by Maren Cooper
“I don’t know. At best, it may have been a matter of ‘if it’s not broke, don’t fix it,’ though that’s surely shortsighted. And at worst”—Adam swallowed hard, his eyes darting around the coffee shop—“maybe they didn’t want anyone else to know what they were doing.”
Jess registered his hesitancy, then used the momentum by asking, “Was anyone else wondering what was going on, trying to get involved?”
“Not really. You know, most doctors don’t really care much about the practice details if they’re making decent money and the patients keep coming—much to our discredit, I think, but it’s true. Nobody really came to my rescue when I made a stink about recruiting more MDs, especially women. It would mean fewer dollars for everyone for a while. But c’mon—that’s so necessary for growing a business, or at least for having a good airing of views about the future of the practice.” He paused. “I guess I just got tired of being the squeaky wheel.” He glanced across the room. “And I didn’t want to be the next Sloane.”
“The next Sloane, as in Dr. Sloane?” Jess now knew the name of the doctor at the board meeting who had inadvertently cut off any further questions when he’d asked about what would happen with the interview findings.
“Yes, but you didn’t get that from me. I’m not going to talk about that.” He put his hands out to signal a stop. “Ask Sloane about his experience trying to shake things up. Let me just say, it was a cautionary tale.”
“OK, I will.” Jess wanted to be sure. “So, Larry Personne never solicited help from any of you, after Floyd Ramsey died, to help sort things out?” She flashed back to her meeting with Larry when he had presented himself as the vulnerable leader with no willing help from his group.
“No, he didn’t.” Adam exhaled as he spoke, appearing relieved to have this off his chest. “And, as you might expect, that wasn’t because I didn’t offer.”
Jess returned a weak smile and sat silently for a moment, letting Adam’s words sink in. His story certainly conflicted with what Larry had told her.
Who was telling the truth? She remembered her own recent experience with duplicity, wondering what was true and whom could be trusted and how the churn of that time still echoed in her. She could empathize with this young doctor, trying to get involved, yet never gaining any traction. “Wow,” she finally said. “What do you want to see happen here, Adam?”
“Frankly, I’m glad it’s coming to a head. I’m intrigued with whatever might come from a Midwest Health connection. But if that doesn’t work, I’ve already made some overtures. Even if I have to leave this area, I’ll go where I can actually do what I’ve wanted to do from the first—get involved in helping shape the future of health care.” He looked at his watch again and started to gather his things to leave.
“I’m so grateful for your candor,” Jess said. “Let me assure you that your eagerness to get involved in practice issues and the future of health care is admirable. I’m just sorry that you were ‘shut down,’ as you describe it—such a waste for you and for the practice. Too few young doctors have the desire and drive to get involved, and here you are!” She smiled at him.
When he stood to leave, he asked her to keep him in the loop if there was anything else he could do. “I will, Adam. And one last thing. Do you remember a woman named Alice Lang who worked in the business office?”
“Yes, I remember her. She was actually very nice and tried to explain a few things to me, but Floyd came down hard on her and stopped that. I think she retired shortly afterward. He was really annoyed if anyone crossed him. What a jerk. Terrible how he died, but he was the epitome of a control freak.”
After Adam left, Jess thought about how many practices would praise the Lord for a young guy like him. Then she checked her calendar and noted that she was scheduled to interview Dr. Sloane in a couple of weeks. None too soon.
Chapter 35
The much-anticipated getaway got off to a bumpy start. Jim was called in on a complicated case, and they were late leaving town on Saturday.
“Sorry about this. I really wanted to get an earlier start,” Jim said when he picked her up. He smiled as he held the door for her and watched as she settled into his car.
The wait hadn’t helped her nerves. But once she saw Jim, her mind released thoughts of Should I be doing this? and relaxed into a pleasurable, tingling sensation as his eyes focused only on her. “No problem. Augusta is just a couple hours’ drive; we have plenty of time.” She had to think hard to remember the last time she had been in the passenger side of a car, and she truly could not recall the last time someone had opened a door for her.
