Kitabı oku: «The Wilders», sayfa 3

Chapter Four

Bethany could feel the vibrations created by Peter’s exit long after he’d left the room. Even after the meeting had abruptly broken up less than fifteen minutes later. Until she’d witnessed Wilder’s reaction she’d figured the takeover to be a slam dunk.

So much for intuition.

She wouldn’t have thought it to look at him, but Wilder was positively archaic. The man was standing in the way of progress, pure and simple. He was obviously so stuck in the past, he refused to open his eyes and see the future, or even acknowledge, much less read the handwriting on the wall.

Bethany’s mouth curved as she walked down the fourth-floor corridor. It looked like it was up to her to make the temporary chief of staff see the error of his ways. She’d made up her mind about that the moment the meeting broke up. All the other board members already had some sort of relationship with Peter and seemed obviously wary of upsetting him, whether because they liked him, or were still treading on eggshells because of his father’s recent death. Just as possibly, their hesitation arose out of respect for the late James Wilder.

Whatever the reason, she didn’t know and she didn’t care. No single person should be allowed to stand in the way of bettering a situation that ultimately affected so many just because clearly he viewed all change as bad and something to be avoided.

She knew people like Peter, had dealt with them before. People so set in their ways they felt there was no true path except the one they were standing on. They were stuck there, like the prehistoric creatures had been in the La Brea tar pits. The only difference was, the animals hadn’t wanted to be stuck—they’d wandered in and had no choice. Wilder had a choice and he’d focused on the wrong one.

Knowing she couldn’t confront the man while he was seeing patients, Bethany positioned herself outside his office a few minutes before noon. She assumed that, like every other physician she had ever known, he would break for lunch around that time. So she waited.

At one o’clock, she was still waiting.

Mystified, Bethany moved to the door and tried the knob, intending to check whether Wilder was still actually in his office or had somehow managed to leave by a back door without her knowing it. Her hand was on the knob when the door suddenly opened. Jerked forward, she stumbled and found herself bumping up against the doctor full force.

He was quick to grab her by the shoulders so the collision wouldn’t send her falling backward. Caught off guard, she sucked in her breath, stifling a noise that sounded very much like a gasp.

She wasn’t accustomed to being at an awkward, physical disadvantage. She liked being in control. Complete poise had been her credo since college. To her credit, she managed to collect herself almost immediately.

“Oh, Dr. Wilder—”

“That’s what it says on the door,” he acknowledged, unable to see why she should sound so surprised at seeing him walk out of his own office. Ever the doctor, his dark eyes swept over her, checking for any minor signs of damage or bruising. There were none visible. Still, he asked, “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Bethany brushed absently at her dress, smoothing it out. “I’m a lot more resilient than I look.”

“Good.” With a satisfied nod of his head, Peter began to walk toward the elevator.

Bethany had expected him to stand still so she could talk to him. Instead, she had to fall into step to gain his ear. Moreover, she found she had to fairly trot in order to keep up with the man. If she didn’t know better, she’d speculate that he was trying to avoid her.

“I was hoping to run into you—”

He glanced at her with mild, amused interest. “And you decided to do that literally?”

She frowned. Was he teasing her, or did it go deeper than that? Her childhood was steeped in ridicule and the wounds from that had never quite healed. “That wasn’t the plan.”

Stopping by the elevator, Peter pressed the down button on the wall. A faint glimmer of a light went on, circling the button.

“What was the plan?” he asked, feeling that he was probably setting himself up. Braced, he sank his hands into the deep pockets of his lab coat and waited for her to answer.

Bethany psyched herself up for exactly half a second before saying, “I wanted to talk to you about NHC’s offer.”

He looked at her for a long moment. The woman didn’t appear to be someone who had adult attention deficit disorder. But then, you just never knew, did you? From what he’d gathered, she was an over-achiever. That could be a sign.

“I believe you already did,” he reminded her.

“But you walked out,” she countered. Walked out before she could even get warmed up, she added silently.

“Not very polite,” Peter granted amicably. “But in all honesty, there was no point in wasting your time or mine. I’d heard enough.”

“You hardly heard anything at all.”

