Page 93 of Ten Day Affair
TWENTY-ONE
Sam
I pour a glass of wine to carry next door and grab my phone off the counter, sticking it in my back pocket as I head toward the door. This will be a quick visit, five minutes, tops. Say what I came to say, leave with some version of peace.
I’m not sure I even believe that.
My hand’s on the doorknob, but I pull it off when my phone beeps in my pocket.
I sigh, put down my wine, and pull it out. It's Arden. Of course.
I almost don’t answer. I promised I’d call her after the meeting, but I didn’t have it in me. Not then, and I really don't still.
But I owe her. And I know she’s been trying to get me.
I swipe to answer. “Hey.”
“Thank God. I've been sitting on my hands so I wouldn't call you, but I finally couldn't stand it anymore. Are you okay?”
I close the door and lean against it. “Define okay.”
“That bad?”
I press a thumb to the space between my eyebrows. “It was rough.”
“Give me the short version. Based on your tone, I'm guessing the concierge vote won?”
“That about sums it up.”
“Like, anything redeeming?”
“In a surprise, last-minute twist, Cole brought up the Evelyn Taylor Wing and asked the board to think about what losing it would mean for the community.”
Arden exhales. “Wait, he defended the wing?”
“Sort of. He brought up the underinsured patients and the outreach stuff and reminded everyone that no one else in the area takes them. I don't understand all of it, but I think he proposed a last-minute change and no one got behind him.”
“Did he have a plan, or was it just lip service?”
“He pitched a hybrid model. Concierge for those who can afford it, keep the wing for everyone else.”
Arden’s quiet for a second. “And?”
“And, they voted for full restructuring.”
She lets out a soft curse. “Majority?”
“Yeah.”
She hesitates. “Did he?—?”
I cut her off. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”
There's no need to tell her he voted for the restructure anyway. His hands were tied, and it was a foregone conclusion. As much as I hate the outcome, I don't blame him. I want to, because I want a face to hate, but this isn't on him.
She’s quiet on the other end. Then, she gently probes. “So, does that mean he’s heading back to New York?”
“Yes. He’s supposed to leave Saturday. Maybe sooner now that the vote is over. I haven’t asked.”