She saw Jim’s stash of CDs and sorted through them. “Wow, you’re a jazz man for sure. These are amazing. Should we listen?” Jess found some of her favorite musicians’ names among his collection: Scott Joplin, Duke Ellington, Charlie Parker, Ella Fitzgerald.
She put on a John Coltrane CD. “I didn’t know this about you. Keep driving. I’m in heaven.” She chose several to play, Jim nodding at each. She pulled the last CD from the box, felt a tremor, and dropped it. Miles Davis. Years were erased in seconds as she remembered her early days with Arthur and their nights with Miles.
She shook it off. Nope. No memories of Arthur allowed this weekend. And no shop talk, either. She didn’t want the Goodmoor difficulties to loom large, so she resisted the temptation to bring up the practice just to hear what might be top of mind for Jim.
It started to rain. The windshield wipers held up for a while, acting almost as a metronome for the music. The swooshing gained momentum as Jim changed the wiper speed to keep up with the rain, which fell harder and then turned icy.
“Mixed precipitation: my favorite driving challenge. At least we made it out of the city traffic first.” Jim squeezed her knee before putting both hands firmly on the wheel.
Just as they were making headway through the late-winter sleet, chatting and singing along with Jim’s sizable music collection, traffic stalled on the two-lane highway. Jim turned the wipers off, and they were cocooned in a crystalline world filled with the sound of ice pellets stinging car metal. The Missouri River bluffs were barely visible.
“Romantic, huh?” Jim grinned and leaned in for a soft kiss. The high pitch of sirens caused them both to jump back into position and added to the soundtrack of Wynton Marsalis. Jess got the giggles. No way this man could be involved in something sinister at Goodmoor. Or was that wishful thinking? She needed to find out for sure. But how?
Jim got out of the car to see what was happening and returned with a report. “Well, fortunately, it’s a police siren, not an ambulance. A car hit a deer, and there’s a four-car pileup ahead, but no injuries.”
After waiting thirty more minutes for highway patrol to arrive and direct traffic, they were both getting punchy.
“Not the best luck for our getaway.” Jim stopped drumming his hands on the wheel and glanced over at Jess. “I hope you aren’t taking this as a sign.”
She laughed, and he joined her. “Are you worrying I’m getting cold feet?” She couldn’t help but think of the temper tantrum Arthur would have thrown by now. He didn’t like it when things didn’t go his way. She marveled at how Jim had kept his cool throughout. “You do keep a girl guessing—that’s for sure.”
Finally, the disabled cars were removed and traffic began moving in the open lane. They dropped their bags with the owner of their bed-and-breakfast at seven thirty and made it to the restaurant in time for their eight o’clock dinner reservation.
Jim took her hand and followed the hostess to a candlelit corner table. “Wasn’t exactly how I planned it, but here we are!” He pulled her chair out for her.
“And what an adventure we had!” Jess smiled broadly, setting aside any misgivings. She had decided on a plan to get to the truth, but not tonight.
The server came with a bottle of wine from Mt. Pleasant, one of the local wineries, that Jim had called ahead to reserve. His brown eyes twinkled in the candlelight as he toasted their evening. “To o
ur love of jazz and our getaway.”
The mixed precipitation had stopped by dinner’s end, leaving a glossy sheen on the boulevard trees and benches on the downtown Augusta walkway.
They held on to each other on the icy sidewalk and made their way to the only bar still open for a nightcap, before heading back to the B and B.
By then they were better friends, soon to become lovers.
“So, New York Times in the breakfast room now, or save it for later, after our hike?” Jim asked when he came in with two mugs of steaming coffee on a dainty little tray, looking for a spot to put something down in the overdecorated, overstuffed room. Brica-brac was everywhere. Desperate but chuckling, he put the tray on the bed, where Jess still lay sleepily, wrapped in a sheet.
“Hey, it’s Sunday morning,” she said suggestively, feeling quite lovable and hopeful. “Our first Sunday morning together, I might add. Maybe we can just snuggle in here with our coffee and the paper. What’s the hurry?”
