Fertility: A Novel (37 page)

Eva broke the ice. “Joe, come and meet Rick. Imagine. We have our very own pediatrician to consult with now!” Eva exulted. “How lucky can a baby be — to have a father who’s an expert in childhood medicine?”

Rick stood up and gave Sarah’s father a firm handshake. He was taken by how much the woman he loved looked like the man in front of him. “Very nice to meet you, Mr. Abadhi. I would have to say that you and Sarah share a strong likeness. Those must be powerful genes, because Anna looks like she’s going to fall right in line with the two of you,” Rick said, doing his best to chat up Sarah’s father.

“Yes, and my mother — the first Anna Abadhi — shared our facial features as well. Perhaps you’re right. Powerful genes, indeed,” Joseph said, trying his best to be agreeable, though unaware of any scientific basis for the idea.

“However, it seems as though Anna’s grandmothers won the day on her coloring. My mother, as well as Eva — and I guess Sarah’s grandma — have passed on their blond hair and blue eyes. Lucky Anna,” Rick said, trying to keep things light. “She’s a beautiful baby.”

“Rick, did you know that my father works in regenerative medicine?” Sarah interjected, hoping to help the conversation along. “You know, using stem cells to regenerate organs?”

Rick felt like a five-hundred-pound weight had been lifted off his back. Making pleasant conversation with a guy in sales or finance would have been tough sledding. But regenerative medicine, well, that was something else entirely. And, of course, it offered an alternative to the uncomfortable subject of where he’d been until now.

“No, I didn’t know that. I would really enjoy learning about your work. Right now I have a young patient whose kidneys are beyond repair. If we manage to get her through this crisis, dialysis will be the only way to keep her alive. She’ll be tethered to a machine for years. If she’s extremely lucky, someday she may get a transplant. But if we could teach her body to regrow a kidney, now that would be the ticket.”

“That objective drives our research,” Joseph said. “We’re actually working on liver regeneration, but we hope that if we’re successful, our research will be applicable to other tissues and organs.”

“That’s got to be so exciting,” Rick said in earnest. “You’re on the cutting edge of medicine. I enjoy patient contact, so my bent is toward clinical, but if I were to lean toward research, your field would be hard to beat.”

If there was something that matched Joseph’s passion for his family, it was love for his work. Rick’s enthusiasm for his research provided a channel in which the two men could move while each took the measure of the other. It didn’t take either man long to figure out he was dealing with a person of substance. Under other circumstances, they would have instantly taken a liking to one another. However, given the reality that they neither knew nor trusted the other’s intentions, the jury was out on whether they would ultimately find a way to get along.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

About a week into the rehab regime, Sarah, Eva and a social worker met to discuss where Sarah should go after discharge. Sarah’s vote was to go home, but there were obstacles — namely, she lived alone and had two flights of stairs to negotiate. Her parents’ house was more accessible, and, of course, help would be readily available. Given her newfound grit, Sarah knew that if the decision didn’t go her way, she would swallow hard and do what needed to be done.

During her lunch break, she was trying to tamp down her excitement about the prospect of leaving the hospital when the phone rang. She reached it on the seventh ring.

“Hello, Sarah, is that you?”

“Harry, how nice to hear your voice.”

“How’re you doing today? The operator told me you moved to another room.”

“That’s right. I’m in rehab now and they’re trying to kill me. But if I live, they say I’ll be as strong as an ox.”

“Tough therapy?”

“The understatement of the year.”

“You can handle it, Sarah. Remember, you’re the health care group’s premier marathon runner.”

“Actually, it’s hard to remember. But I have to tell you, rehab is harder than running a marathon.”

“Never having done either, I’ll take your word for it. Hey, I wanted to tell you that I spoke with Grant Salbago from the San Francisco office — the guy I told you about who specializes in construction law.”

“Oh, thank you, Harry. I really appreciate it.”

“It was no big deal. The good news is he’s agreed to watch my back, albeit at a distance, if we decide to negotiate a settlement with Arkin.”

“That’s good. I know you think a lot of him.”

“I do. Now the question is, do you feel up to having a preliminary meeting with Arkin and his lawyer? He’s apparently champing at the bit to get the settlement show on the road.”

