Chương 3
“I retired.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“For some people it is.”
He looked older in the service-hall light. The ceremonial uniform fit him well, but his left shoulder sat slightly lower than his right. His reconstructed knee had stiffened during dinner. He had hidden it when he stood to salute.
“I tried to find you after Walter Reed,” he said.
“You found me tonight.”
“You know what I mean.”
Evelyn adjusted one earring. “I moved to Maryland.”
“You changed your number.”
“I got too many calls.”
“From people who cared about you.”
“From people who wanted me to speak at luncheons.”
“Some of us just wanted to know whether you were alive.”
She looked at him then.
His face held no accusation he had not already earned the right to make.
“I’m alive,” she said.
“I can see that.”
They stood without speaking. A dishwasher laughed somewhere behind the wall. The sound was brief and ordinary.
Vance glanced toward the ballroom doors. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with him.”
“I’ve dealt with worse men.”
“That doesn’t make him acceptable.”
“No.”
“You could have ended him in front of that room.”
Evelyn’s mouth tightened. “That phrase is why I don’t go online.”
“He deserved worse than he got.”
“He deserves consequences. Those are not always the same as destruction.”
Vance looked toward the door again. “You read the agreement?”
“All of it.”
“And?”
“It’s worse than you thought.”
He let out a breath.
“How much worse?”
“The expansion budget assumes ninety-two percent occupancy by the fourth month. The clinical staffing plan only supports sixty percent of the promised treatment schedule. The real estate entity would be separate from the care entity, and the center would pay rent whether the beds were full or not.”
Vance’s scar pulled tight. “Malcolm said the rent was fixed.”
“For three years.”
“And after that?”
“Market adjustment.”
His expression hardened. “They’d own the building.”
“The investment partnership would.”
“And we’d pay them to use it.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Thirty years, with extension rights.”
Vance stared at the floor.
A banquet worker pushed a cart of half-empty glasses past them. Several held slices of lemon slowly sinking in melted ice.
“I knew it was a trap,” he said.
“It may not have been designed as one.”
“You’re defending Holloway?”
“I’m describing incentives. Grant’s firm needs predictable returns. Malcolm needs immediate capital. The center needs more beds. Everyone is solving a different problem and pretending it’s the same problem.”
“Veterans will pay for the difference.”
“They usually do.”
Vance looked at her sharply.
Evelyn rubbed the worn edge of her ring with her thumb.
“I want to see the current facility before anyone shows me renderings,” she said.
“You’re still helping?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“You said it was worse than I thought.”
“That isn’t a decision.”
“It should be.”
“This is why you were a colonel and not a surgeon.”
His mouth twitched. “You always said that when I was right.”
“I said it when you were impatient.”
“Same thing, sometimes.”
The ballroom door opened. Malcolm came into the corridor with Grant behind him and a woman in a black dress holding two phones.
Malcolm looked ten years older than he had at the table.
“General,” the woman said, “I’m Caroline Price, communications director for the foundation.”
Evelyn nodded.
“The clip is spreading quickly,” Caroline said. “We’re preparing a statement affirming our respect for your service and making clear that Mr. Holloway’s comments do not reflect the values of the center.”
Grant’s eyes narrowed slightly at the wording.
Evelyn noticed.
“Don’t use my service to improve your statement,” she said.
Caroline blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“Say what happened. Don’t wrap it in flags.”
Grant crossed his arms. “There are legal implications.”
“There are always legal implications after someone behaves badly in public.”
Malcolm took a step forward. “Could we speak privately?”
“This corridor is private enough.”
“Evelyn, please.”
She looked at Vance.
He understood. “I’ll be outside.”
“You don’t have to leave.”
“I know.”
He walked toward the loading entrance, his limp more visible now that no one important was supposed to be watching.
Caroline’s phones vibrated in alternating bursts.
Malcolm waited until Vance was out of earshot.
“I asked Arthur to invite you,” he said.
Evelyn looked at him.
“I also arranged your seat.”
Grant turned toward Malcolm. “You did what?”
Malcolm ignored him. “I wanted you near the people making the decision.”
“You wanted me near Grant.”
“Yes.”
“Did Grant know who I was?”
“No.”
Grant stared at the older man. “You set me up?”
Malcolm’s face reddened. “I did not instruct you to insult her.”
“You placed a retired general beside me without telling me, during the most important fundraising event of the year.”
“I placed a medical expert beside you.”
“You knew what would happen.”
“No,” Malcolm said. “I hoped you would speak to her.”
“You hoped she would be impressed.”
Malcolm looked at Evelyn.
That was the second hesitation of the night.
Evelyn felt something colder than anger settle behind her ribs.
“You wanted my endorsement,” she said.
“I wanted your judgment.”
“In public.”
“I wanted you to see the people this project matters to.”
“You sent me financial documents and then seated me at the sponsor table without telling me why.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come if I explained.”
“You were right.”
Caroline lowered one phone. “The board chair is asking whether we should postpone tomorrow’s announcement.”
“What announcement?” Evelyn asked.
No one answered immediately.
Grant finally did.
“The partnership.”
Evelyn looked at Malcolm.
He rubbed his mouth. “We intended to announce that we had entered final negotiations.”
“You haven’t completed due diligence.”
“We’ve been doing due diligence for six months.”
“You haven’t completed clinical due diligence.”
Grant’s tone sharpened. “That isn’t a formal condition.”
“It should be.”
“The project can’t wait forever for every consultant to become comfortable.”
“I’m not uncomfortable. I’m unconvinced.”
May you like
“The center has a fourteen-month waiting list.”
“And your staffing model reduces average residential treatment from twelve weeks to seven.”
