he leveled with the man. “I didn’t want to lose my temper.”
“Lose your temper?” Henry echoed with a short laugh of disbelief. “I would have paid good money to see that. I didn’t know you even had a temper. Most of the staff thinks of you as patience personified.”
Peter felt himself chafing a little. Yesterday, Bethany had referred to him as a saint. Henry was telling him that the people at the hospital thought of him as the soul of patience. Deep down, he knew he was neither. He was just a man trying to do the best that he could at any given time.
Peter sighed. “I am what I need to be at the moment.”
Henry leaned forward and peered at him through the bottom of his glasses. “And right now, you seem a little—” Feigning surprise, he splayed his somewhat gnarled hand across his chest. “My God, you’re a little annoyed.” And then he smiled. “And this has to do with Ms. Holloway?”
Peter nodded. He had no idea why she rubbed him the wrong way so hard. Ordinarily, he took annoying people in stride. “The woman is a cheerleader for Northeastern Healthcare.”
Henry sobered a little, but looked at Peter sternly. “Northeastern Healthcare is not the devil, you know.”
Peter looked at him in surprise. He’d expected to find an ally in Henry of all people. “Henry, you don’t mean that.”
Rather than retract or retreat, Henry shook his head. His expression mirrored the confusion Peter felt inside. “Oh, I don’t know,” the older man said with a sigh. “Maybe I do. Maybe we’re looking at the face of progress and by digging in against it, we might be turning our backs on something really worthwhile.”
He had no idea what might have caused Henry to say that, but he knew in his soul that the man couldn’t possibly mean it.
“What’s worthwhile is good patient care. You know that, Henry. You don’t have to be a doctor to know how going the extra mile can mean the difference between saving a patient and overlooking symptoms in the interest of the almighty profit margin.”
Whether Henry was playing devil’s advocate or had been brainwashed, Peter had no way of knowing when the administrator said, “The doctors at NHC aren’t all soulless creatures.”
Peter was willing to make a concession only up to a point. “Maybe not, but the organization that they work for won’t allow them to access that part of themselves.” He blew out a frustrated breath, feeling the base he was counting on eroding right beneath his feet. “Let them go take over some other hospital. We’re small—barely a blip on their radar. Why the interest all of a sudden?”
Henry looked surprised by the question. “Don’t underestimate what your father accomplished here. How hard he worked to make sure that Walnut River General was not just up to par, but above and beyond that in every possible way. Before James came on board, this was just ‘a blip’ as you called it. But not anymore. Definitely not anymore.”
But Peter saw it another way. “If we were all that good, David would be here instead of practicing on the West coast.”
“David’s not here because he and your father came to loggerheads and they never patched up their differences,” Henry reminded him. “And besides, maybe we’re just less vain than the patients he finds in Los Angeles.” Henry glanced at the latest quarterly bulletin that the hospital had released. On the front was a list of names of the physicians on staff. “We have excellent cardiologists, excellent orthopedic surgeons and even an oncologist who graduated from Yale.”
Would those same doctors remain if the NHC took over? Peter had his doubts. “Then why would we need NHC?”
It was a tired voice that answered him. “Because we need new equipment.” Henry sighed. “We need a lot of things.”
Peter looked at him incredulously, still unable to believe what he was hearing. “So you’re advocating the takeover?”
Henry shrugged. His head hurt. He’d been thinking of nothing else and waffling ever since the rumors had begun. “I’m advocating retirement. Mine,” he clarified.
It was the last thing Peter had expected, or wanted, to hear. “Henry, no.”
“Yes,” Henry said gently. “I’m old, Peter. Older than your father was.” A lot older, he thought. “And I’m tired. Tired of wrestling with hospital policies, tired of wondering how we’re going to be able to fund this program or that—”
Peter cut in. “You’ve always done a fantastic job. We all thought you were part magician.”
“It’s time for someone else to pull a rabbit out of a hat,” Henry said wearily. He loved the hospital, loved the people who were there, but his health wasn’t what it used to be and it was suffering. He couldn’t do as good a job as he had been doing and he refused to be in a position where the board voted to release him from his contract. “To struggle and lose sleep over ends that just refuse to meet.”
Peter looked at the man closely. Henry did look tired. And there had been that late-onset diabetes that he knew Henry felt confident no one knew about. But he did. That was why he didn’t press, even though he wanted to.
Still, he had to ask, “Your mind’s made up?”
“About the retirement? Yes. About everything else? No.” Henry shook his head again. “In theory, I agree that NHC should keep its sticky fingers off us. But we’re not going to do anyone much good if we have to close our doors because the funding’s not there to keep us going. Doesn’t matter how good our reputation is if we can’t get supplies because there’s no money. Even when we don’t charge some of the poorer patients who can’t afford us, the services aren’t really free, you know. Somebody has to pay for everything from a swab to a suture to everything else. Every department wants more and I just can’t find a way to get it.”
Peter squared his shoulders, as if ready to do battle with some invisible force. “I refuse to believe that HMOs are the only answer.”
“Maybe they’re not,” Henry gladly conceded. “But I for one don’t have any other answer.” He rocked back in his chair. “Except to retire.”
Resigned to the inevitable, Peter asked, “So, how soon?”
Henry glanced at the calendar on his desk and flipped a few pages. He was grateful that Peter wasn’t calling him a coward and accusing him of running away from the battle. “April, maybe May. I’ve already half been scouting around for a replacement.”
Whoever came wouldn’t be nearly as good, Peter thought sadly. “Won’t be the same without you.”
Henry smiled, appreciating the kind words but knowing better. “You’ll manage, Peter. You’re a Wilder. The Wilders always manage.”
The man’s words echoed in Peter’s head long after he’d left Henry’s office. He knew his father had felt that way, as had his grandfather. He only wished he could feel half as confident about it as they had.
Chapter Six
It was hard not to fidget. Even harder not to let his eyes shut.
Peter couldn’t help thinking he had more important
