Claws and Effect by Rita Mae Brown Page B

jest. “I can’t even understand the one Hayden and I have for the practice.”
    â€œI believe Ned Tucker will help us there.” Herb watched as both Cazenovia and Elocution paraded into the room. “Harry?”
    â€œI’ll call him.” She volunteered to ring up Susan’s husband, a man well liked by all except those who crossed him in court.
    â€œBruce and I have spoken about this,” Tussie joined in, “and—there’s no way to delicately put this. Jordan Ivanic fears poor patients will steal—not just drugs, mind you, which would be most people’s first thought, oh no, he thinks they’ll steal toilet paper, pencils, you name it.”
    â€œHe said that?” Harry was upset.
    Cazzie jumped in her lap, which made her feel better. Elocution headed straight for Herb.
    â€œYes. Flat out said it.” Tussie tapped her foot on the floor.
    â€œMy experience is the biggest thieves are the rich.” Bruce rubbed his chin, perceived the frown on Little Mim’s face, and hastened to add, “Think of Mike Milken, all those Wall Street traders.”
    â€œWell, I think I’d better call upon Sam and Jordan.” Herb petted his youngest cat, who purred loudly.
    â€œMeow.”
Elocution closed her eyes.
    Bruce said, “I’ve been able to secure the cooperation of at least one physician in each department. Our problem now is convincing Sam Mahanes to use a portion of the hospital, even a room, to initially screen these people.
    â€œHe did voice one other small concern.” Bruce’s voice was filled with sarcasm. “And that is the paying patients. He didn’t feel they should be around the charity cases. It would engender hard feelings. You know, they’re paying and these people aren’t. So he said if we could find space and if we could solve the liability problem, where are we going to put people so they wouldn’t be visible?”
    â€œAh.” Herb exhaled.
    Miranda shifted in her seat, looked down at the floor, took a deep breath, then looked at the group. “Bruce, you weren’t born and raised here so I don’t expect you to know this but sequestering or separating the poor gets us awfully close to segregation. In the old days the waiting rooms in the back were always for colored people. That was the proper and polite term then, and I tell you no white person ever went through the back door and vice versa. It brings back an uneasy feeling for me and I expect it does for those of us in this room old enough to remember. The other problem is that a goodly number of our people are African-American or Scotch-Irish. Those seem to be the two primary ethnic groups that we serve and I couldn’t tell you why. Anyway, I think Sam needs to be—” She looked at Herb and shrugged.
    â€œI know.” Herb read her perfectly. After all, Sam was a Virginian and should know better, but one of the problems with Virginians was that many of them longed for a return to the time of Thomas Jefferson. Of course, none of them ever imagined themselves as slaves or poor white indentured servants. They always thought of themselves as the masters on the hill.
    The group continued their progress reports and then adjourned for tea, coffee, and Miranda’s baked goods.
    BoomBoom walked over to Harry. “I’m glad we’re working together.”
    â€œIt’s a good cause.” Harry knew BoomBoom wanted to heal the wounds and she admitted to herself that BoomBoom was right, although every now and then Harry’s mean streak would kick up and she wanted to make Boom squirm.
    â€œAre you going to work on Little Mim’s campaign?”
    â€œUh—I don’t know but I know I can’t sit in the middle. I mean, I think Jim’s a good mayor.” She grabbed another biscuit. “What about you?”
    â€œI’m going to do it. Work for Little Mim. She’s right when she says our