Jim did not miss the invitation. In a series of exaggerated comic moves, he threw the heavy sham and quilt from the armchair and table, primly situated the tray on the side table, and threw himself at her, pulling her to him, preparing to ravage her. “Next time I make arrangements for a romantic getaway, please remind me not to book a fussy B and B, and to closely review things like Sunday checkout time.”
“You’re kidding.” She pushed him away. “Really? We have to check out now? What time is it, anyway?” She squirmed out of his arms and toward the bedside table to find her watch.
“Eleven ten. Checkout was at eleven. They’ve held breakfast for us until eleven thirty, and they’re holding a New York Times for us, too.”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe it. Did you know it was this late?” She jumped out of bed and grabbed her glasses. Fully dressed, Jim stood by without moving a muscle, enjoying the show as she cast about for her clothes and pulled herself together.
Not until she tried to go to sleep that night in her own bed did doubts about Jim resurface. She should have waited until morning to check her e-mail and let the afterglow of her getaway lull her to sleep. Instead, a message from Joyce about their lack of progress on Goodmoor’s billing problems reminded her of the unknowns she had yet to investigate. She hoped Jim wasn’t involved, but she couldn’t be sure of anything just yet. Had the practice made fraudulent financial gains? If so, had he played a part? Her mind spun with questions, until, finally, she drifted off.
Chapter 36
“We know you’re busy getting ready to fly to Italy for Liliana’s wedding, but could you handle a girls’ dinner at Claire’s Wednesday night? Or we could bring dinner and PJ to your house and help you pack? We miss you.”
Jess smiled as she listened to Diane’s phone message. Yeah, right, she thought. They miss me, but they really want to know how my weekend went. Well, they deserved a bit of fun, having carried her through some very rough spots. But she would have to respond later. She had a more pressing matter on her mind. She walked down to Cindy’s office to see if she was free earlier than they had scheduled to meet that morning.
Cindy was just finishing a meeting. Jess saw Dan’s office door open, so she ducked in for a quick greeting.
“How goes it?” he asked. “Getting Goodmoor sorted out?” He turned from his desk as she entered. “Can’t be too horrible. You look very cheery.”
“Well, still sorting, I’m afraid. But I should be able to brief you later this week before I leave town. And”—she smiled proudly—“I am cheery. My kids and I are taking a trip to Italy for a wedding.”
“Wow! That sounds like fun. Someone close, then?”
“Liliana’s the daughter of a dear friend, Vincente. She came to nanny for us when the kids were young, and we’ve stayed close. This trip will work pretty well with school breaks. We’ve been looking forward to it for the past year.”
“Time flies, doesn’t it? I can’t believe Tom is almost through his freshman year in college. I remember his high school graduation party—seems like yesterday.”
“Yes, they grow up so fast, and this year has been a challenge. But they’re doing well.” She paused, thinking about her own growing-up years and the central drama of her parents’ divorce. “You know, Dan, my kids really have it made, compared with how I had to make my way, as did you.” She squeezed his arm. “But I feel like they get that and are good people, caring and loving, and both will be OK. I’m very proud of both of them.”
“No small credit to you, Jess. You’ve raised great kids.” As if encouraged by her mood, he braved the next question. “I assume Arthur will be there—what’s up with him these days?”
“Oh, yes, he should be there. He’s pretty settled into the Portland community now, and he says his research is going well. So I guess he’s fine.” She felt her smile fade a tad, and she didn’t meet his eyes as she spoke. She didn’t want to discuss Arthur anymore.
She stood and took a quick look down the hall. “Looks like Cindy is free now. I’ll give you an update before I leave. It hasn’t been easy to untangle. Too early to be definitive.”
Cindy met her in her office doorway. “Let’s take a walk and get some coffee. I need a change of scenery, and”—she smiled—“I want to hear about your weekend.”
“God! Can nobody have a private life around here?” Jess faked outrage as they started toward the elevator.
