Free The Boss's Proposal by Kristin Hardy

rate, all the studies support that. If we want Portland General to be a center of excellence, support programs have to be a part of it.”
    Max put her pen down. “What about something like a meditation garden?”
    â€œAbsolutely. I mean, I know not everyone is going to be well enough to go out there but even if they could just look, that would be something. Maybe family members or staffers could help them go out.”
    â€œFamily support is important, isn’t it?” Max asked. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dylan straighten.
    â€œIt makes a huge difference, especially when patients are really ill. And the family members go the distance. Some of them spend practically every waking hour here, for days at a time. I don’t know how they do it, quite frankly. I mean, all we’ve got is a twelve-by-twelve waiting area and I swear the chairs are out of a torture chamber. We need some thing better for these people.”
    Bingo, Max thought. “What would you say to having a few rooms where family could stay in urgent-care situations?”
    Harding’s eyes lit up. “That’s exactly the kind of thing I mean. It’s a whole new level of patient care.”
    â€œI thought I saw something about that in one of theearlier proposals, now that you mention it,” Fischer said. “How hard would that be to do?”
    â€œAnd how expensive?” The CFO’s voice was dry.
    â€œIt’s a matter of trade-offs,” Max replied, warming to her topic. “You set your priorities and our job is to make it happen.”
    â€œVery good.” Fisher glanced at his watch. “I see we’re just about out of time. I think we’ve gone through all of our concerns. Are there any questions that either of you have for us?”
    â€œWell, I—” Max began.
    â€œNo questions,” Dylan cut in, rolling back his chair as Fischer adjourned the meeting. “But someone’s sure as hell got some explaining to do,” he added under his breath.
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    â€œI don’t know what you’re so upset about,” Max said, hurrying through the lobby after Dylan.
    â€œYou’ve got to be kidding.” He stalked out of the medical center’s front doors, those long strides of his eating up ground. Outside, the day was gorgeous, sunny and clear—in direct contrast to Dylan’s thunderous expression.
    â€œYou’re the one who was talking about designing for the client. One of the clients had concerns that we could address. I thought it made sense to throw out some ideas, particularly ones they had already seen and liked.”
    He rounded on her so abruptly that she almostcollided with him. “Don’t you ever go against my direction in a client meeting again, do you understand me?” He stared at her a moment, expression tight with anger, then turned and strode away, leaving Max to chase after him.
    â€œIt’s not like we were in the actual proposal presentation. I didn’t contradict anything you said and I never promised anything.”
    â€œYour family suites are not happening.” He bit off the words one at a time. “I already told you, we don’t have room.”
    â€œAnd I told you they were on the preliminary proposal that got us onto the short list,” Max retorted, weaving through the parking lot in his wake. “Clearly, Fischer saw it or he wouldn’t have remembered today. Anyway, I told them it was a matter of trade-offs and prioritizing.”
    â€œTrade-offs?” Dylan gave a bark of laughter. “Trade-offs are our problem, not theirs. As far as the client is concerned, our job is to give them what they want, period. They don’t care how. The minute you show them an idea they like, it’s in their head for good, and if our proposal doesn’t have it, you can bet they’ll go looking for one that does. And you ought to know that.” He gave her a scathing look.