Page 10 of Yours to Keep

“You don’t run your business by having meaningful discussions with people who know more about the industry than you?”

“Your industry,” I corrected the slight, but crucial mistake she’d made. “You know more about your industry, but in mine, no one knows more than me and I’ve crunched the numbers, Ms. Bennett. That’s how I run my business. I plan. I project. Those gowns will save us money. That money allows us to redo the fifth floor, upgrade equipment, and ultimately, help more people. They’re staying.”

“They won’t save as much as they’ll lose if patients start writing reviews about them.”

“They’re perfectly fine, better quality than is used in most other hospitals similar to this one and much cheaper than the cloth type. Those require thorough and constant cleaning and their base cost is much higher.”

“Are you sure you don’t want the cannoli? Some sugar might make the medicine go down easier.”

My eyes narrowed. “Keep the fucking cannoli. I don’t want it. No amount of sugar is going to make the other gowns cheaper or these less effective. Those are the facts.”

Her arms crossed, her gaze sharpening as her spine straightened, her chin lifting just a little bit higher. Whatever else Liana had advised her to do before she’d come in here, she’d clearly abandoned all pretense and niceties now.

“You don’t know a damn thing about running a hospital with living, breathing people in it.”

Despite myself, I leaned forward slightly. “Don’t I?”

“What makes sense on a spreadsheet doesn’t work when it’s someone’s mom, or uncle, or grandmother who’s up all night in their hospital bed, unable to sleep because you wanted to save a few pennies.” Her tone was cutting but measured, like she was both scolding and pleading at the same time. “Every patient in every bed is a real person who’s paying good money to be here. They don’t come for a vacation or just to take a quick break from their lives. They’re here because they’re sick, already not feeling well, and you want them clothed in crinkle paper for the duration of their stay.”

“Those gowns⁠—”

“Suck.”

“—are perfectly acceptable,” I said as if she hadn’t tried to cut me off. “Comfort cannot trump efficiency or innovation.”

“Comfort is what keeps people coming back and referring us to others. Comfort helps sick people get better.”

“This is not a hotel, Ms. Bennett. What will keep patients coming back is an excellent standard of care and cutting-edge treatments.”

“Wow, you really are a soulless robot, aren’t you? I honestly don’t think you understand the cost of your efficiency in human terms. We’re not asking for hot tubs and water slides. Patients have a right to dignity and these gowns stomp all over that.”

I looked back at her. She wasn’t trying to be sweet or playing nice. She wasn’t pretending to like me. She was furious, and in the middle of my meticulously calculated world, she was a variable I hadn’t accounted for.

A challenge.

Yep. Can’t be mad about that.

As her words hung in the air between us, I couldn’t deny that I was intrigued. She was fire and I was steel, but no matter how hot she burned, she still wasn’t going to get through me.

“The soullessness is what allows me to have vision,” I said finally, unbothered by the accusation. In comparison to other things I’d been called, soulless was almost kind. “I don’t get bogged down by the irrelevant details.”

“Patient care is an irrelevant detail? Tell me, do you have figures in your heart where the empathy was supposed to go?”

“Yes, I do, but those numbers save lives. Empathy does nothing but slow a person down.”

“Every patient who’s up all night because you decided the cheap, scratchy paper gown was worth it is going to hate you forever. That’s not to mention every person who works here, who’s going to have explain to that patient why they can’t have a proper gown.”

“I’m not trying to be loved,” I said evenly. “I’m trying to be efficient.”

“That might be what you’re trying to do, but the only thing you’re achieving is to alienate the very people you need to keep this place running.”

“Your reasoning is emotional and illogical, Ms. Bennett.” I arched an eyebrow at her. “No one is suggesting the patients walk around naked. Their dignity will remain very much intact, and with it, they’ll receive the very best treatment that modern medicine has to offer. If anyone is alienated by that, my advice would be for them to seek mental help or perhaps another career path. This is about healing, is it not?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” I said crisply. “When life-saving technology is on the line, no one should care about what they’re wearing. As long as they are wearing something, I suppose. Although, if it was me and I had a choice between being utterly bare and receiving the best treatment out there, or being clothed in the finest robe in the world but being left with outdated technology, I know what I would choose.”

“Your life-saving technology won’t help those of us who are on the ground at night, trying to comfort people who can’t sleep because in addition to being gravely ill or in pain, their gowns are scratching the hell out of them.”