There they had a difference of opinion. “I heard the words ‘Northeastern Healthcare’ and ‘takeover.’ In my book, that’s really enough.”

The man really was closed-minded, Bethany thought, annoyed. Which meant that she had her job cut out for her. But she was up to it. She liked Walnut River, liked working at the hospital. And she wasn’t going to allow this man to stand in the way of the takeover.

Bethany did her best not to let her emotions surface as she argued. “You could at least listen to what they have to offer, Dr. Wilder.”

“I’m not some hermit living in a cave, Ms. Holloway. I know exactly what NHC has to offer.” He enumerated. “A lot of gleaming, brandspanking new equipment they ultimately resist letting us use because of the prohibitive cost of operating the same gleaming, brandspanking new equipment.” The look he gave her felt as if it was going right through her, straight to the bone. “I’m not some child who can be bribed by the promise of an expensive toy.”

The elevator arrived, empty. Peter stepped in. Bethany was close behind him. As the steel doors closed, she suppressed a sigh. Losing her temper was not the way to go.

“I don’t think of you as a child, Dr. Wilder.”

His mouth curved and she felt something within her responding to the expression. The man did have charisma, she couldn’t help thinking. “I’m sure the medical board will be happy to hear that.”

This wasn’t funny and she didn’t like being the source of his amusement. “But I do think of you as a throwback.”

The smile remained as he arched an eyebrow. “Speaking your mind again?”

Bethany squared her shoulders. Her chin went up. “Yes.”

Peter faced forward and shook his head. “It’s not charming.”

“I’m not trying to be charming.”

“Good.” He continued looking at the steel door before him. “Because you’re not succeeding.”

Knowing the value of temporary retreat, Bethany backpedaled. A little. “Maybe throwback wasn’t the right word.”

He nodded, watching the floors go by. “Maybe.”

She stopped backpedaling. “But you have to admit, you’re stuck in the past.”

That got to him. He turned his head to look at her. “No, I am in the present.” He felt his temper flare, something that very rarely happened. What was it about this woman that got his jets flaming? “And I won’t give up this hospital without a fight.”

It was her turn to appear amused. “That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“Whatever it takes, Ms. Holloway.” Peter faced forward again, mentally counting to ten. “Whatever it takes.”

The elevator arrived in the basement and he got off. All he wanted to do was to get a bite to eat before he went back to seeing his patients. Bethany was interfering with the smattering of peace and quiet he was hoping for. He knew he should have brought his lunch with him and remained in his office. But there hadn’t been anything in his refrigerator to bring. He needed to get around to shopping, and soon.

He spared her a glance as he walked into the cafeteria. “Are you planning to follow me around all afternoon, Ms. Holloway?”

Bethany responded with a wide smile, paraphrasing his earlier words, “Whatever it takes, Dr. Wilder. Whatever it takes.”

He inclined his head. “Touché.”

She grabbed at what she felt was a temporary truce. “Won’t you at least listen to me?” she pressed, following Peter into the main area where all the food was served. There were steam tables on two sides of the opposite wall and a bed of ice for cold beverages and desserts on the third. Just before the exit were the coffee dispensers.

Peter picked up a tray and handed it to her. She looked a little uncertain as she accepted it.

“I’m assuming you want to keep up the ruse that you actually want to be here,” Peter said, moving to the left wall. “That means buying some food.”

“Right,” she murmured. Bethany looked around the cafeteria. This was actually her first time down here. She usually left the grounds at lunchtime, preferring to get her meals at one of several nearby restaurants. “Then will you listen to me?”

“I’ve been listening to you since you pounced on me outside my office,” he told her innocently.

His comment earned him an interested look from the young nurse who walked by, her tray laden with what passed for a nutritious lunch. The woman’s hazel eyes went from him to Bethany and then back again before a very wide smile sprouted on her lips.

Terrific. “I think you and I just became the latest rumor that’s about to make the hospital’s rounds,” Bethany noted glibly.

He nodded his head, as if that was fine with him. “They have little else to talk about this week,” he said drily. Nodding at the small row of dispensers, he asked, “Coffee?”

Her attention was already drawn to another dispenser beyond the quaint coffeemaker that contained the simple fare. “I’ll take a latte.”