“You have to remember, I was there the night you two met! I have certain rights. Seeing that chemistry firsthand was so exciting. So, enough stalling,” Cindy said. “How was the romantic getaway? And do not use the word ‘fine.’”
They both laughed, and then Jess, feeling herself blush, offered, “It was lovely. Far enough away to feel removed from the familiar, yet not so far that we drove forever. Romantic without being sophomoric. We had some fun. I’d like to do it again.”
“Is that all I get?” Cindy challenged.
“Yup,” Jess answered, and they laughed again.
On their walk back to the office, Cindy told Jess about her meeting with Alice Lang. “She’s retired now and was somewhat reluctant to meet. But when I told her what was at stake, she agreed to speak to me off the record. Alice really liked the doctors in the group.”
“What did she say about the billing?”
“Enough that we can assume there were some overbilling issues, and that’s why she had trouble with Floyd. She challenged their practices, and he tried to discredit her. When that didn’t work, he made life miserable for her. She finally left without raising a ruckus, because that’s not who she is.”
Jess pulled a face at that, then asked, “Did she say anything else about Floyd?”
“She described him as an autocratic, mean man who was very short with the staff. But he had his favorites among the doctor group. She did point me to something we should check on beyond the billing. She said that Floyd took some of his favorite doctors on fancy trips to California and Mexico, sponsored by pharmaceutical companies.”
“Who were his favorite doctors? Was Personne among them?”
“Oh, yes. He and Floyd were evidently very tight. And an internist no longer with the group—a Dr. Boyd. Alice also said that she challenged Floyd on a payment from Memorial Hospital for the ongoing consultative directorship of a doctor who had actually left the practice years earlier.”
When they finished their walk, they popped back into Cindy’s office to finish up.
“Well, I’m sure it wasn’t easy to get Alice to open up, but, thanks to her, the picture is coming into focus. Good job, Cindy.”
Jess shared the Adam Bright interview findings, and they both drew the same conclusion: it wasn’t good.
“I’m going to call on an old friend at Memorial to check out this doctor arrangement. Can you or Joyce follow up on the sponsored trips? Under the circumstances, I don’t want to ask Dr. Personne about either of those things.”
They agreed on a plan, though Jess knew Cindy was as worried as she herself was about wha
t they might find.
The cooling breeze of a springtime dusk shook the fresh green buds off the trees as Jess rounded the final corner of her running route back to Claire’s. She slowed down to a walk for the last block, controlling her breathing and smiling at the anticipation of seeing her friends and PJ.
Jess had always been able to compartmentalize, and the Goodmoor quandary couldn’t keep her from enjoying this fun evening. But the possibilities of what this puzzle meant intrigued her. Larry Personne had kept his distance from her since their meeting. Was he embarrassed about having shown his weakness? Or did he know that she was still digging? Adam Bright had seemed to shine a light on what was going on, and Alice had certainly solidified her earlier suspicions. Once Jess had done a few more interviews and Joyce and Cindy had crunched more data on any discernible billing inconsistencies, she would have what she needed. And, fortunately, she had booked a breakfast meeting the next day with her old hospital administrator friend at Methodist to inquire about the medical directorship.
“Oh, you look so energized.” Diane walked to meet her, having just parked in front of Claire’s. “I wish I could have run with you.”
“Is that code for ‘you look sweaty and should take a quick shower before hugs’?” They laughed as they walked up to Claire’s front door.
Out of the shower, Jess went to the kitchen, where Diane handed her both a bottle of water and a glass of wine.
“Ah, I could get used to this. Will you marry me?” She now hugged Diane. “Such loving affection and service. I hope we’re ordering in. I’ve come empty-handed and assume nobody is cooking, right?”
Just as she finished that thought, Claire swooped in and said, “Oh my God, yes. I ordered Thai food. It should be here in about forty-five minutes. That’s just enough time to get us situated on the porch and PJ into his prebedtime nursing routine. But”—she pivoted to look at Jess—“ah, yes, you look . . .” She hesitated and grinned widely. “You look like you’ve had some lovin’!” Claire whooped and grabbed Jess for a jig step.