At exactly nine-thirty on Tuesday morning, eight people walked into the conference room. Charity was ready for them.
Mayor Marsha spoke first, welcoming them to Fool’s Gold and assuring everyone how much the town wanted the new hospital campus. Marsha went over a few of the more important facts—the tax breaks, the incredibly reasonable price of the land, the grants they’d already made progress on.
Marsha and Charity had spent most of the previous day going over what each of them would say, so Charity was prepared for each of Marsha’s points. The mayor finished with a joke about the golf courses in the area, which was Charity’s signal that it was her turn.
From her research she knew that of the eight members on the committee, the real powerhouse was Dr. Daniels. A trauma care doctor used to dealing with impossible situations, he liked to get to the point, make a decision and move on. He considered serving on the committee a waste of his important time, so he wanted the business settled quickly. Charity planned to use that to her advantage.
She passed out folders, then flipped on her computer.
“I know you’re all very busy,” she began. “So I want to first thank you for taking the time to come to Fool’s Gold. My goal is to provide you with the information you need to make the right decision for your hospital expansion.” She paused to smile. “And explain to each of you why Fool’s Gold is the right place at the right time. Not only do we offer excellent housing for your staff, superior schools for your children and a warm and welcoming community filled with qualified workers, we simply want you here more. We’re determined to do whatever is necessary to convince you that this is exactly where your hospital needs to be.”
She began her PowerPoint presentation, clicking through several glossy photos of the area. The real meat of the meeting came next, with plenty of statistics on skilled labor, potential patients and quality-of-life issues. For Dr. Daniels, she threw in a mini sales pitch.
“We’re in desperate need of trauma care,” she said as she clicked to display another graph. “We might not get the gunshot wounds of a gang-infested city, but we have other issues. Skiing and hiking accidents on the mountains, car accidents, especially during winter and tourist seasons. Last year three rock climbers fell. Two died before they could reach the trauma center in San Francisco. If we’d had our own trauma center, those two young men would still be alive today.”
She moved on to the number of births per year, illustrating the need for a new maternity center. By noon she’d gone through all the details she and Marsha had decided were necessary.
“If you’ll come with me, we have lunch set up downstairs,” she said, motioning to the door. “At one o’clock, we’ll take you on a tour of the area and have you on the road by two, as you requested.”
Everyone rose and started out of the room. Dr. Daniels, a handsome man in his mid forties, paused. “You listened. We told each of the towns we wanted to be done by two. One of the other places kept us until five, the other got us out at four-thirty.”
Charity shrugged. “A partnership has to go both ways. Of course there’s more I want you to see and hear, but I respect your time. We have a lot to offer, Dr. Daniels. I hope you’ll give us the opportunity to show you that.”
“I see that. An excellent presentation. I’m impressed.”
“Then I did my job.”
JOSH LEFT THE HOTEL a little after seven in the evening. It was early for him to go riding, what with the days getting longer, but he was restless. Normally he enjoyed his quarters at the hotel, but lately they’d felt confining. He could always move into one of the houses he owned. At any given time one of the rentals was usually available. But what would he do in a house all on his own?
He walked through the center of town, then stopped across the street from Jo’s Bar. The place had been there for years. There had been a dozen or so owners in the past decade. The location worked but the owners never seemed to make a go of it. Then three years ago Josephine Torrelli had shown up and bought the place. She’d hired a crew of construction guys, demolished the place down to the beams and built it up to look like a quiet, welcoming neighborhood bar that catered primarily to women. There were a couple of big TVs showing reality TV and home shopping for the largely female crowd. All the guys got were a couple of TVs over the long bar and well-priced beer.