“Of course you will.” He supposed he would have been disappointed if she hadn’t. It would have meant that he was off target about her. And he knew in his gut that he wasn’t. “I should have known that.”

She proceeded to fill her cup. “Lattes are something else you don’t approve of?” she asked.

He heard the high-handed note in her voice but went on as if he was talking to a friend. “What I don’t approve of is pretentiousness, or change for the sake of change and not because it’s a good thing.”

Bethany grabbed her tray and quickly followed him. He stopped by a display of already wrapped sandwiches and grabbed one without even noting what it was.

“If you’re talking about the takeover, it would be a good thing,” she insisted emphatically.

Peter made a low, disparaging noise to show his contempt for the thought, not the woman.

“I’ve been to other HMOs, Ms. Holloway. I know the kind of medicine that’s practiced there. I categorically refuse to see that happen here. At Walnut River General, we treat the whole patient. Not his arm, not his leg, not his liver, but the entire patient, no matter what his or her complaint might be.”

That sounded good in theory, but it was a completely other thing in practice. “Don’t you think that’s rather time-consuming?” Not to mention costly, she added silently.

He knew she’d see it that way. This would be exactly the same argument he would be having over and over again with the administrators if they joined NHC. “Perhaps, but if you don’t treat the entire patient, you might miss something very relevant and specific to his or her case.”

“And how many times does that actually happen? Finding something that doesn’t apply to anyone else with the patient’s condition?” she challenged.

That would be the efficiency expert in her coming out, Peter thought. “More times than you would think.” He paused to look directly at her. “Once is enough if it’s you,” he told her, his voice low as he placed a very personal point on the matter.

Okay, he was right, Bethany allowed as she followed him to the checkout area, but she was still willing to bet those kind of patients only surfaced once in a blue moon. The rest of the time it was business as usual.

“But in the long run—” she persisted.

Nodding a silent greeting at the cashier, Peter took out his wallet and indicated to the man that he was paying for both his and her selections. He handed the man a twenty.

“In the long run, we will keep on doing as much good as we have been,” Peter told her firmly.

She saw the exchange of nods and money. Bethany was quick to take out her wallet from her purse. “I can pay for my own food.”

Peter picked up his tray and walked away. “Never doubted it for a moment, Ms. Holloway.”

“Thank you,” she replied primly, grabbing her own tray and quickly following him into the dining hall. “Do you realize that you just said my name as if it was some sort of evil incantation.”

He didn’t bother turning around to look at her. “Maybe that’s your guilty conscience making you think that.”

“I don’t have a guilty conscience,” she said with more than a note of indignation managing to break through.

“I would. If I voted for the takeover.” Finding a small table in the back, he made his way toward it and then placed the tray in front of him on the table before sitting down. “Fortunately, that isn’t going to happen.”

She stood at his elbow for a moment, frustrated. “And your mind is made up?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head, her voice fraught with disappointment. “You know, I never thought you would be the closed-minded type.”

“Life is full of surprises.” He watched her place her tray opposite his on the table and then slide in.

“Why have you singled me out?” he wanted to know. “I’m just the newest member of the board.” And as such, he thought of himself as having the least amount of influence.

But that wasn’t the way she saw it. “Because you do hold a lot of sway. You’re Peter Wilder, resident saint. Moreover, you’re James Wilder’s son, an even bigger saint in his day. People look up to you, and they respect you. If you feel strongly about something, people think there has to be a reason.” She tried not to notice that his smile made her stomach tighten again.

“There is.”

“And,” she continued, valiantly pretending that he hadn’t spoken, “they’ll vote the way you vote.”

His smile was a thoughtful one. “But not you.”

She slowly moved her head from side to side, her eyes never leaving his. “I don’t vote with my heart, I vote with my head.”

“Pity.” He could see that she was about to take exception to his response so he elaborated. “You know, most of the time the heart is a far better judge than the head.” He took a sip of his coffee, then set down the container and leaned forward. “I’m curious. Why are you so set on this takeover happening, Ms. Holloway? What do you get out of all this?”

She didn’t even have to think, didn’t hesitate with her answer. “Progress.”