The thought of meeting with Mark Arkin unnerved her. Before the accident, she had always done her homework before entering into negotiations. Appearing cool and self-possessed was indispensable, and her extensive preparation had given her the mojo she needed. But now that would be tough to pull off.

“When does he want to meet?”

“Later today or tomorrow.”

“So soon?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah, it seems he’s a man in a hurry. Too soon for you?”

“I’m just afraid I’ll sound tentative. I’m not quite myself.”

“If that’s your reason for demurring, forget it. I’ll handle the negotiations. You can just sit there and look not quite like yourself — which is the whole point, after all.”

“Okay. If you think you’re ready, I’ll follow your lead.”

“Good. I’ll get back to you with the where and when as soon as it’s nailed down.”

“Oh, if I’m not here when you call, you can call my mother’s cell and she’ll relay the information to me.” She gave Harry her mother’s number before saying good-bye.

After lunch, Sarah had trouble concentrating on her therapy. She did all the painful exercises, but kept thinking about how changed she was from the time she had last met with Mark Arkin. She remembered she had been nervous that day — nervous, but also ready. How different this meeting would be.

Eva arrived at two with the baby, in time for Sarah’s afternoon break. She put Anna in Sarah’s arms and then handed her the message she’d taken from Harry. It read, “They’ll be at the hospital at five o’clock. I’ll arrange a conference room for the meeting. Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered.”

“I guess it’s going to happen today after all,” Sarah muttered.

“What is Harry referring to, honey? He can’t be asking you to work, can he? It’s much too soon for that, sweetheart.”

“Oh no. Harry’s not inviting me to a work meeting. This is about a proposed settlement for my injuries. The developer wants to meet with me — but it’s completely confidential, so mum’s the word,” she said, glad her roommate had gone home that morning.

“How about Dad?”

“Well, of course Dad’s okay, but let’s keep this to ourselves. I’m not even sure what I should ask for. I’m going to have to rely on Harry to represent my interests,” Sarah said.

“Harry’s been wonderful to you. Don’t you think he’ll do a good job?” Eva asked.

“I know he’ll do his best,” Sarah said. “He’s conferring with someone from our firm who specializes in construction law. Together I think they’ll be able to offer me good counsel.”

“Who was the developer, Sarah?”

“Mark Arkin.”

Eva grimaced. “Arkin? That blowhard? I never could stand that man. He’s always trumpeting his wealth and power. He’s so coarse, so blinded by that enormous ego of his, a real
k’naker
. If he was Joe Blow, no one would listen to a word he says. But in this country, where money justifies everything from bad manners to high crimes and misdemeanors, he’s a
macher
.

You’d better keep the bastard away from me, after what happened to you and the baby. If I lay eyes on him, I’ll tell him what he can do with himself and his luxury condo towers.”

Sarah had never seen her mother so irate. It was true that Arkin provoked strong feelings from almost everyone in the city — either admiration for a guy who’d built a fortune from nothing, or contempt for his drive to win at all costs. As for Sarah, she felt strangely neutral about him.

“Mom, did you know I settled a case with Arkin about a year ago? It worked out well for all parties. When he found out I was among the injured, he called Harry and told him that he was favorably impressed with me and that he wanted to make things right. I guess that’s the alleged motivation for the meeting this afternoon.”

“No, I didn’t know. You’ve always kept your work to yourself.” Eva took a breath and began to build up some steam. “And as for him being favorably impressed with you, he’d be a fool not to be. You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman, a top-notch attorney and a new mother who nearly lost her life to his ‘development project.’ He’d better come up with something that can begin to make amends for the harm he’s done you,” Eva seethed.

“Well, Mom, we’ll find out in a few hours just what he has in mind.”

* * *

At a quarter past four, when Sarah’s hour-long lesson on the care and cleaning of external fixator pin sites was done, she inched her way back to her room, determined to get herself together for the meeting. In terms of clothes, there were few choices. With the bulky metal apparatus on her leg, pants were out of the question. The only clothes that fit since she had delivered Anna were the maternity dresses that Eva had brought to rehab. She selected a black jumper and a gray turtleneck, borrowed some lipstick from her mother and ran her fingers through her hair. When Harry appeared at ten before five, Sarah felt presentable.

“Mrs. Abadhi! It’s a pleasure to see you again, especially with Sarah doing so much better,” Harry schmoozed.

