"I ain't waiting," Hodges insisted. "I'm talking to you and Beaton right now. Nursing, dietary, and housekeeping nonsense can wait. This is important."
"Ha!" Nancy Widner said. "It's just like you, Dr. Hodges, bursting in here and suggesting that nursing concerns aren't important. I'll have you know…"
"Hold on!" Traynor said, extending his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Let's not get into a free-for-all. The fact of the matter is, Dr. Hodges, we are here talking about the rape attempt that occurred last week. I'm sure you are not suggesting that one rape and two attempted rapes by a man in a ski mask are not important."
"It's important," Hodges agreed, "but not as important as what's on my mind. Besides, the rape problem is obviously an in-house affair."
"Just one second!" Traynor demanded. "Are you implying that you know the identity of the rapist?"
"Let's put it this way," Hodges said. "I have my suspicions. But right now I'm not interested in discussing them. I'm interested in these patients." For emphasis he slammed the papers he'd been holding onto the table.
Helen Beaton winced and said: "How dare you come charging in here as if you own the place, telling us what is important and what isn't. As administrator emeritus that's hardly your role."
"Thank you for your uninvited advice," Hodges said.
"All right, all right," Traynor sighed with frustration. His meeting had dissolved into a verbal melee. He picked up Hodges' papers, thrust them into the man's hand, then escorted the doctor from the room. Hodges resisted initially, but ultimately let himself be ushered out.
"We've got to talk, Harold," Hodges said once they were in the hall. "This is serious stuff."
"I'm sure it is," Traynor said, trying to sound sincere. Traynor knew that at some point he'd have to hear Hodges' grievances. Hodges had been the hospital administrator back when Traynor was still in grammar school. Hodges had taken the position when most doctors hadn't been interested in the responsibility. In his thirty years at the helm, Hodges had built Bartlet Community Hospital from a small rural hospital to a true tertiary care center. It was this sprawling institution he'd passed on to Traynor when he'd stepped down from his position three years before.
"Look," Traynor said, "whatever is on your mind, it can surely wait until tomorrow. We'll talk at lunch. In fact, I'll arrange for Barton Sherwood and Dr. Delbert Cantor to join us. If what you want to discuss concerns policy, which I assume it does, then it would be best to have the vice chairman and the chief of the professional staff there as well. Don't you agree?"
"I suppose," Hodges admitted reluctantly.
"Then it's settled," Traynor said soothingly, eager to get back and salvage what he could of his meeting now that Hodges was placated for the time being. "I'll contact them tonight."
"I might not be administrator any longer," Hodges added, "but I still feel responsible for what goes on around here. After all, if it hadn't been for me you wouldn't have been named to the board, much less elected chairman."
"I understand that," Traynor said. Then he joked: "But I don't know whether to thank you or curse you for this dubious honor."
"I'm worried you've let the power go to your head," Hodges said.
"Oh, come on!" Traynor said. "What do you mean, 'power'? This job is nothing but one headache after another."
"You're essentially running a hundred-million-dollar entity," Hodges said. "And it's the largest employer in this whole part of the state. That means power."
Traynor laughed nervously. "It's still a pain in the neck. And we're lucky to be in business. I don't have to remind you that our two competitors no longer are. Valley Hospital closed, and the Mary Sackler has been turned into a nursing home."
"We might still be open, but I'm afraid you money men are forgetting the hospital's mission."
"Oh, bullcrap!" Traynor snapped, losing a bit of control. "You old docs have to wake up to a new reality. It's not easy running a hospital in the current environment of cost-cutting, managed care, and government intervention. It isn't cost-plus anymore like you had it. Times have changed, demanding new adaptations and new strategies for survival. Washington is mandating it."
Hodges laughed derisively: " Washington sure isn't mandating what you and your cohorts are doing."
"The hell they aren't," Traynor argued. "It's called competition, Dennis. Survival of the fittest and the leanest. No more sleight-of-hand cost-shifting like you used to get away with."
Traynor paused, realizing that he was losing his composure. He wiped away the perspiration that had broken out on his forehead. He took a deep breath. "Listen, Dennis, I've got to get back into the conference room. You go home, calm down, relax, get some sleep. We'll get together tomorrow and go over whatever is on your mind, okay?"
"I am a bit tuckered," Hodges admitted.
"Sure you are," Traynor agreed.
"Tomorrow for lunch? Promise? No excuses?"
"Absolutely," Traynor said as he gave Hodges a prodding pat on the back. "At the inn at twelve sharp."
With relief Traynor watched his old mentor trudge toward the hospital lobby with his distinctive lumbering gait, rocking on his hips as if they were stiff. Turning back toward the conference room, Traynor marveled at the man's uncanny flair for causing turmoil. Unfortunately, Hodges was going beyond being a nuisance. He was becoming a virtual albatross.
"Can we have some order here," Traynor called out over the bedlam to which he returned. "I apologize for the interruption. Unfortunately, old Doc Hodges has a particular knack for showing up at the most inopportune times."
"That's an understatement," Beaton said. "He's forever barging into my office to complain that one of his former patients isn't getting what he considers VIP treatment. He acts as if he's still running this place."
"The food is never to his liking," Geraldine Polcari complained.
"Nor is the room cleaning," added Gloria Suarez.
"He comes into my office about once a week," Nancy Widner said. "It's always the same complaint. The nurses aren't responding quickly enough to his former patients' requests."
"He's their self-elected ombudsman," Beaton said.
"They're the only people in the town that can stand him," Nancy said. "Just about everyone else thinks he's a crotchety old coot."
"Do you think he knows the identity of the rapist?" Patrick Swegler asked.
"Heavens, no," Nancy said. "The man's just a blowhard."
"What do you think, Mr. Traynor?" Patrick Swegler persisted.
Traynor shrugged. "I doubt he knows anything, but I'll certainly ask when I meet with him tomorrow."
"I don't envy you that lunch," Beaton said.
"I'm not looking forward to it," Traynor admitted. "I've always felt he deserved a certain amount of respect, but to be truthful my resolve is wearing a bit thin.
"Now, let's get back to the matter at hand." Traynor soon had the meeting back on track, but for him the joy of the evening had been lost.
Hodges trudged straight up Main Street in the middle of the road. For the moment there were no vehicles moving in either direction. The plows hadn't come through yet; two inches of powdery new snow blanketed the town as still more flakes fell.
Hodges cursed under his breath, giving partial vent to his unappeased anger. Now that he was on his way home he felt angry for having allowed Traynor to put him off.
Coming abreast of the town green with its deserted, snow-covered gazebo, Hodges could see north past the Methodist church. There, in the distance, directly up Front Street, he could just make out the hospital's main building. Hodges paused, gazing wistfully at the structure. A sense of foreboding descended over him with a shiver. He'd devoted his life to the hospital so that it would serve the people of the town. But now he feared that it was faltering in its mission.