On impulse, she bypassed the stairs and turned down the east corridor toward admin, wondering if her father might be in the staff office catching up on paperwork as he often did early in the morning. His door was partly open and the light on, and she started in, expecting to hear his voice as he dictated reports or discharge summaries. She drew up short, remembering too late the office wasn’t his any longer.

“If you’re sure you can find it, call me when you get settled,” Presley said. “I’ll show you around and get you started on the staff assessments…About what you might expect. An abundance of dinosaurs.”

Harper halted, unable not to hear the conversation.

Presley laughed. “Around here, putting out to pasture is more than a metaphor…See you soon.”

Harper knocked on the door, refusing to skulk away as if she’d intentionally been eavesdropping. She wasn’t surprised by Presley’s view of the Rivers as provincial and old-fashioned, considering the circles she usually moved in, but the snap judgment irked all the same. Traditional didn’t mean outdated.

“Come in,” Presley called.

Harper pushed the door wide and Presley rose behind her desk. She glanced at her watch when she saw Harper.

“I’m sorry, am I late? I thought you said—”

“No, I just happened to be here.”

Presley wore another understatedly elegant suit, a pale green shirt over rich chocolate trousers. The jacket hung over the back of what had been Harper’s father’s chair. Her golden-blond hair was held back with a paler gold tie. She looked crisp and efficient and commanding. She should have looked out of place, but somehow she didn’t. She wore authority well, and that confidence was compelling. Harper slid her hands into the pockets of her slightly rumpled khakis. Presley was studying her in turn. Her gaze, acute and unapologetic, traveled over Harper’s face. Harper wondered what she was looking for, and what she saw.

“Do you do this often?” Harper asked.

Presley leaned forward, her fingertips resting on the surface of the desk, her gaze holding Harper’s. “What, exactly?”

“Take over hospitals?”

“We acquire new facilities several times a year,” Presley said.

“And then what do you do with them?”

“I plan to provide a prospectus of SunView’s activities that I think will give you a better understanding of who we are.” She frowned slightly. “I’m afraid the lines of communication haven’t been handled as well as they should have been regarding this acquisition. I wasn’t in charge of the initial negotiations. So I apologize for the lack of information. I plan to rectify that as soon as possible.”

“If you weren’t in charge, who was?”

“Another department,” Presley said coolly.

“So why apologize?”

“Because I’m here now, and I am in charge.”

Harper appreciated Presley’s refusal to pass the buck, whether out of loyalty or sense of responsibility. Both counted in her book. “I understand. It’s sort of like here.”

“I’m sorry?”

Harper grinned wryly. “The board kept this quiet until the deal was done.”

“I can assure you, Dr. Rivers—”

“Harper.”

Presley nodded. “Harper. None of this was undertaken with the intention of secrecy. SunView dealt with those who controlled the financial—”

“So I was told. But there’s more to us than facts and figures, you know.”

“I know,” Presley said.

“Do you?”

“I will.”

Harper knew the heart of the Rivers wasn’t going to be found in the ledgers and balance sheets, and she wanted this woman, this stranger who seemed to hold the fate of a big part of the community in her hands, to know that too. “Let’s postpone the tour. Make rounds with me this morning instead. Get a look at what the hospital is really like out from behind that desk.”

Presley’s first instinct was to refuse. She had just started delving into the financials and had the entire day planned out. Carrie was on her way to the house from the airport and ought to be at the hospital by midmorning. She didn’t really have time for anything other than a quick survey of the physical layout. And what could she possibly learn from trailing after Harper while she visited patients?

“Don’t you think the patients would find that an intrusion?”

“If there’s anything sensitive, we’ll ask their permission. But I doubt it.”

“I really don’t have—”

“How can you run a healthcare system and not know what it is that we really do?”

Presley stifled her irritation. The question just underscored how little she and Harper had in common. One didn’t need to know how an airplane engine worked to run Boeing, or understand nanomaterials to manage IBM. That was what the technical departments were for. “Running a hospital profitably occurs on a different plane than dispensing care. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were happy accepting chickens in payment for your services, but most of us have moved beyond that now.”

