The food arrived and no one spoke until the waitress had departed.
"We thought a vacation in the Bahamas could function as a grand prize," Beaton explained. "It could be awarded to the doctor with the lowest hospitalization percentage for the year."
"That's perfect," Traynor said. "This whole idea is sounding better and better."
"We'd better get it up and running ASAP," Beaton said. "So far the May figures are worse than those for April. Admissions are higher and the money loss correspondingly greater."
"I have some good news," Sherwood said. "The hospital sinking fund is back to its projected level with the infusion of the cash from the insurance bequest. It was done in a way that none of the bond examiners will ever detect."
"It's just one crisis after another," Traynor complained. He wasn't about to give Sherwood credit for fixing a problem he'd created.
"Do you want me to go ahead with the bond issue for the parking garage?" Sherwood asked.
"No," Traynor answered. "Unfortunately, we can't. We have to go back to the Board of Selectmen for another vote. Their approval had been contingent on starting the project immediately." With a scornful expression Traynor gestured with his head toward a neighboring table. "The Selectmen's chairman, Jeb Wiggins, thinks the tourist season might get screwed up if we build during the summer."
"How unfortunate," Sherwood said.
"I've got a bit of good news myself," Traynor added. "I just heard this morning that our CON for open-heart surgery has been turned down for this year. Isn't that terrible?"
"Oh, what a tragedy," Beaton said with a laugh. "Thank God!"
After the coffee had been served, Traynor remembered the call from Tom Baringer. He relayed the information on to Beaton.
"I'm already aware of Mr. Baringer's admission," Beaton said. "Some time ago I programmed a tickler file into the computer to alert me when such a patient is hospitalized. I've already spoken to Caldwell and he'll be taking care to be sure Mr. Baringer gets proper VIP treatment. What's the value of the fund?"
"One million," Traynor said. "It's not huge, but nothing to scoff at."
After they had finished their lunch, they walked out into the bright late spring sunshine.
"What's the status on the lighting of the parking lots?" Traynor asked.
"It's all done," Beaton said. "It's been done for over a week. But we decided to restrict the lighting to the lower lot. The upper is used only during the day, and by doing only the lower, we saved a considerable amount of money."
"Sounds reasonable," Traynor said.
Close to the Green Mountain National Bank they ran into Wayne Robertson. His wide-brimmed, trooper style hat was low on his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun. As added protection he was wearing highly reflective sunglasses.
"Afternoon," Traynor said amicably.
Robertson touched the brim of his hat in a form of salute.
"Any startling developments in the Hodges case?" Traynor asked.
"Hardly," Robertson said. "In fact, we're thinking about dropping it."
"I wouldn't be too premature," Traynor warned. "Remember, that old geezer had a penchant for appearing when least expected."
"And unwanted," Beaton added.
"Dr. Cantor thinks he's in Florida," Robertson said. "I'm starting to believe it myself. I think that little scandal about the hospital taking care of his house embarrassed him enough to leave town."
"I would have thought he'd have thicker skin than that," Traynor said. "But who am I to guess."
After exchanging farewells and good wishes for the weekend, the four returned to their respective jobs.
As Beaton drove up the hill toward the hospital, she thought about Traynor and her relationship with him. She wasn't happy; she wanted more. Trysts once or twice a month were hardly what she'd expected.
Beaton had met Traynor several years previously when he'd come to Boston to take a refresher course in tax law. She'd been working in the city as an assistant administrator in one of the Harvard hospitals. The attraction was instantaneous and mutual. They spent a torrid week together, then rendezvoused intermittently until he'd recruited her to come to Bartlet to run the hospital. She'd been led to believe that they would eventually live together, but so far it hadn't happened. Traynor had not gotten the divorce he'd promised was imminent. Beaton felt she had to do something to rectify the situation; she just didn't know what.
Back at the hospital, Beaton went directly to room 204, where she expected to find Tom Baringer. She intended to make sure he was comfortable. He wasn't there. Instead Beaton was surprised to discover another patient: a woman by the name of Alice Nottingham. Beaton set her jaw, descended to the first floor, and marched into Caldwell's office.
"Where's Baringer?" she asked curtly.
"Room 204," Caldwell said.
"Unless Mr. Baringer has had a sex change operation and is going by the name of Alice, he's not in 204."
Caldwell quickly got to his feet. "Something's gone wrong." He pushed past Beaton and hurried across the hall to admissions. There he sought out Janice Sperling and asked her what had happened to Tom Baringer.
"I put him in 209," Janice said.
"I told you to put him in 204," Caldwell said.
"I know," Janice admitted. "But since we talked, 209 came available. It's a larger room. You said Mr. Baringer was a special patient. I thought he'd like 209 better."
"204 has a better view, plus it has the new orthopedic bed," Caldwell said. "The man has a broken hip. Either change rooms or change beds."
"Okay," Janice said, rolling her eyes. Some people could never be pleased.
Caldwell went to Beaton's office and stuck his head through the door. "I'm sorry for not having followed up on that situation," he said. "But it will be rectified within the hour. I promise."
Beaton nodded and went back to her work.
5
David had set the alarm for five forty-five as if it were a normal workday. By six-fifteen he was on his way to the hospital. The temperature had already climbed into the low seventies and the skies were clear. Before nine he was finished with his rounds and on his way home.
"Okay, you guys," he called as he entered the apartment. "I don't want to spend this whole day waiting. Let's get this show on the road."
Nikki appeared in her doorway. "That's not fair, Daddy. We've been waiting for you."
"Just kidding," David said with a laugh as he gave Nikki a playful tickle.
Soon they were off. Before long, urban sprawl gave way to tree-dotted suburbia followed by long stretches of forest. The farther north they went, the prettier the surroundings became, especially now that leaves were on the trees.
When they reached Bartlet, David slowed to a crawl. Like eager tourists they drank in the sights.
"This is even more picturesque than I remembered," Angela said.
"There's that same puppy!" Nikki cried. She pointed across the street. "Can we stop?"
David pulled into an empty diagonal parking slot. "You're right," he said. "I recognize the lady."
"I recognize the dog," Nikki said. She opened the car door and got out.
"Just a second," Angela called. She jumped out of the car and took Nikki's hand to cross the street. David followed.
"Hello again," the woman said when Nikki approached. The puppy caught sight of Nikki and strained at its leash. As Nikki bent down, the dog licked her face. Nikki laughed with surprise.
"I don't know if you'd be interested, but Mr. Staley's retriever just had puppies a few weeks ago," the woman said. "They're right over in the hardware store across the street."
"Can we go see them?" Nikki pleaded.