She pulled up a mental image of the report Carrie had given her on Argyle Community Hospital. Her memory was eidetic, or nearly so for practical reasons, and she sifted through the names of the board of trustees and then came to the entry she was seeking. Medical Chief of Staff: Dr. Edward William Rivers. She returned to the reception desk. Dora gave her another smile.

“Did you forget something, dear?”

“No, just curious. It looks as if the Rivers family is an institution around here.”

“Oh, well I would say so,” Dora said. “The first Dr. Rivers—that would have been Alexander Rivers—founded the hospital way back when the community was established, and there’s always been a Dr. Rivers at the Rivers.”

“The Rivers?”

“That’s what the hospital was called until after the war. Then, you know, the hospital name was changed, but it will always be the Rivers to a lot of us. We were mostly all born here, and our children too.” Dora laughed. “We’ve got some new blood over the years, of course—people moving in to try their hand at farming or raising goats and alpacas and such—but the majority of the families have been here a long time.”

“Yes, of course.” Presley tucked away that little bit of information. Community resistance in any kind of takeover was a possibility, although in this instance, she doubted any kind of organized or effective opposition could be mounted in time to slow the transition. She planned to be in and out as soon as possible, but it never hurt to be forewarned. “Well, thank you again.”

As soon as she passed beyond the foyer into the main building, the ambience changed. The hallways were still wide and grand with paneled wainscoting and tasteful muted colors and paintings of pastoral scenes hung at intervals, but the familiar signs of hospital activity were everywhere. Small discreet signs directed patients toward radiology, the outpatient labs, admissions, and the ER. Others pointed visitors to the elevators for the intensive care unit, the surgical waiting room, and the patient floors. Hospital personnel in scrubs, lab coats, and smocks hurried through the halls, some pushing gowned patients in wheelchairs. A young blonde in a white shirt with a logo above her breast that said Food Service pushed a rattling cart with pots of coffee and trays of bagels. She slowed and smiled at Presley, her gaze unmistakably appreciative.

“Looking for the conference room?” the blonde asked. Her ID read Deana.

“Is that where the coffee is going?”

Deana laughed. She was pretty in a completely unstudied way—clear eyed, no makeup, youthful and fresh. “Yes. Grand rounds, right?”

“Afraid not.”

“There’s plenty more in the cafeteria, then. Need directions?”

“I can probably find it. I’ll just follow the coffee.”

“Good. Need any help, let me know. Always guaranteed to be fresh. The coffee, that is.”

The mild flirtation was surprisingly pleasant and Presley grinned. “No doubt.”

The blonde grinned back and continued off with the clattering cart. Presley followed the signs toward the outpatient area, interested to see what kind of facilities were available. More signs pointed to cardiology, pediatrics, and the walk-in clinic. A few patients waited in seating areas here or there. She backtracked and took a left turn toward the emergency room and instantly felt the controlled tension in the air. The overhead lights were brighter, a row of wheelchairs lined one wall, and men and women in various colored scrubs hurried by. A young man in blue scrubs nodded to her as he pushed a gurney holding an old man with an oxygen cannula in his nose and a beeping portable cardiac monitor by his side. The old man’s eyes were closed, his stubbled cheeks pale, and his frail body barely made a ripple in the crisp white sheet covering him. Somewhere up ahead a child wailed.

She glanced into the patient waiting area across from the closed double doors marked Patients Only. Rows of plastic chairs faced a cubicle where a woman in a flowered smock sat at a computer behind a sliding Plexiglas window. A frazzled brunette in low-cut jeans and a frilly white ruffled top that exposed her pale midriff rocked a red-faced, tear-streaked toddler. An old woman with thick ankles and heavy black shoes in a worn gray sweater and shapeless faded floral housedress sat against the far wall with her palms pressed against her broad thighs, staring straight ahead as if she were somewhere else. Waiting for news, perhaps about the old man. Two teenage girls with teased hair and nearly identical tight, scoop-necked tank tops huddled over their phones in another corner, thumbs flicking rapidly as they texted.

The ER swished open, and Presley caught a glimpse of a big whiteboard with names scrawled in Magic Marker next to room numbers. Charts sat in slots down the wall beside the board. Over half of the ten or so slots were filled. Busy for a weekday morning.

Presley recalled the stats for the last year. The hundred-and-twenty-bed hospital had seen over eight thousand patients come through the emergency room with an admission rate of 15 percent. The hospital ran at 85 percent capacity and the OR at 90, employed a hundred nurses, nearly that number of ancillary technicians, another twenty in the clerical ranks, and a half dozen administrators. There were no full-time physician employees—all were private practitioners with admitting privileges. The model was an old one and not particularly efficient—too many overlapping specialties and not enough centralization. The number of inpatients at any time could easily be cared for by far fewer hospital-employed physicians. However, that wasn’t a problem she needed to be concerned with. The location within sixty miles of a medical center made the entire facility redundant.

As the ER doors started to close, two women walked through talking intensely in low voices. The taller, dark-haired one with a stethoscope slung around her neck was dressed casually in black pants and a neatly pressed pale blue shirt. The other, a sandy-brown-haired woman in hospital greens and a white lab coat, paused, and both scrutinized Presley.

The dark-haired one caught the door before it could swing closed and smiled. “Are you on your way in to see a patient?”

The question, or maybe it was the quick, warm smile and honey-slow voice, caught Presley off guard. A morning for surprises. “No. Thanks. Actually, I’m looking for the administrative wing.”

The one in scrubs laughed, her dark brown eyes dancing. Her grin was cocky and confident. “Well, we wouldn’t exactly call it a wing, but maybe a wing tip.”

“That will do nicely,” Presley said.

