8
Distillery Hospital, 24 February 1871
Chad ran into Perkins as he was leaving. The smug smirk on Perkins’s face made Chad pause. He swallowed his pride—apologizing to the ass would be best for the hospital, and he’d need Perkins’s cooperation once Claire started working with the boys. If being too near Chad made her ill, she’d have to work with Perkins.
“About yesterday,” Chad said and held out a hand, “I’m sorry. I lost my head, and I shouldn’t have.”
Perkins nodded and took Chad’s hand for a limp shake. “Apology accepted.”
“Just to let you know, though, Doctor McPhee is going to be working with us, and I expect everyone, including myself, to maintain a professional air about it.”
Perkins raised his eyebrows, which echoed the curve of his glasses. “I’d heard a neuroticist was comi
