but something weird had happened to her. A switch had been thrown. But what? A word? A sound? A smell?
Zack drummed his long fingers on the desk. He felt his thoughts darting out at the answer again and again, like the tongue of a snake. But each time not quite far enough… not quite far enough… Finally, he slid Toby Nelms's file back in front of him and opened it, — ice again, to the first page. They're not going to get you, kid, ' he whispered. 'I swear, they're not going to get you.' Come, here. So., ong the best of the old New England inns, the Granite House 'Darral. The slanting, hardwood floors, beamed ceilings, and oddly regard foroms, each with a stone hearth, were rated by the guides as man who is Vess wonderful than the cuisine and service. being your brotin had chosen the spot carefully for his first encounter tal.' egional trustees, specifically, this night, a successful 'It's not his hccrook, and Whitey Bourque, the rotund, often outtoo much on my mithe local A amp; P. 'Like what? ' I gone well-better than he had dared hope.
Every instinct wated the conversation beautifully, weaving accounts his theories to himstsses and plans in with reminiscences of some golf He stared down at. d with Crook, and some interested queries about Mainwaring wqhter, Renee, one of the finest young horsewomen in the 'Suzanne, ` lieve that humey sat in the otherwise deserted Colonial Room, sipping 'Now smoking after-dinner cigars, he felt ready to nail the two 'And.'. might bre were twenty-one members of the board. Frank considered six Srm to be all but in the bag-either because of their relationship enci him or because of business they would lose if Ultramed was forced sut of Sterling. Allowing for two no-shows at the meeting-and given the board's track record, that was a conservative estimate-he would need only three or four more votes to block the buy back regardless of the Judge's position. And at least half of those votes were right there at the table, sitting, it seemed, in the palm of his hand. All he needed to do, ever so carefully, was close his fingers.
Unlimited potential… Frank allowed himself the flicker of a smile.
Don't go too far away, Ms. Baron, he thought, eyeing the two men over his snifter. I'm coming. 'They sure know how to do it right here, don't they, ' he began. Bill Crook, logy from the meal and the drinks, mumbled agreement.
He was a slap-on-the-back Ivy Leaguer with a reputation for enthusiastically supporting the ideas of others while never coming up with an original one of any substance. Whitey Bourque belched and dabbed at his lips with the corner of his napkin. Frank noticed the tangles of fine veins reddening his cheeks. 'Good beef, ' he humphed. 'Nothing we don't have at the store, but good.'
'Lisette always said yours is the only place in town to buy meat, Whitey, ' Frank said. 'As a matter of fact, I think I'll have her stop by tomorrow and stock up our freezer… So, now, before we break up and head home to our families, I want to be sure I've answered all the questions either of you might have about just what Ultramed has on the drawing board for our hospital.
Bill?'
The banker thought for a moment, and then shook his head. 'Sounds like a pretty ambitious and exciting set of objectives to me, Frank, ' he said.
'And don't forget for a moment that Ultramed plans to finance every one of these projects with local money. Sterling National Bank money, if I have my way. Whitey?'
Bourque shook three sugars into a cup of coffee and drank it in one gulp. 'No questions, ' he said. 'I'll have details of our proposal for competitive bidding on our dietary service in your hands by the end of the month.'
'That'll be fine, Frank. Fine.'
'Excellent.' Frank glanced at the check, and then handed it and his Gold Card to the waitress. 'Bring us a few more of those little mints, honey,
' he said. He cleared his throat and turned back to the table. 'So, gentlemen, I've enjoyed sharing this meal with you both, and I presume Ultramed and I can count on your support at the board meeting Friday.'
The two men looked at one another, silently selecting a spokesman.
Whitey Bourque was chosen. 'Well, Frank, ' he said, 'all we can tell you at this time is, that depends.'
Frank felt suddenly cold. 'Depends on what?'