“Right. Because I’m one of the dinosaurs.”

“Ah.” Presley glanced at the open door. No one had been around when she’d arrived before dawn, and she’d been careless. She wouldn’t let that happen again. There was no point apologizing, not that she was inclined to. Her assessment of the staff, no matter how flip, was also accurate. The physicians with admitting privileges were an aging group with the exception of a handful like Harper and Flannery. Most were well beyond retirement age and, she was willing to bet when she looked at their statistics, probably had a preponderance of elderly patients with few resources who overstayed the recommended average, putting a strain on the hospital’s resources and lowering the reimbursement quotient.

“I wasn’t actually thinking of you with that remark.”

Harper shrugged. “I have been known to take a dozen eggs now and then.”

Presley laughed. “I completely believe that.”

“You can be pretty sure I mean what I say.”

“I suspect that’s a family trait.”

“Among others.”

Presley put her laptop to sleep. Transitions always went more smoothly when the hospital’s power brokers were cooperative. Harper Rivers—the whole Rivers family—was enmeshed with the hospital and the community. Antagonizing any of them was not prudent. If spending an hour tagging along with Harper would help, she’d make room in her schedule.

She slipped into her jacket and slid her cell phone into her pocket. “All right, Dr. Rivers. Educate me.”

*

Harper hadn’t expected Presley to agree. She’d seen the indecision in her eyes and could almost read the dismissal in her mind. Hiding her surprise when Presley joined her, she led the way back to the main hospital building, pointing out the administrative offices as they passed.

“The head of admissions is over here,” Harper said, pointing to the door to her sister’s office. “Carson should be in around eight. She can tell you just about anything you need to know about hospital visits, admission stats, placement, that sort of thing. She deals with social services pretty regularly as well.”

“That would be”—Presley scanned her mental files—“Carson Rivers.”

“That’s right.”

“Let me guess.” Presley paused. “Sister?”

“Third oldest, right.”

“Wait a minute.” Presley smiled, warmth softening the usually cool planes of her face. “Harper, Flannery, Carson. Who in the family is the Southern-author fan?”

“They’re some of my mother’s favorites,” Harper said. “She and my father met when he was doing his residency in Charlotte. She said if she had to move north into Yankee territory, her children would be reminded of their Southern roots.”

“Harper,” Presley turned the word over musingly. “It’s Harper Lee, isn’t it? Harper Lee Rivers?”

Harper nodded.

“Flannery O’Connor Rivers?”

Harper grinned. “That’s right.”

“Carson McCullers Rivers?”

“Right again.”

Presley laughed, and her laughter transformed her. She was still elegant, but softer, more approachable, the light dancing in her blue eyes hinting at hidden humor. “Tell me, is there a Kate Chopin Rivers too?”

The punch to the heart was no less powerful for being familiar. Harper kept her smile in place. “Kate was the fourth.”

Presley’s laughter disappeared and gentle sympathy filled her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Are there others?”

“Margaret Mitchell, the youngest. Margie is fifteen.”

“No boys?”

“I guess my mother wasn’t as fond of the Southern male authors.”

“Hmm. Is Margie bound for medicine too?”

Harper laughed. “She swears she’s forgoing medicine for professional soccer.”

“Breaking the family mold.”

“We’ll see. I went through a period when I was planning on being an organic farmer.”

“You, a farmer?” Presley shook her head. “I can’t see it.”

“I grew up on a farm, although I didn’t do a whole lot of hands-on farming. I was too busy following my dad around. But we’ve got some cows, chickens, a few pigs, and plenty of fertile pastureland. One of our neighbors farms that for us.”

“Never thought about leaving?”

“I left for medical school and residency.” Harper pushed open the stairwell door and held it for Presley. “And I was ready to come back. Not enough time to think. Too much noise.”

“Noise?”

“In the city. Always something moving, always something changing. Always something making noise.”

“Most people think of that as progress. And exciting.”

“I don’t see why progress has to be noisy.” Harper opened another door. “This is the fifth floor—the top floor. A mixed population of med-surg patients who no longer require acute nursing supervision. Most of the patients up here will be ready for discharge in a few days.”