to each of the meeting’s participants.
She took pains to make the room comfortable. The thermostat was set to seventy-two degrees. Sarah adjusted the vertical shades so that the sun wouldn’t blind anyone as the morning progressed. She directed the hotel to offer specialty coffees, espresso and chai before the meeting got underway. She awaited a delivery of French pastries from the Meinigs’ favorite patisserie. Just as she was putting the finishing touches on the room, the tray of tarts, éclairs, scones and petit fours arrived and was placed next to the hot pots of coffee and the bottles of water, juice and soft drinks.
The hospital’s team — less Albert Cappelli — was told to arrive by 9:15 in order to do a final review of the presentation before the meeting got underway. Joanne Marsh, Ted Ainslie, Aimee Sackoff and John Mess arrived together by cab a few minutes early. Rob DiPerna, fresh from LaGuardia, walked in with Harry and Doris, who would be keeping the minutes of the meeting. Dr. Smith, having run from the hospital, came through the door at precisely 9:15. His parka, green scrubs and white sneakers stood in bold relief to the tailored suits and fine footwear worn by the lawyers and administrators in the room.
The team finished its final run-through in less than half an hour and the tension in the room started to rise as everyone awaited the Arkins’ arrival. Mess and Ainslie together paced along the length of the room. Sarah took the opportunity to use the bathroom one last time. When the Arkins and their lawyer walked in at seven minutes past ten, Harry muttered a curse under his breath. The Arkins did not, in fact, bring Larry Heidigger, general counsel for Arkin Worldwide, a guy Harry knew to be someone he could work with. No, the Arkins were represented by Reid Baumgarten, famous for winning eye-popping medical malpractice awards. He was slicker than snot and, thanks to the handiwork of his plastic surgeon and cosmetic dentist, movie-star handsome. Plaintiffs loved him for winning them both vindication and a bundle of money for their troubles. Harry figured they were done for. There was no way Baumgarten would let millions be funneled into hospital improvements in lieu of a fat settlement for his clients.
From the get-go, Harry had thought it best to have Sarah run the meeting. Given his history with Arkin, there was no point in picking that scab. And it was Sarah who knew every last detail of the remediation plan. As people started to take their seats and the hotel waiters took everyone’s beverage order, Harry leaned over and quietly whispered in Sarah’s ear, “Knock ’em dead, kiddo.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow and whispered back, “There’s only one guy in the room I hope to knock dead.” With a little grin, she got up and called the meeting to order.
* * *
Sarah had been deliberate in her seating arrangement. She’d placed the Arkins and their attorney at the base of the U shape created by three tables. To Mark Arkin’s immediate right, at a table perpendicular to the one at which he was seated, was Dr. Smith. Sackoff, Marsh and DiPerna sat to Smith’s right. Harry sat beside the Arkins’ legal counsel and opposite Dr. Smith. Sarah, Doris, Mess and Ainslie were to Harry’s left.
Thinking back on it later, Sarah didn’t know how she remained so cool. She stood in the middle of the room and addressed her remarks to the Arkins, whom she’d previously seen together only in the society page of the Sunday paper. “We appreciate you taking the time to meet with us after the difficult week you’ve experienced,” she began. “We’d like to thank both of you in advance for giving us the opportunity to explain our plan for improvement.”
It was clear they were still suffering the effects of their ordeal. Mark looked haggard, showing every day of his fifty-two years. Catherine Malloy-Arkin had her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail; she appeared tired and wan.
Like the
She took pains to make the room comfortable. The thermostat was set to seventy-two degrees. Sarah adjusted the vertical shades so that the sun wouldn’t blind anyone as the morning progressed. She directed the hotel to offer specialty coffees, espresso and chai before the meeting got underway. She awaited a delivery of French pastries from the Meinigs’ favorite patisserie. Just as she was putting the finishing touches on the room, the tray of tarts, éclairs, scones and petit fours arrived and was placed next to the hot pots of coffee and the bottles of water, juice and soft drinks.
The hospital’s team — less Albert Cappelli — was told to arrive by 9:15 in order to do a final review of the presentation before the meeting got underway. Joanne Marsh, Ted Ainslie, Aimee Sackoff and John Mess arrived together by cab a few minutes early. Rob DiPerna, fresh from LaGuardia, walked in with Harry and Doris, who would be keeping the minutes of the meeting. Dr. Smith, having run from the hospital, came through the door at precisely 9:15. His parka, green scrubs and white sneakers stood in bold relief to the tailored suits and fine footwear worn by the lawyers and administrators in the room.
The team finished its final run-through in less than half an hour and the tension in the room started to rise as everyone awaited the Arkins’ arrival. Mess and Ainslie together paced along the length of the room. Sarah took the opportunity to use the bathroom one last time. When the Arkins and their lawyer walked in at seven minutes past ten, Harry muttered a curse under his breath. The Arkins did not, in fact, bring Larry Heidigger, general counsel for Arkin Worldwide, a guy Harry knew to be someone he could work with. No, the Arkins were represented by Reid Baumgarten, famous for winning eye-popping medical malpractice awards. He was slicker than snot and, thanks to the handiwork of his plastic surgeon and cosmetic dentist, movie-star handsome. Plaintiffs loved him for winning them both vindication and a bundle of money for their troubles. Harry figured they were done for. There was no way Baumgarten would let millions be funneled into hospital improvements in lieu of a fat settlement for his clients.
From the get-go, Harry had thought it best to have Sarah run the meeting. Given his history with Arkin, there was no point in picking that scab. And it was Sarah who knew every last detail of the remediation plan. As people started to take their seats and the hotel waiters took everyone’s beverage order, Harry leaned over and quietly whispered in Sarah’s ear, “Knock ’em dead, kiddo.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow and whispered back, “There’s only one guy in the room I hope to knock dead.” With a little grin, she got up and called the meeting to order.
* * *
Sarah had been deliberate in her seating arrangement. She’d placed the Arkins and their attorney at the base of the U shape created by three tables. To Mark Arkin’s immediate right, at a table perpendicular to the one at which he was seated, was Dr. Smith. Sackoff, Marsh and DiPerna sat to Smith’s right. Harry sat beside the Arkins’ legal counsel and opposite Dr. Smith. Sarah, Doris, Mess and Ainslie were to Harry’s left.
Thinking back on it later, Sarah didn’t know how she remained so cool. She stood in the middle of the room and addressed her remarks to the Arkins, whom she’d previously seen together only in the society page of the Sunday paper. “We appreciate you taking the time to meet with us after the difficult week you’ve experienced,” she began. “We’d like to thank both of you in advance for giving us the opportunity to explain our plan for improvement.”
It was clear they were still suffering the effects of their ordeal. Mark looked haggard, showing every day of his fifty-two years. Catherine Malloy-Arkin had her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail; she appeared tired and wan.
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