Recessional: A Novel Read Free Page B

ownership interest.”
    “Now, why do you use that word
retain
? I didn’t say
retain
.”
    “I suppose you either build the installation or supervise it, then pass the ownership off to the local investors.”
    “You catch on, Doctor, but the headaches keep us awake at night. Black means that regardless of who owns the installation, it shows a good profit. Blue means it’s paying its way but not handsomely and often just barely. Red, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, means an actual loss at the end of the month and maybe even the quarter.”
    “You do have some reds, but they’re safely scattered.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “Reassuring. It means an entire area isn’t in trouble. Only the poorly run job.”
    The governing master of Taggart Enterprises—which was worth a total of about three hundred and fifty million—now seemed to lose interest in the statistics of his empire; his real concern was with the intellectual aspects of his vast operation and, more specifically, the functioning of each individual unit. Lowering his voice as if what he was about to say cut to the heart of a possible Taggart-Zorn partnership, he took from another part of the table three wooden blocks of descending size. Pushing the biggest in front of Zorn he said: “Everything up to now has been pleasantry. Now we come down to reality. Each of our centers consists of three vital parts, each as important as the other two. Your job is to keep the three segments in balance, because only then do we make any profits.”
    Tapping the biggest block, he said: “This big one looks to be the heart of our effort. It represents the big building in which ordinary people in good health have retired for traditional retirement living. One solid meal a day, or perhaps two or three according to which plan they’ve chosen. Expensive but a bargain because it’s assured and orderly. Costs out to the resident at about twenty-two thousand a year after their buy-in. This next block, somewhat smaller, is the Assisted Living center, available for when you break a leg, or need an operation, or require care in dressing and feeding yourself. Maybe two thousand dollars a month.” Pushing the middle block toward Zorn, he said: “This is the one that will give you trouble. How to keep it filled? A very difficult task, because we’ve legally promised the people in the big building that they are assured entrance to Assisted Living whenever needed. So you must keep eight or ten beds constantly available for our own people. But then you must fill the remainder with sick people we bring in off the street—at a good profit—and sometimes for protracted stays.” Tapping the middle block, he asked: “Do you appreciate what I’m saying? Managing Assisted Living is a juggling act that some of our managers handle magnificently. I’m considering hiring you to manage the Palms, our flagship, a handsome center in Tampa, Florida, because I have reason to believe that you’re bright enough to manage this Assisted Living block and help us show a profit.”
    Almost offhandedly he shoved the smallest block into position and dismissed it quickly: “Extended Care, where an extraordinary mix of dying people come or are brought by their families to endtheir lives in decency and with whatever relief from pain we can provide.”
    “A hospice?” Zorn asked and Taggart frowned: “We never use that word, or allow anyone associated with the center to use it. It’s ugly, frightening and reeks of death.”
    “I judge from the way you’ve been speaking that you find it fairly easy to keep it filled.”
    “Yes. It provides a crucial service. Sick people need it. Families need it. It earns us real money.”
    Grasping the three blocks, he formed them into an orderly unit and said: “Your three blocks must work together, but they are in a sense separate. Of a hundred normal people living in the retirement area, a few will move to Assisted Living, and of these a few will