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.