“I’m headed that way.” The dark-haired one held out her hand. “Harper Rivers.”

Another Rivers. Presley took her hand. It was large, warm, and strong. “Presley Worth.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Harper Rivers’s eyes were a dramatic shade of deep blue, and Presley had a hard time looking away. She released Harper’s hand. “You too.”

“I’m Flannery,” the sandy-haired one said, edging into Presley’s field of vision. “The better-looking sib.”

Presley glanced from one to the other and saw it then—the bold angle of the jaws, the firm straight noses, the full expressive lips. Eyes of a different color, but similar intelligent, confident gazes. The supply of Rivers doctors was apparently endless.

“I’ll wisely reserve comment,” Presley said.

Harper laughed and Flannery grinned.

“Are you new in town?” Flannery asked.

Curious, Presley nodded. “I am. How did you know that?”

The grin returned. “Because I don’t know you, and I would’ve remembered if I’d seen you before.”

“Aha,” Presley said. The woman was so self-assured she didn’t even pretend to be embarrassed at using such an old line, and that made her interesting. “Of course.”

Harper Rivers shook her head, her expression amused. “Don’t you have a case, Flann?”

“I’m going.” Flannery backed up a step, her focus still on Presley. “Staying long?”

“A while.”

“Excellent. If you need a tour guide or…anything, I’ll be free later today. Just call the operator. She’ll page me.”

Harper called after her, “Let me know what you find.”

Flannery tossed a salute. “Will do. Lunch?”

“Sure.” As Flannery disappeared around a corner, Harper turned back to Presley Worth, who looked after Flann with amused, faintly appraising blue eyes. Harper was used to seeing interest in a woman’s eyes when they considered Flann, but Presley’s expression was far more contemplative, as if she was trying to decide if Flann was worth her time. An unfamiliar reversal where Flann was concerned. Harper searched for something to say that wouldn’t sound like a follow-up to Flann’s invitation. “Been in town long?”

“That obvious?”

Harper laughed. “Only to someone paying attention—between me and Flann, we know the families of every patient in the hospital. Plus…”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Harper didn’t usually strike up conversations with women out of the blue, and definitely not in the hospital. That was Flann’s special skill. Flann was at ease with women anywhere and always had more dates and interested women than she could handle. Not so Harper. She preferred slow introductions and cautious explorations. She didn’t date much—she liked her privacy, and dating anyone at the hospital automatically meant everyone in the community would know before the night was out. And she’d grown up with many of the women she saw outside her professional arena and thought of them as friends, not romantic possibilities.

“Oh no,” Presley said. “You started it—now you have to finish.”

The teasing challenge in Presley’s voice caught Harper’s attention. “Your tan is a few weeks too early for the local weather, and…”

Presley made a keep-going gesture.

“And you look like a city girl.”

“Why do I think that might be a veiled insult?”

“Not at all,” Harper said hastily. “You look terrific.”

“You’re forgiven, then.”

Harper shook her head. “Sorry. Flann is the one with the smooth lines. I’m just a simple country doctor.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Presley said. “I must be keeping you.”

“I’m just making rounds. I’ll walk you down—do you have a room number?”

Presley hesitated. This was neither the time nor place to discuss her purpose with anyone, and most especially not one of the hospital’s dynastic family. “Actually, I’m here…about a job.”

Not strictly true, but not exactly a lie either. She wondered what Harper knew of the takeover and had the odd desire not to dispel their easy exchange quite so quickly. She must be more tired than she thought.

“Come on,” Harper said. “You’ll want personnel.”

Presley followed along. “What’s your specialty?”

“Family practice.”

“You work here at the clinic?”

“I staff it in rotation with about six others, but most of my practice is community based.”

“And your sister’s a surgeon.”

“Flann’s a general surgeon—she did a trauma fellowship, so she handles most anything out of the ordinary.”

Presley frowned. “What’s your trauma clearance?”

Harper gave her a questioning look. “Level three. Flann transfers out the complicated ones after they’re stabilized.”

They turned down another corridor lined with offices, the doors standing open and people visible within, working at desks.

“Are you staying in town?” Harper asked.

“Just a little ways outside.”

“Family in the area?”

“No,” Presley said, realizing her tone was sharper than she intended.

Harper paused in front of a partially open door. “This is personnel. You probably want to speak to someone in here if it’s about a job.”

“And where would the chief administrator’s office be?”

“That would be the room at the end.” Harper glanced at her watch. “Anyone there should be able to help you.”

Presley smiled. “Thank you for the tour.”

“Anytime.” Harper smiled wryly as if at some private joke. “And of course, there’s always Flann to continue the tour.”

“Of course.” Presley laughed.

“Good luck.”

Presley frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“With the job application.”

“Oh, yes. Thank you.”

“Well, good-bye then.”

“Have a good day,” Presley called as Harper Rivers walked away.

Harper turned back, her expression so intense Presley caught her breath. “You too.”

Presley really hoped she would, but she suspected before the day was out the Riverses and quite a few others would be less than happy to see her.

Chapter Four

Harper slid the cafeteria tray onto a table by the window and sat down facing Flannery. A lilac bush that had bloomed sometime in the last two days, its branches laden with deep purple flowers, brushed gently against the corner of the glass as if inviting her outside. Someone had opened the window, and the sweet vanilla scent of blossoms and fresh-cut grass beckoned. Down the hill, the church spire at the far end of town speared above slate rooftops, glinting in the sunlight. A twinge of spring fever and an unfamiliar restlessness toyed with her concentration. She rarely thought of escaping her schedule or her responsibilities, and the teasing urge to leave everything behind for just a day annoyed and unsettled her. She focused on Flann and the patient they shared, bringing her world back into order. “Everything go okay?”