Page 17 of Maxwell

She hung up, closed her eyes, and let her head fall back as she took a deep breath. This workshop was her bright idea, which she had pitched to her father as a way to give back to the community and build awareness of their practice. She had envisioned rotating doctors.

Dr. Park would concentrate on nutrition and exercise. Later this year, her father’s workshop was geared toward parents, taking place in the early evening. They were still working on the curriculum, but he planned to counsel the adults on chronic conditions like diabetes and asthma in their children. With Maxwell here, she could add a third workshop once she found out what he was interested in.

Of course, there might not be any more workshops if this one flopped. Right now they looked disorganized, which could hurt their reputation, and it would be all her fault because she didn’t have a backup plan. She, a perfectionist, hadn’t considered that the main speaker could be MIA.

“Jasmine?”

Her eyes flew open. Maxwell was standing before her in his white coat, an expression of concern on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead. “Well... Dr. Park is supposed to be speaking during our New Year, Healthy Youth program, and she’s either running late or dead. I don’t know which since I can’t reach her. And of course one of the parents is already upset, and he seems like the kind of person who would go back in the room and rile up the other parents. It’s fine, though. I’ve got everything under control.”

Maxwell looked skeptical. “What exactly is your plan?”

She couldn’t tell if he was being condescending or not, so she answered truthfully. “I’m going to improvise. We have charts in the supply closet about eating right and exercise. I could possibly rustle up a few more ideas by going through the materials in Dr. Park’s office. I’m pretty sure I could do the presentation myself. I thought about asking Renee, but it wouldn’t be fair to ask her last minute, and she doesn’t like public speaking anyway.”

The other medical assistant had taken the afternoon off. Jasmine couldn’t even ask her father to fill in because he was at a conference.

“In the meantime, while you’re looking for materials for the presentation, the clock is ticking and our guests are becoming more restless and agitated,” Maxwell said pointedly.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“I could give the workshop.” Maxwell spoke in a matter-of-fact voice.

“No, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” He hadn’t been at the practice long enough. He was too green.

“You’re not asking. I’m offering, and I want to. Either you let me do it, or you get in front of an upset group that has been waiting for more than fifteen minutes at this point.”

She should say no, but she’d built this whole event herself. It was her idea, her budget line item. The noise from the community room was getting louder, and since Dr. Park hadn’t called back yet, she was practically out of options. Soon, people would start leaving.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Positive. I’m not taking patients yet, so I have time. Put me in, Coach,” Maxwell joked.

Jasmine wanted to appreciate his sense of humor but was too nervous. “What are you going to talk about?”

“I saw the flyers and know the gist. If you could rustle up those materials you mentioned, I’ll figure out how to incorporate them into the presentation.”

Jasmine remained worried but was breathing easier. “Deal.”

As Maxwell headed toward the community room, she hustled toward the other side of the building. Handouts for the parents were already on a table in the room, so she used her keys to open Dr. Park’s office and looked through her laminated visual aids, pulling out items she thought Maxwell could use. In the supply closet, she dropped the items on a small cart and added a tabletop anatomical model with removable organs that could work for the nutrition talk. With a quick search of the shelves, she found a stethoscope, a reflex hammer, and other items that she also added to the cart.

Wiping nervous sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, she pushed the cart down the hall. On the way, she saw Renee, who stopped her.

“Where’s Dr. Park?” the medical assistant asked in a worried whisper.

“I don’t know. Dr. Santana’s taking over the workshop.”

Jasmine continued to the community room. Most everyone was seated in the chairs arranged theater style, with a few adults standing at the back munching on the snacks she had provided.

“The good stuff has arrived,” Maxwell said, looking pleased to see her. “Everyone give Ms. Roberson a round of applause.”

As the room clapped, slightly embarrassed, Jasmine curtsied.

Maxwell took over the cart, casting a quick glance at everything she had brought.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she whispered so no one else could hear.