“Fine.”
“Lara, before we start to get involved in all this, don’t you think you should decide what your next project is going to be?”
Lara looked up and asked innocently, “Didn’t I tell you? We’re going to buy Manhattan Central Hospital.”
Several days earlier Lara had gone to a hairdresser on Madison Avenue. While she was having her hair done, she had overheard a conversation in the next booth.
“We’re going to miss you, Mrs. Walker.”
“Same here, Darlene. How long have I been coming here?”
“Almost fifteen years.”
“Time certainly flies, doesn’t it? I’m going to miss New York.”
“When will you be leaving?”
“Right away. We just got the closing notice this morning. Imagine—a hospital like Manhattan Central closing down because they’ve run out of cash. I’ve been supervisor there for almost twenty years, and they send me a memo telling me I’m through! You’d think they’d have the decency to do it in person, wouldn’t you? What’s the world coming to?”
Lara was now listening intently.
“I haven’t seen anything about the closing in the papers.”
“No. They’re keeping it quiet. They want to break the news to the employees first.”
Her beautician was in the middle of blow-drying Lara’s hair. Lara started to get up.
“I’m not through yet, Miss Cameron.”
“Never mind,” Lara said, “I’m in a hurry.”
Manhattan Central Hospital was a dilapidated, ugly-looking building located on the East Side, and it took up an entire block. Lara stared at it for a long time, and what she was seeing in her mind was a majestic new skyscraper with chic retail stores on the ground floor and luxury condominiums on the upper floors.
Lara walked into the hospital and asked the name of the corporation that owned it. She was sent to the offices of a Roger Burnham on Wall Street.
“What can I do for you, Miss Cameron?”
“I hear that Manhattan Central Hospital is for sale.”
He looked at her in surprise. “Where did you hear that?”
“Is it true?”
He hedged. “It might be.”
“I might be interested in buying it,” Lara said. “What’s your price?”
“Look, lady…I don’t know you from Adam. You can’t walk in off the street and expect me to discuss a ninety-million-dollar deal with you. I…”
“Ninety million?” Lara had a feeling it was high, but she wanted that site. It would be an exciting beginning. “Is that what we’re talking about?”
“We’re not talking about anything.”
Lara handed Roger Burnham a hundred-dollar bill.
“What’s this for?”
“That’s for a forty-eight-hour option. All I’m asking is forty-eight hours. You weren’t ready to announce that it was for sale anyway. What can you lose? If I meet your asking price, you’ve got what you wanted.”
“I don’t know anything about you.”
“Call the Mercantile Bank in Chicago. Ask for Bob Vance. He’s the president.”
He stared at her for a long moment, shook his head, and muttered something with the word “crazies” in it.
He looked up the telephone number himself. Lara sat there while his secretary got Bob Vance for him.
“Mr. Vance? This is Roger Burnham in New York. I have a Miss…” He looked up at her.
“Lara Cameron.”
“Lara Cameron here. She’s interested in buying a property of ours here, and she says that you know her.”
He sat there listening.
“She is…? I see…Really…? No, I wasn’t aware of that…Right…Right.” After a long time he said, “Thank you very much.”
He replaced the receiver and stared at Lara. “You seem to have made quite an impression in Chicago.”
“I intend to make quite an impression in New York.”
Burnham looked at the hundred-dollar bill. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Buy yourself some Cuban cigars. Do I have the option if I meet your price?”
He sat there, studying her. “It’s a little unorthodox…but yes. I’ll give you forty-eight hours.”
“We have to move fast on this,” Lara had told Keller. “We have forty-eight hours to line up our financing.”
“Do you have any figures on it?”
“Ball park. Ninety million for the property, and I estimate another two hundred million to demolish the hospital and put up the building.”