Page 105 of Ten Day Affair
"Sorry. Traffic was worse than expected."
Harrison waves me off. "We’ve got the interim management team in place. The rollout of the concierge model starts this quarter. We were just going over the initial plan.”
I take my seat at the head of the table and pour water from the crystal pitcher. The ice cubes clink against the glass.
Blankenship leans forward, adjusting his wire-rimmedglasses. "Full conversion to the concierge model should be complete within three months. We're looking at an exit in six months maximum."
"Buyers?"
Rodriguez grins. "Already circling. Two major hospital chains have expressed interest. Meridian is our top candidate. They like what they see—prime real estate, established patient base, minimal debt after the restructuring. Unless something unforeseen comes up, we're closing with them."
Sam's face flashes through my mind. The way she looked when she saw me vote in favor of the restructuring guts me all over again.
"There's something we should consider."
The room goes quiet. Harrison raises an eyebrow.
"I think we should preserve some kind of legacy program. Bundle it as an incentive for buyers."
Mitchell laughs. "What are we doing, charity now?"
I keep my voice steady, professional. "It's about optics. Larger hospital systems care about community reputation. Having a subsidized care component shows goodwill. That way, whoever buys Good Samaritan they aren't putting all of their eggs in one basket. You've got the wealthy, cash-paying demo, and the public hospital component."
"Clean and quick is how we make money. Adding complications just creates liability and drags this out," Blankenship says, shaking his head.
"It wouldn't be complicated. Just maintain one floor?—"
"Cole." Harrison's voice cuts through mine. "We didn't get into this business to run soup kitchens. Good Samaritan will be a premium facility. That's the plan. That's what will make us 2.5%. That's what Meridian wants."
The others nod in agreement. Rodriguez pulls out hisphone, already moving on to the next deal. Blankenship closes his laptop while Mitchell straightens his tie.
"Anything else?" Harrison asks.
I shake my head. "Nothing else."
They file out one by one, their voices fading down the hallway as they discuss lunch plans and weekend trips. I stay behind, walking to the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over Manhattan.
The city stretches endlessly in every direction. Concrete and ambition as far as the eye can see.
What a fucking life.
I walk back to my office, each step heavier than the last. The familiar weight of my door closing behind me should feel like relief. Instead, it feels like another cage.
Angela’s voice comes through the intercom. “Mr. Houston? Elliott Bancroft from Coastal Baptist is holding on line two.”
I settle behind my desk and pick up the phone. Elliott’s voice is warm and professional, but there’s a finality under it I clock right away.
“Just calling to check how the vote went,” he says.
“They went with the full concierge model,” I say. “Unanimous.”
A beat of silence.
“Well,” Elliott says, “thanks for keeping me in the loop. I appreciate the courtesy. But as you know, Coastal Baptist doesn’t partner with concierge-based hospitals. That’s not the direction we’re headed.”
“I understand.”
“Best of luck to you, Cole.”