Peter shook his head. “I don’t see it that way.” He glanced at his watch. He could better spend what little time he had left before he opened his office again. Placing his sandwich in a napkin, he wrapped it up. He rose to his feet, sandwich in one hand, the remainder of his coffee in the other. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be.”

Her eyes narrowed. He was lying, she was sure of it. Why come all the way here, then sit down just to leave? “Where?” she challenged.

“Appointments,” he told her with a smile. And then, turning on his heel, he walked away.

Stunned, Bethany glanced around to see if anyone near her had overheard the exchange between them and, if they had, were they now looking at her with a measure of pity?

Even though she didn’t see anyone looking in her direction, Bethany squared her shoulders and raised her chin defiantly.

She’d spent most of her life, both as an adult and as an adolescent, striving to be the highest achiever, the one who consistently was successful in grabbing the brass ring. Once acquired, she always went on to the next prize because, she had discovered, the getting was far more exhilarating than the having. Victory was exciting for only a few minutes—after that, it was hollow.

She felt that way about everything. It didn’t stop her from hoping to someday be proved wrong.

But it hadn’t happened yet.

Lifting the latte to her lips, she took a small sip, still watching Peter’s broad shoulders as he made his way toward the exit, and ignoring the odd little flutter in the pit of her stomach as she did so.

He didn’t know it yet, she told herself, but she was going to wear him down and win him over. He was the ultimate challenge and she had no intention of it going unanswered. A takeover really was in the hospital’s best interest. It would put the hospital in line for advancements and most definitely for several lucrative study grants.

Right now, Walnut River General was just a quaint hospital, the only one in Walnut River, and while it had been nurtured to its present state by James Wilder and now had Peter Wilder overseeing it, what happened when the day came that there were no Wilders to render their services, to be the kindly country doctors that the hospital’s reputation thrived on? Then what?

It took very little imagination on her part to envision conditions degenerating within the hospital to the point where it wouldn’t be able to attract any physicians of high standing to join their staff. In the blink of an eye, Walnut River General could easily turn into a mediocre hospital staffed with mediocre physicians.

If NHC oversaw its management, that sort of thing wouldn’t happen.

Besides, Bethany thought as she finished the last of her latte, these days no one fought city hall and won. That kind of thing just didn’t happen anymore. If, indeed, it ever had.

She placed the empty container on her tray and carried both to the nearest conveyor belt. Stepping away, she dusted off her hands. Ready for round two.

It was damn time for Dr. Peter Wilder to realize that he had to stop standing in the way of progress before he and his precious hospital were left behind in the dust. The sooner she got him to acknowledge that, the sooner they could all move on.

Chapter Five

The reading of the will that evening at his house held no surprises. Fred arrived at seven, with Ella there a few minutes earlier, and it went as Peter had expected. All of his father’s worldly possessions, the house, the small bank account, were to be divided equally among the children. James Wilder had no living siblings, no distant people he felt honor-bound to reach out to beyond the grave. A few mementos went to friends, worth more in sentimental value than they were monetarily, but most items were part of the very small estate that was to be divvied up equally.

His father had left the execution of it entirely in Peter’s hands.

“Short and sweet,” Fred declared. Finished, he placed the will on the mahogany desk and rose to his feet. He snapped the locks back down on his black leather briefcase. “Still, it’s a shame that David and Anna couldn’t have stayed one more day to hear the reading of the will for themselves.”

Peter knew that Ella felt the same way the lawyer did: that David and Anna should have remained out of respect for their father. In her own way, Ella was very protective of her father and his memory. But he knew that no disrespect had been intended by his siblings. Both excuses they’d given were thin, veiling the different demons David and, to an extent, Anna, had to wrestle with. Nothing anyone in the room could say would change that.

So he played down their absence and responded to Fred’s comment with a half shrug.

“They each thought that there wouldn’t be anything unusual about it,” he said. “And pressing circumstances called them away.”

Fred’s expression said he would have expected more from the children of his close friend. He nodded toward Ella as he circumvented Peter’s desk. “Lovely seeing you again, Ella. I hope the next time we meet, it will be under happier circumstances.”

“Yes,” she murmured softly with feeling, “so do I.”

