“So, let me get this straight,” Mike says. “You think we can reduce the impact of this deal on the people on the other side, with only a small reduction in our profit?”

“Sure.” I nod. “I’m not saying it’s going to be easy to reduce the collateral damage in the market, but we’ve got the right kind of knowledge to do so. Just look at the stuff in the summary, and then we can talk through it in detail.” I push a stapled sheet of paper toward him. “There are copies for everyone here.”

Leafing through it, Mike gives a low whistle. “This is impressive stuff, Ronnie. When did you come up with this?”

“Last night when I was talking to…uh, last night. I’d talked to Tom about it, uh, before that, in some detail.” I keep talking quickly, and hope no-one notices how awkward that sounds. “So it’s as much his idea as mine.”

Mike grunts. “Yeah, I’d figured the great Tom MacWizardy had something to do with it. It looks like the kind of nutty idea that he’d be involved in, which somehow turns out to be genius that no-one else has thought of. That said, it has an extra helping of common sense, which I can only put down to your influence.” He beams. “Well done, Ronnie. I think you are becoming a stabilizing influence on our great leader.”

I try to hide my smile. I don’t think you’d say that if you knew what we were doing last night. “Thanks, Mike. I guess. I don’t want to take too much of the credit.”

“No, really. This is really excellent. We’re lucky to have got you, Ronnie. Those Global Finance bastards would wet themselves to get trainees as clever as you. Now, all that has to happen is that Tom has to sell this to the board.”

“Do you think he can do it?” A sudden fear strikes me. What if they say no?

Mike shrugs. “Well, they’re not going to like the idea of making less money than they can, but if anyone can convince them, it’s Tom, and he sure as hell wants to. Since you’ve been here, he’s started talking more about making sure we contribute to the community.” He looks sideways at me. “Ronnie, I think you may be responsible for our mighty leader developing a conscience. Any idea how that happened?”

Uh-oh. My phone rings, and I glance down at it, glad to be able to avoid that line of questioning. “Sorry, guys, it’s my mother; I’d better take this.” I raise my voice. “If everyone’s got a copy of the summary, can I leave you to read it for a bit? I’ll be back shortly.”

Stepping outside, I put my phone up to my ear. “Momma?”

“Ronnie, it’s your father.” Oh no. Please, no. “He’s in the hospital.”

“What happened?” I get a cold feeling in my chest.

“I don’t know. I came home and found him on the floor. He was fine this morning. I don’t know, Ronnie, I don’t know. I shouldn’t have left him. I—”.

“Momma. Stop. It’s okay.” I fight to put more calm in my own voice than I feel. “Give me the hospital details, and I’ll go there right away.”

* * *

No matter how new they are, hospitals always have a feeling of weariness for me. I don’t know if everyone feels the same, but there’s a sense that so much has happened there, so much life and death, so many emotions, that you can’t help but be tired.

“Ms. Haas?” I crouch on the edge of a chair, staring at the vinyl finish on the ward desk.

“Y-yes?” One of the doctors is in front of me, clip-on tie, stethoscope, carefully-casual shirt designed to make him seem authoritative and yet approachable.

“Your father is in the ICU. He’s stable, but he’ll need to stay here under observation for a while yet.”

“Do you know what happened to him?”

“It looks like he had a release of fluid into the pleural cavity next to his lung. This means that he couldn’t breathe, and that’s why he passed out. We’ve drained the fluid, and he’s breathing normally again. It was lucky your mother found him when she did; he needed immediate attention, and if she hadn’t been there, things would be a lot more serious.”

I exhale a breath I realize I’ve been holding for some time. “What happens now?”

The doctor looks at me. “We have to wait to find out if the fluid is going to come back, which is why he has to stay in hospital. If it comes back it, it could mean that it’s being caused by something. We won’t know what until we wait and do some more tests.”

I stand up, and then sit back down again. “How long will it take?”

“We don’t know. We have to wait.”

“Can I see him?”

He nods. “Sure, he’s awake, although he’s quite tired. It’s just through there.”

* * *

I tiptoe through the darkened ICU. Intensive care always has a hush about it, like being in church, an atmosphere of quiet, focused activity, and people constantly being on watch, like tending the candles and making sure they stay lit. My father is a bed at the far end of the room; he’s without tubes, or bottles, or needles, or any of the other things that are draped over the other patients like awful Christmas decorations, but he looks smaller than usual.

I approach him slowly. “Hello, Poppa.”

“Ronnie! It’s good to see you, honey.” He looks up and smiles, and for a moment he’s my father again as I now him. He looks terribly tired, and the skin around his eyes is cracked and yellowed. Seeing my face, he reaches out a hand to touch me. “Don’t worry, honey. I know I look like crap, but I’m feeling okay, honestly. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? Oh, Poppa.” I sit on the bed next to him, and try to find something to say. “Are you bored in here? What are you doing?”

“Mmmph. I’ve got my book of crosswords, and books to read.” He looks around, grimacing. “The other guests aren’t so talkative, but that’s maybe not such a bad thing. I’ve been sleeping a lot.”

I force myself to look at him, even though I can feel tears pricking my eyes. “We were really worried about you. Momma is beside herself.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” His face is serious for a minute. “Look, Ronnie. You need to do something for me, okay? You need to get home and keep your mother occupied. Don’t let her worry about me day and night, okay? It won’t do any damn good for me, and it’ll just make her ill herself.”

“I’ll try. But you know she doesn’t always listen to me.”

He snorts. “No, I know. Just keep on telling her about your job, or something like that. You’ll find plenty of things to talk to her about.” His face quirks. “You could manufacture a crisis for her to fix?”

I have to giggle, despite the setting. “Thanks, Poppa. Great advice. Manufacture a crisis. Fantastic. I could always count on you for practical solutions to problems.”

“Hey, it’s always worked for me. Don’t knock it, huh?” He shifts on his pile of pillows, and looks contemplative for a moment. “You know, I didn’t get a chance to say this before, so I should say it now: don’t you ever forget how proud I am of you for doing this job. I always knew you would find something that fits your talents.”

I blink back tears again. I can’t tell him about it now. I can’t.

He holds my hand tighter. “Whatever you do, Ronnie, your mother and I will always be proud of you. We did okay, her and I, raising a beautiful, talented, warm-hearted girl like you.” He starts to cough, a rasping sound which echoes around the room.

There’s a nurse beside me. “Your father needs to sleep some more. You can come back tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, just a minute.” Leaning over I kiss my father on the forehead. He can’t talk, but he looks up at me and nods. One hand comes from beneath his blankets and gives me a thumbs-up gesture. As I walk out, I try to make sure no-one sees my eyes.