“Yes, I agree on both counts. Sarah filled me in on your meeting. Would you prefer that Anna and I leave while you talk?”

Harry looked at Sarah for guidance.

“It’s okay if you stay, Mom. Just remember what I said about loose lips.”

“Of course, darling. Consider my lips hermetically sealed.” Eva pantomimed the locking of her lips and then turned her attention to Anna, who was working herself up into a lusty howl after losing her pacifier.

Harry proceeded with the outlines of his game plan. “Sarah, I think our best strategy is to let them talk — you know, hear them out. We don’t have to agree to anything today. You can think about whatever it is they offer, and I can pass it by Grant. We can make a counter offer sometime next week or the week after, if you prefer.”

“Given the state of my legal wits, listening sounds about right.”

“So we’ll just hear what they have to say and keep our cards close to the chest. We’ll look clever and shrewd instead of indecisive. By the way, John Mess, our friend in Risk Management, was nice enough to offer us his conference room, but the more I thought about it, the more I figured it might be smart to meet right here in the rehab wing. Let them see where you’ve been spending your days.”

“Whatever you think, Harry.”

“I think it’s best we use the doctors’ consulting room near the end of the corridor. Would you like me to get a wheelchair and wheel you over?” Harry asked.

“Better not. My therapists wouldn’t look favorably on me catching a ride. I’ll use the walker, but Arkin and his attorney may have to cool their jets while I get there. Speed is not yet in my repertoire.”

“All right, then. If you’re ready, let’s head out. Just remember, Sarah, all you have to do is listen. If you want to look pitiful, you can play that card, too. It’s up to you.”

“Pitiful? That won’t be much of a stretch, Harry,” Sarah said with a wry smile. “Consider me one of the walking wounded that keeps the staff here fully employed.”

“Fair enough. Walking wounded it will be, then.”

As they left for the meeting, Eva called out in a stage whisper, “Give ’em hell.”

* * *

When Sarah and Harry entered the small, windowless consulting room, they had a surprise awaiting them. Catherine Malloy-Arkin sat beside her husband and his attorney, Larry Heidigger, general counsel of Mark Arkin’s development firm. Sarah hardly recognized Catherine. The last time they’d met, the thirty-something new mother had looked strained and exhausted. Now Sarah couldn’t help but stare at the pretty woman who seemed to embody an effortless grace. The contrast between her and her husband was striking. Despite the Armani suit and expensive cut to his graying, wooly hair, Mark still had the look of a scrappy street fighter. When they saw Sarah struggle to enter the room, both of the Arkins got up from their seats, and their attorney followed suit. As she approached the table they each extended a hand to her. Sarah accepted their greeting and then carefully lowered her body into an armchair.

Heidigger, an overweight, bespectacled man in his fifties, wasted no time launching into his presentation. “Thank you for meeting with us. I want to take this opportunity to bring you up-to-date on the findings of the initial investigation into the construction accident that occurred at the site of the Arkin Worldwide project. The city hired an independent engineering company to analyze the accident. I have a copy of the report for you,” he said as he handed Sarah and Harry the analysis done by C.R. Wilson Consulting Engineers PC.

The attorney continued, “It appears that culpability lay with the crane subcontractor in charge of the rigging who, unbeknownst to Mr. Arkin, hatched a plan to — shall we say — improve his profit margin by doing the job on the cheap. He knowingly and willfully disregarded common industry practice in what is known as ‘jumping the crane,’ extending its height as the construction proceeded. He used half the usual and customary supports for the crane-jumping procedure, four instead of eight, and one of the four supports — a polyester sling — was frayed. The crane’s manufacturer recommended the use of eight chain blocks instead of polyester slings, advice the subcontractor disregarded.

“Apparently there is also some evidence that the subcontractor paid off the city inspector to look the other way while he cut corners on the job site. It appears that the inspector falsely reported inspecting the crane just days before the accident. There’s an understandable hue and cry for heads to roll in the city building department, and there’s pressure mounting for the building commissioner to resign, given the fact that this is just the latest in a series of construction mishaps in the last year. The upshot of all this negligence and malfeasance was a lack of the required number of supports and a resulting catastrophic failure of the crane at the site of our project. These are preliminary findings, of course, but they not only infuriate my client, they clear him entirely of culpability in the unfortunate incident.”