Peter saw fresh tears glistening in her eyes. It was going to take her a while to get over this, he thought. In the meantime, he could give her her privacy.

Placing himself between Fred and his sister, he volunteered, “I’ll walk you out.”

“Speaking of unusual …” Fred picked up the thread of their earlier exchange as they left the room. “Have you, um, you know—”

Peter shook his head. “No, I haven’t ‘um, you know’ yet.”

Fred eyed him as they walked slowly to the front of the house. “Afraid it might be something bad?”

Afraid. Maybe that was the right word after all, he thought. Something about the presence of the envelope made him uneasy. He didn’t want anything changing his image of his father and he was afraid that whatever was in the envelope might do just that.

“Well, it can’t be something good, now, can it? If it was, there wouldn’t be this aura of mystery surrounding it. My father wasn’t the to-be-read-after-my-death kind of person. Or at least,” he sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked, “I wouldn’t have said he was.” Until now.

Fred looked at him, a sympathetic expression on his round face. “Only one way to find out.”

Peter glanced toward the living room as he passed it on his way to the front door. The thick envelope was still resting on the mantelpiece, where he’d placed it after the reception. And where it was going to stay until he was ready to deal with it.

“Yes, I know. I’ll get to it,” he promised. He stopped at the door. The overhead fixture hanging down from the vaulted ceiling was on high, casting more light through the area than it ordinarily did. The added brightness only marginally negated the somber atmosphere and mood.

Fred’s eyes met his and the man said, “Be sure to let me know when you do.”

Peter didn’t feel comfortable with that. “Whatever it is, it’s my father’s secret.”

Fred laughed softly to himself. “And I was your father’s lawyer—and his friend. He had no secrets from me,” Fred told him significantly.

Peter looked at him sharply. “Then you know what’s in the envelope?”

It was obvious that Fred was not about to say yes—or no. “I have my suspicions,” he admitted.

If that was true, what was all this cloak-and-dagger stuff about? And if Fred knew, what, exactly, did he want to be informed about after the envelope was finally opened and its contents read?

“Then why—”

“Lawyer-client confidentiality,” Fred was quick to cite the standard, one-size-fits-all defense. Fred patted Peter’s arm. “Keep an open mind,” he advised. “Remember, you’re the son James trusted.”

Peter thought of the envelope that contained a secret his father had all but taken to his grave. The secret that James Wilder hadn’t shared with him in life. “Apparently not.”

The look in Fred’s brown eyes told him that he could all but read his thoughts.

“Think of it as not burdening you until he absolutely had to.” Fred glanced at his watch and looked surprised at the hour. “Well, I need to go. Selma is holding dinner for me.” He laughed, patting his ample stomach. “Sometimes, I wish she was a worse cook than she is. Then I wouldn’t have this—” he searched for a descriptive word that wasn’t entirely unflattering “—robust physique. ‘Bye, Ella,” he called out, raising his voice. “And let me know once you break the seal,” Fred said again, lowering his voice so that it wouldn’t carry.

Fred let himself out and closed the door behind him. The next moment, Ella was entering the foyer.

“What was all that about?” she asked.

Turning around, Peter saw that she had managed to pull herself together. Ella was good at rallying. He had to stop thinking of her as his baby sister. She was a grown woman and a doctor to boot. That meant she could handle her own battles.

Still, something had him saying evasively, “Just lawyer talk.”

“I thought Fred was finished with all that in your study.”

“You know lawyers, they never stop.” He could see that Ella wanted details, so he embellished a little, elaborating on what had actually been on his mind earlier. “He wanted me to draw up a will, now that I’m head of the family.”

Ella drew in a breath, as if that could protect her from what she was thinking. She shook her head vehemently. “You’re not going anywhere for a very long time, big brother.” Peter was eleven years older than she was, which made him half brother, half father as far as she was concerned. And she intended to hang on to both halves. “I absolutely forbid it.”

Peter laughed, amused. “I’ll let Fred know.”

Ella tucked her arm through his. “You do that,” she agreed. “Meanwhile, let’s go out to dinner. My treat.”

He glanced at his watch. It was getting late. “Aren’t you on call?”

She’d drawn the graveyard shift. “Not for another few hours.”