'On what your father comes up with these next couple of days. He called us yesterday, Frank, and asked us to keep our minds open on this business until he had checked up on a few things. I felt that considering how much help he was to me during last year's fund raiser for the new parish house, that was the least I could do.'
'And I owe him for the way he stepped in when my boy Ted experimented with that damn dago red wine and had that accident,' Crook chimed in.
'He saved the kid's buns for sure.'
'Gentlemen, please, ' Frank said, struggling to keep any note of desperation from his voice. 'I'm not arguing against the good works the Judge does around this town. For goodness sakes, that's a given. And I'm proud to be his son. But it's apples and oranges. What we're talking about here is support for your hospital and the good works we've been doing. Renee's broken wrist, Whitey. Remember that?
Or… or how about that coronary your mother had last year, Bill?
People say that if it weren't for our new unit and our new cardiologist, she would have died.'
'I… I understand,' Crook said, staring down into his empty glass. well? 77 Whitey Bourque sighed. 'Frank, we're sorry, ' he said. 'We'd like to help you out, but we gave the Judge our word we'd wait and follow his recommendation. He's the chairman of the board, and he's doin' all the legwork on this thing. All we want is what's best for Sterling. Since we're all too busy to do in-depth research of any kind, we're sort of counting on him to steer us in the right direction. I hope things work out. And whatever happens, I intend to help you and the hospital in any way I can.'
'Ditto for me, Frank, ' Crook said. 'Well, then… I guess there's nothing more I can say, is there.'
'You gave a good presentation, Frank,' Bourque said, standing. 'A damn good presentation. Your father'd be proud.'
'Hey, what the heck. We'll work it out, Whitey. I'm sure of it.'
Frank forced the words through a noose of anger and frustration tightening about his throat. He walked the two men to the dirt parking lot, shook their hands amiably, and watched until their taillights had disappeared into the night. Then he turned and landed a vicious kick on the door of the Porsche, leaving a dent and a small scrape. Heedless of the damage, he leapt behind the wheel and skidded from the lot, spraying a retired salesman and his wife with sand and stones. From the moment she had heard the Porsche screech into the drive and the screen door slam, Lisette knew it was going to be another one of those nights. With a mumbled greeting and not so much as a peck on the cheek, Frank stormed past her and into his den. She stood in the darkened hallway, waiting for the clink of ice in his glass. Frank did not disappoint her. Now, as she brewed a pot of the herbal tea that Frank had once introduced to her as 'the only drink I ever touch after ten, ' she battled the urge to bury herself in bed. She set the pot, two cups, some sliced lemon, and some sugar wafers on a tray and carried them to the study. Frank was standing in one corner, his back to her, reading. 'Hi, what's the book?
' she asked. 'Nothing.'
He shoved the volume back into the bookcase and turned to her, but she had caught enough of a glimpse to know. It was his high school yearbook.
'Frank, are you okay?'
'Yeah, sure, I'm great. Do me a favor and just leave me alone, will you?
' His words were already beginning to slur. 'I brought you some tea.'
'I don't want any fucking tea.'
'Frank, please.'
'I said I don't want any goddamn tea!'
He swiped his arm across hers, sending the tray spinning across the room. Tea splattered on the wall. The fine china, a wedding gift from her mother, shattered. Stunned, she stared at the mess. 'Frank, something's wrong with you, ' she said as calmly as she could. 'You need help. Please, honey. I love you. The girls love you. For our sake, you've got to get some help.' She stepped toward him, her arms extended.
'I don't need any help! ' he screamed. 'What I need is to be left alone! '
'Please.'
She took one more tentative step forward, and he hit her-a swift, backhand slap to the side of the face that sent her reeling against a chair. 'I don't need you. I don't need my fucking father. I don't need goddamn Ultramed. I don't need anyone! I'm going to make it, and nothing any of you can do is-' He stopped in mid-sentence and looked down at her as if noticing her for the first time. Instantly, the fury in his face vanished.
