Flann said, “I’m staring, aren’t I.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Forgive me.” Flann pressed a hand to her chest. “I couldn’t help myself. You are truly beautiful.”

“Ah.” Pink colored the ivory cheeks. “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you.”

“Is there something I can help you with?” She spoke slowly, as if to a dangerous animal she wasn’t quite certain was safe, or to a madman.

Flann laughed. “Let’s start again. I’m Flannery Rivers. And who are you?”

“Carrie Longmire. Administrative assistant to Presley Worth.”

“Aha. The boss’s right hand.”

Carrie laughed. “Well—”

“Actually,” Presley said from the doorway of her office, “she’s occasionally both my hands and my brain. And she’s busy.”

“I am,” Carrie said quickly, pulling her keyboard closer.

Flann spun around. “Hello. Are you ready for your tour of the local wildlife?”

“I’m afraid my schedule—”

Carrie coughed delicately, and Presley shot her a look. Flann watched the silent exchange and noted that the beautiful Carrie Longmire held considerable sway with the formidable new hospital exec. Interesting.

Presley sighed. “We did work through lunch, and I suppose it would be a good idea for both of us to get a introduction to the area.”

“Excellent.” Flann looked from Presley to Carrie. The day just kept getting better. “I would be delighted to escort you both.”

Carrie popped up from behind her desk and grabbed an oversized leather bag.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Presley said and disappeared into her office.

“Does she bite?” Flann whispered.

Carrie smiled sweetly. “Only when necessary.”

Chapter Ten

Flannery drove them into the village and parked on the main street, a two-lane road running through six or seven blocks of the village proper. The area would have been called quaint except that on close inspection many of the buildings showed unmistakable signs of deterioration and at least a third of the storefront businesses were closed. The village itself was an odd mixture of residences and businesses mingled together, as if houses had been built with an eye toward the proximity to the essentials of community life—work, school, and church. Several old brick factories stood along the river, their windows broken out and, in some cases, the roofs collapsed or damaged by fire.

“What was the industry here?” Presley asked.

“The Hudson River Valley has always been agricultural, but in the early settlements the river also provided power for mills, primarily flax, and transportation routes for textile and paper production. Once those goods started shipping by rail and manufacturing eventually moved out of the country altogether, the factories died away. Now tourism and agriculture are the primary sources of income in this area.”

Carrie said, “I read somewhere recently that a big electronics factory is locating near here. That will bring in new money, won’t it?”

Presley was impressed. Carrie had always been a self-starter, which was one of the many reasons she would do well. Her amiable, outgoing manner put clients at ease, and she had a keen business mind coupled with an aggressive determination to succeed. That little tidbit about a major new industry in the area was news, and something she’d have to factor in to her projections.

“That’s true, at least the factory is being built not far from here,” Flannery said. “But in general, people don’t like to commute, so I’m not sure how much housing spillover we’ll get. Still, the hospital draws from a large catchment area throughout the rural counties and provides jobs for a lot of the local community.”

“How far are we from the major highway? The Northway, isn’t it?” Presley said.

“Not far—at least not by rural standards. Probably twenty minutes, but then it’s another fifteen or twenty to the next regional hospital and a good forty-five to anything larger than that.”

Presley made a mental note to include that data in her assessment. She pointed to a feed store across the street. “That place—would they have rooster food?”

Flannery stopped, a grin spreading across her face. She’d changed into jeans and a polo shirt before they’d left the hospital, and she looked more like one of the tourists ambling along the streets than the urban surgeons Presley was used to dealing with. “No, ’fraid not.”

Presley frowned. “Mail-order then?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well then, where—”

“You could probably get chicken food, if you’re talking about, you know”—she made flapping movements with her arms—“cluck, cluck.”

“I see. Thank you for being so very helpful.” Presley tried to hide her smile with a glare. Flannery was charming enough to pull off the teasing, a friendly bantering Presley had never shared with anyone. Her family was not big on humor, and people she worked with wouldn’t assume the familiarity. When Flannery laughed, her brown eyes alight, Presley relented and joined in.

“How about people food?” Carrie asked. “Any place in town good for takeout or eat in?”

“There’s a diner, opens at three and closes about two.”

“Wait,” Carrie said. “Three in the afternoon until two in the morning?”

“Other way around—a.m. to p.m. No supper. Most everybody’s inside and in bed soon after the sun goes down. No late-night business.”

“You’re not really serious,” Presley said.

“Actually, I’m not exaggerating by much. The farmers are all up and out before sunrise, and once the sun goes down there’s not much to do around here. So supper is an early affair and then everyone turns in.”

Presley sent up a prayer to the gods of the Internet that she’d at least be able to contact the outside world somehow at night while the rest of the community slumbered.

“Where’s the supermarket?” Carrie asked.

Flannery pointed in the opposite direction from which they’d arrived in town. “There’s a small grocery on the far end of town with local produce in season and just about anything you’d need in terms of essentials. Good pizza and sandwiches too. There’s a big organic full-service place about twenty-five minutes south of here.”

Carrie looked aghast. “Twenty-five minutes. For groceries.”

“That and most big department stores, for clothes and that sort of thing.”

“Oh my God.” Carrie looked at Presley. “You knew and you didn’t warn me.”

“I didn’t want to ruin your flight.”

“Come on,” Flannery said. “I’ll buy you an ice cream while you recover from the culture shock.”

