The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
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operating room if it’s put to them right. Hell, how many surgeons as good as you can 
they get to come out to this desert? Or any half as good? We’ll be doing the hospital a 
favor. So stick around. I hear you and Lucy are going to get married?” 
Jules shrugged. “When I see that I have any future.” 
Lucy said wryly, “Mike, if you don’t build that hospital, I’ll die an old maid.” 
They all laughed. All except Jules. He said to Michael, “If I took a job like that there 
couldn’t be any strings attached.” 
Michael said coldly, “No strings. I just owe you and I want to even out.” 
Lucy said gently, “Mike, don’t get sore.” 
Michael smiled at her. “I’m not sore.” He turned to Jules. “That was a dumb thing for you 
to say. The Corleone Family has pulled some strings for you. Do you think I’m so stupid 
I’d ask you to do things you’d hate to do? But if I did, so what? Who the hell else ever 
lifted a finger to help you when you were in trouble? When I heard you wanted to get 
back to being a real surgeon, I took a lot of time to find out if I could help. I can. I’m not 
asking you for anything. But at least you can consider our relationship friendly, and I 
assume you would do for me what you’d do for any good friend. That’s my string. But 
you can refuse it.” 
Tom Hagen lowered his head and smiled. Not even the Don himself could have done it 
any better. 
Jules was flushing. “Mike, I didn’t mean it that way at all. I’m very grateful to you and 
your father. Forget I said it.” 
Michael nodded and said, “Fine. Until the hospital gets built and opens up you’ll be 
medical director for the four hotels. Get yourself a staff. Your money goes up too, but 
you can discuss that with Tom at a later time. And Lucy, I want you to do something 
more important. Maybe coordinate all the shops that will be opening up in the hotel 
arcades. On the financial side. Or maybe hiring the girls we need to work in the casinos. 
something like that. So if Jules doesn’t marry you, you can be a rich old maid.” 
Freddie had been puffing on his cigar angrily. Michael turned to him and said gently, “I’m 
just the errand boy for the Don, Freddie. What he wants you to do he’ll tell you himself, 
naturally, but I’m sure it will be something big enough to make you happy. Everybody 
tells us what a great job you’ve been doing here.” 
“Then why is he sore at me?” Freddie asked plaintively. “Just because the casino has 

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