“Depends on the decision.”
“But somebody approves the budgets.”
“Of course.”
“Well, who?”
My brother took a sip of water.
“At Crestwood, departmental proposals go through the hospital leadership and then the network’s administrative review. The larger operating budgets need executive approval.”
Clark frowned.
“Executive approval from whom?”
Sterling set his glass down.
“Summit Care’s chief administrative officer.”
I stopped eating.
He continued.
“The man oversees operations for Crestwood, Northgate, and Oak Creek General. He’s been leading the network’s restructuring and resource planning for several years.”
I looked toward Grandpa Bernie.
He was watching Sterling with quiet interest.
Clark leaned forward.
“What’s the executive’s name?”
Sterling thought for a moment.
“I mostly see the name on budget approvals. The staff usually refers to him as M. E. Voss.”
My fork rested against my plate.
Sterling continued.
“I heard his full name at a leadership meeting last month.”
He paused.
“Marshall Ellis Voss.”
The table became quiet.
Aunt Miriam turned toward me.
My father looked up.
Grandpa Bernie slowly set down his coffee cup.
Sterling was still speaking.
“He signs off on the network’s major operating plans and works with the hospital presidents on department funding. If your budget proposal goes to the executive office, his team is usually reviewing it.”
Then he stopped.
His eyes moved toward me.
I looked back at him.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Sterling frowned.
“Wait.”
My mother laughed lightly.
“Oh, that’s funny. Another Marshall Voss.”
Nobody joined her.
Sterling stared at me.
“Marshall.”
“Yes?”
His voice became quieter.
“What’s your middle name?”
I looked at him.
“You know my middle name, Sterling.”
He swallowed.
“Ellis.”
I nodded.
Across the table, Aunt Miriam put down her fork.
Uncle Clark looked between us.
My mother was still smiling, though the expression had begun to look uncertain.
“Well, surely there are other people with the same name.”
Sterling didn’t look at her.
He kept his eyes on me.
“You’re the chief administrative officer?”
I took a breath.
“Yes.”
The silence that followed wasn’t dramatic.
Nobody stood.
Nobody made an announcement.
The refrigerator hummed faintly from the kitchen.
Somewhere in the next room, a holiday song continued playing softly.
My brother looked as though he were mentally reviewing every budget document he’d handled over the previous three years.
“You approve the Crestwood operating plans?”
“Along with the network’s financial and clinical leadership, yes.”
He blinked.
“The capital equipment review?”
“My office coordinates it.”
“The staffing proposals?”
“Those go through the same process.”
He looked down at his plate.
Then back at me.
“You work at the network executive office.”
“Yes.”
My mother finally spoke.
“Marshall, what exactly is going on?”
I turned toward her.
“I’m telling Sterling what I do for a living.”
She frowned.
“But you said you worked in administration.”
“I do.”
“At a hospital.”
“At Summit Care Network. I oversee operations across three hospitals.”
Her expression changed.
For the first time all evening, she seemed uncertain how to respond.
Sterling leaned forward.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I considered the question.
“Sterling, I’ve told you for years that I work in hospital operations.”