“This makes up for the grocery a little,” Carrie said as they sat on a wooden bench in front of the ice cream shop with enormous cones of homemade ice cream.

When they’d finished, Flannery took them through the rest of the town and pointed out the post office, the small, still-family-run pharmacy, the pizza place, the diner, and the bar that served food until ten at night. All in all it took them forty minutes of leisurely walking.

Presley couldn’t argue the village had its charms, with its quiet, almost genteel sensibility, but she suspected she would soon chafe at the absence of readily accessible conveniences. She glanced at her watch. “I think Carrie and I should probably make a quick run to that supermarket you mentioned. Our housekeeper is going to help with the food shopping, but we don’t have much of anything else in the house.”

“You said you hadn’t had lunch and it’s almost suppertime,” Flannery said. “Come to my house for dinner.”

“No,” Presley said quickly. Too quickly to be polite, probably, but the idea of socializing further with Flannery was out of the question. Flannery was for all intents and purposes her employee. “Thank you, but you’ve already been far too kind.”

“Oh, sorry,” Flannery said, “I gave you the wrong idea. I’m not cooking. That would be my mother. Everyone has dinner at the big house on Friday night.”

“Well, we certainly can’t intrude.” Presley backed up a few steps and glanced at Carrie for support. A family dinner. That meant Harper would be there. While Flannery had been entertaining her and Carrie, she’d managed not to think about the way she’d left things with Harper earlier. She couldn’t recall the last time anyone had seen her lose control like that. Seeing Harper at dinner would require a truce if not an apology for losing her temper, and that would just be—awkward. “I’m sure your mother wouldn’t appreciate surprise gue—”

“My mother is used to us bringing friends home. We’ve been doing it all our lives.”

“Yes, but we’re not dressed and—”

Flannery raised her brows. “You don’t look naked to me.”

Presley shot Carrie another look.

“You know,” Carrie said, “dinner would be great if it really wouldn’t be a huge imposition on your mother. Maybe we could help? I’m pretty good in the kitchen.”

Flannery laughed. “Not unless you’d like to lose some of your appendages. My mother might put you to work, but you’ll have to wait until she deems you worthy. Let’s go, we’re not that far away.”

“I really don’t thi—” Presley’s protest died as Carrie grabbed her arm.

“I think meeting the Rivers family would be a wonderful idea,” Carrie said.

Outmaneuvered again. Bowing gracefully to the inevitable, Presley said, “For a short while, yes. Thank you so much.”

“Like I said,” Flannery said, leading the way back to her Jeep, “entirely my pleasure.”

*

The house at the end of the long drive was different than anything Presley had seen in town or the surrounding farmland they’d passed through in the last ten minutes. The stately mansion, sprawling along the water’s edge, was surrounded by copses of trees and fields of corn just breaking through the earth that swept like soft green wings along the riverfront. From the drive, the front of the house had a formal appearance with tall symmetrical windows set in brick, and heavy white colonnades framing the entrance. A Volvo sat under a porte cochere on the left, and Flannery pulled up behind it.

“Good, Carson’s here. Have you met her yet?”

“Not yet.” Presley had wanted to have a little more information before she talked to the third Rivers sister about hospital census, admission patterns, medical records, and other demographic data, but now her plans had been preempted. An all-too-familiar occurrence lately and not one she welcomed.

Carrie leaned forward from the backseat. “This is amazing. How much land is there?”

Flannery cut the engine and opened her door to admit a breeze smelling of earth and water and green things. “The original parcel was fifteen hundred acres. Over the centuries, some was portioned off to the offspring of the original owners so the children could homestead near their parents and grandparents. Currently, we have a little over five hundred acres.”

“Do you live here, then?” Presley asked, secretly horrified at the thought of living anywhere near—let alone with—her parents. Obligatory dinners and social events always turned into critiques of her and Preston’s latest accomplishments, or lack thereof.

“Not me, no.” Flannery’s expression closed for an instant before her usual smile returned. “Harper has the old caretaker’s place just back up the road a quarter mile, and Carson and her husband Bill have ten acres round the next bend.”

Of course Harper would be the one closest to home, Presley thought. She was the heir apparent not just at the hospital, but here too.

“Five hundred acres.” Carrie stepped out and looked around. “It’s magnificent. And I think I smell dinner.”

Presley walked between Flannery and Carrie on the way to the house, preparing for a less-than-warm welcome. She doubted anyone in the Rivers family was happy about the transition. But Carrie was right, meeting the family was a good way to judge what she might be up against in the next few weeks. She refused to consider it might be the next few months.

Another porch stretched the length of the back of the house, facing a long grassy slope down to the river. Across the river, which looked to be a quarter of a mile wide, were at least four more huge fields and a white farmhouse beyond those. Otherwise there were no neighbors in sight.

“Here we are.” Flannery held open the screen door and gestured them inside.

Steeling herself, Presley walked into an enormous kitchen redolent of something wonderful. A younger woman who had to be Carson, since she looked like a red-haired copy of Harper, sat at the table with a child in her lap. A gold wedding band glinted on her left hand. An older woman with dark hair streaked with gray at the temples and striking blue eyes the same shade as Harper’s, wearing a red-and-white checked apron around her neck and a plain blue cotton dress, chopped carrots at a cutting board by the sink. She glanced over and took in Presley and Carrie in one swift glance.