He smiled fondly at Ella. He’d decided to open the envelope after she went home. But there was no hurry. The envelope wasn’t going anywhere. “Then you’re on. And I warn you, I have expensive taste.”

“Sky’s the limit,” she declared with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “As long as the sky’s hovering somewhere in the ten dollar neighborhood,” she added, her eyes twinkling.

He laughed. “I’ll get the coats, Rockefeller.”

“NHC is sending a man to negotiate with us at the end of the month,” Bethany announced without preamble as she walked into the small, cluttered office within an office where Peter retreated when he wasn’t either making hospital rounds or seeing patients in either the exam room or the E.R.

It was barely eight o’clock in the morning. His patients didn’t start coming in until nine-thirty and he had yet to make his rounds of the three that he currently had staying at the hospital.

Looking up from the medical journal he was reading, Peter frowned ever so slightly. He was going to have to remember to lock his doors until his hours began officially. Not even Eva, his nurse/receptionist was here yet.

He looked at the redhead for a long moment. “Don’t you have someplace else to be?”

Determined to break through his resistance, Bethany gave him a very complacent smile. “Not anyplace more important.”

So much for catching up on his reading before making his rounds, Peter thought. Putting a bookmark into the medical magazine, he let the pages flip closed and rose to his feet. “Well, you might not have anywhere else you need to be, but I do.”

She shifted to block his way. Other people at the hospital might think of Peter Wilder as a kind, gentle man, but at the moment, she thought of him as a stubborn jackass. A sexy jackass, but a jackass none the less. “That’s what you said yesterday in the cafeteria.”

He looked undaunted. “And it’s still true. I’m not a hundred percent certain what it is that some of the other members of the board of directors do with their time, but mine is better spent doing what I was meant to do—doctoring.”

It wasn’t exactly true. He knew that four of the members were doctors, just like he was. Senior members of the staff, they had full agendas to follow even when they weren’t seated around the table, reviewing tedious budgets and constricting overall policy. He knew she was an efficiency expert, whatever that actually meant.

“I have hospital rounds to make,” he told her, heading for the same door that she had breached a minute ago. “So, unless you want to spend the greater part of the next hour standing in the hospital corridor, waiting for me to finish seeing my patients, I suggest you get back to whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing.”

And with that, Peter made his second escape from the woman in as many days.

“What do you know about Bethany Holloway?”

Finished with his rounds, his office hours still more than half an hour away, Peter decided to swing by the chief administrator’s office to get a little information that might ultimately help him outsmart the attractive board member.

Henry Weisfield looked up from a travel brochure he’d been wistfully perusing and pushed his bifocals up his long, straight nose to look at the doctor he still thought of as “James Wilder’s boy.”

He smiled, letting his mind wander for a second. “That if I were thirty years younger, I’d be actively pursuing her. Why?” Henry slid his thin frame forward on his chair, his gray eyes momentarily bright with questions. “Are you interested?”

You would think that by the time a man hit forty, people would stop trying to pair him up with someone. Peter had been badly disappointed with that route once, and had more important things to do than spend time risking a part of his being that modern medicine had not come up with a way to heal.

“Only in so far as wanting to know where she comes from and why she’s here,” he answered after a beat.

Leaning back again, Henry told him what he knew. “The woman has not one but two business degrees. Graduated with top honors from Princeton and is a real go-getter. Wallace is very taken with her,” he added.

Peter thought of the way the chairman had fawned over Bethany yesterday. “I’m sure that’s a hit with Wallace’s wife.”

“Your father thought she had potential, too,” Henry remembered.

Not if he’d known that the woman would back a takeover by one of the larger HMO companies, Peter thought. “If she’s so brilliant, why isn’t she sitting on the board of some big-name organization? Why has she graced us with her presence here?”

“Good question.” Henry nodded more to himself than to him. “My best guess is that it has something to do with not wanting to be a little fish in a big pond.”

That made sense, he supposed. Peter wandered over to the window and looked down the four stories to the back parking lot. It was beginning to fill up. Employees were reporting for the morning shift; visitors were beginning to make their pilgrimages to see friends and loved ones in hospital rooms and outpatients were coming in for tests they most likely didn’t want to take.