Page 85 of Nine Months to Love
This should bemymoment.Myachievement. It’s not, though.
I feel more like a prized buck being taxidermied and mounted on the wall.
God, I can’t help wishing Stefan were here. He would know how to handle this. With one word, he’d clamp down the donations talk. He’d shut my mother up with a single one of those scathing, brooding looks. He’d redirect the conversation to my qualifications, my vision, my worth beyond his bank account, and he’d look so good doing it.
No one would dare defy him.
But more than that, he’d make me feelworthy. He believes in me in a way my mother never has.
To Margaret, I’m an extension of herself, a reflection of her success or, God forbid, her failure.
To Stefan, I’m... I’m just Olivia. Flawed and stubborn and sometimes too idealistic, but precious for exactly those reasons.
I wish so badly he was here.
The meeting finally, mercifully ends with handshakes and congratulations. As people filter out, I spot Dr. Heller near the coffee station.
This is my chance.
“Dr. Heller!” I call out, walking over. “Do you have a minute?”
“Dr. Aster. Of course.” She smiles warmly. “Congratulations on the partnership, by the way. Very well deserved. We were all excited to award it to you. And let me also just say, I want you to think of me as your number one resource for the entirety of our—hopefully very long—time working together. Anything you need, I’m all yours.”
“Thank you. Actually, I’m glad you said that, because I did want to ask you about something. Do you remember a woman named Genevieve who asked you for a fertility referral?”
Heller’s eyebrows rise. “Ms. Genevieve? Yes, she’s been very generous. Rather mysterious, though. Very private.”
“She contacted me about my clinic. Said you had recommended us?”
Dr. Heller frowns. “I don’t think so. Actually...” She looks embarrassed. “When she asked about fertility clinics, I recommended Dr. Walsh’s practice. At the time, I believed they had more resources, established protocols. No offense. I’ve since seen the error of my ways, of course.”
“None taken.” My pulse quickens. “Do you remember when this was?”
“Oh, months ago. Maybe three or four? She called me directly, which was surprising. Most donors go through the foundation.”
“Called you? Do you have her number?”
“I’m afraid not.” She shakes her head. “She always blocks her caller ID. And she’s never given me a way to reach her. She just calls when she wants to talk.”
“I see.” I try to keep the disappointment off my face. “I’m only asking because we had a meeting, but it ended abruptly. I was hoping to follow up with her.”
“I understand.” Heller pulls out her phone. “Tell you what, I’ll make a note. If she contacts me again, I’ll let her know you’d like to speak with her.”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
“Of course.” She pockets her phone and meets my eyes. But then her forehead furrows. “Though I should mention, she’s quite particular about her privacy. She may not appreciate me passing along messages.”
“I understand. But if you could try...”
“I will.” She glances at her watch and clicks her tongue. “So sorry to be rude, but I should run. Surgery in an hour. Congratulations again, Dr. Aster. The hospital is lucky to have you.”
She strides away, leaving me standing by the coffee station. Another dead end. Natalia—Genevieve—has covered her tracks well. No phone number, no address. I’m stuck with no way to reach her except to wait and hope she reaches out first.
“There you are!” Camille appears at my elbow. “Your mother’s looking for you.”
“Of course she is.”
“She wants to take you to lunch. To celebrate.”
