“I’d like a tour of the institution, if that could be arranged,” Presley said to Edward.

“Of course,” Edward said. “Harper will see that you’re familiarized with the hospital.”

Harper glanced at her watch and made no effort to hide her displeasure. “I have patients this afternoon.”

“And I wouldn’t want to delay you,” Presley said. “What time would be convenient for you?”

A muscle jumping in her jaw, Harper said, “Tomorrow morning should be fine. Eight a.m.?”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“I’ll meet you in the lobby.” Harper nodded curtly, turned, and left without another word.

Presley gathered her briefcase and bag. Harper Rivers could prove to be a problem. She might do better with the other Rivers on her side, and reconsidered Flannery’s invitation to show her around town.

Chapter Five

Midafternoon, Flannery stopped by the recovery room to check her two post-op patients. Mike McCormick, the laparoscopic hernia repair she’d finished right before lunch, was awake and sitting up. A husky thirty-five-year-old redhead, he’d resisted her recommendation to have the progressively enlarging mass in his scrotum repaired until he’d shown up in her office the day before with pain so severe he could barely walk. Even then, he’d browbeaten her into promising he could go home after his procedure as long as he could tolerate the postoperative pain. She reminded him what it felt like to have a good swift kick in the gonads, and he reminded her he’d had plenty of hits below the belt as captain of the football team and all the other high school sports he’d excelled in. She’d only nodded and said they’d see about him going home after he woke up.

“How are you doing, Mike?”

“It feels like somebody twisted my nuts off.”

She smiled and resisted the I-told-you-so comeback. “I promise, I didn’t. In fact…” She pulled the curtain around his bed and then pulled the sheet down to his midthighs. The incisions she’d made had been small ones in his groin crease and lower abdomen through which she’d introduced the scope to repair the defects in the abdominal wall from the inside. All the same, she’d had to do a fair amount of pulling and tugging on some pretty sensitive tissues, and although rare, there was always the concern there might be some compromise to the blood supply. She pulled on gloves and gently palpated his groin. “Everything is fine. There’s a lot of swelling, and you’re going to feel like you’ve got a soccer ball between your legs for four or five days, but I don’t see any problems right now. I suggest you stay overnight so we can give you—”

“I best be getting home,” he said, his tone firm despite his pasty-white coloring and the beads of sweat pearling on his forehead.

Flannery set humor aside. If he didn’t follow her instructions to restrict his physical exercise for ten days, he’d be right back in here with something worse going on. “Mike, look. You’re going to be miserable if you go home this afternoon. There’s nothing you can do around the farm anyhow.”

“I can give orders, can’t I?”

“Sure, if you’re not throwing up from the pain or the pain pills. Marianne can give orders just as well as you can. Let her take care of things until you’re back on your feet.”

His jaw bunched. “It’s not Marianne’s job to run the farm.”

Flannery resisted the urge to roll her eyes. If she hadn’t grown up with half her patients or their relatives, she wouldn’t understand how their minds worked. “Listen, take it from me. If you let her help you once in a while, she’ll know she’s important to you, and women like that sort of thing.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Is that right.”

She nodded. “You can take it to the bank.”

“You probably know.” He sighed, his frown more for show now than anything else. “I suppose I could tell her what needs to be done.”

“You could, but you might ask her how things are going and I bet you’ll find out she’s got things covered.” She pulled the sheet up, wrote an order to increase his dose of pain medication, and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll be by early tomorrow morning and if things look good, you can go home. Get some sleep, don’t get out of bed, and let your wife take care of things for a few hours.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Her last stop was Bryce Daniels, the teenager who’d had the hot appendix. His temp was still a couple of degrees above normal, but he was awake and joking with the nurses when she pulled the curtain aside and stepped up to his bed.

“Hungry?” she asked.

“Yeah, like I haven’t eaten in a week.”

“You’ll be getting juice and Jell-O in a while.”

His face fell. “I was kind of hoping the guys could bring me a pizza. I’m really hungry, Doc.”

“I believe it, but if your stomach isn’t settled enough after the anesthesia and you vomit, trust me, you’re going to be one unhappy dude. Let’s just see how the liquids go, and if everything looks good later on this afternoon, the nurses can try you on something a little more substantial.”

“Okay, but I can go home tomorrow, right?”

“As long as your temp’s down in the morning.”

“How big is my scar going to be?”

She held her hands up ten inches apart and his eyes widened. She laughed. “About two and a half inches. But it’ll still impress the girls, don’t worry.”

He grinned.

“Get some sleep.”

In the surgical locker room, she changed into jeans, her favorite pair of scuffed brown boots, and a plain white shirt and tossed her used scrubs into the hamper on her way out. As she was leaving the hospital, she noticed Clyde Endee talking to Presley Worth in the visitors’ lot. She diverted from her planned path to her Jeep and sauntered over to them. “Afternoon, Clyde. Ms. Worth.”

“Hi, Flann. I was just dropping off a new car here for Ms. Worth.”

Flannery took in the shiny Subaru hatchback. Presley worked fast, it appeared. “Door-to-door service. Nice.”

“You know me, service is my middle name.” Clyde chuckled.

Flannery said to Presley, “All done for the day?”

“All done here. I’ve got some work to do at home.”

“Are you the type to play hooky?”

“Not usually.” Presley glanced back at the hospital and had the feeling that a dozen pairs of eyes were trained on them. As she’d walked out of the hospital, more than one individual had paused to watch her go by. Word traveled fast in a place like this, and she wondered what story was being spun about her arrival. She was used to being the outsider, the stranger who appeared on the scene to disrupt everyone’s routine and, in some cases, to threaten more than one person’s job. Often the only people who welcomed her were those behind the scenes who financed the enterprise or benefited from the profits. They were rarely the ones who performed the day-to-day functions of the business. Not many employees, management or otherwise, were happy to see her, but she couldn’t be concerned with being liked. What mattered to her was reconfiguring the newest acquisition to position it within the superstructure of SunView in order to maximize profitability.

It wasn’t her job to make anyone happy, and whether she did or didn’t had nothing to do with how happy she was with the job. Her happiness was spelled out on the bottom line at the end of the day. Neither did it bother her when she made people unhappy with her recommendations and decisions. She wasn’t a corporate raider—more often than not, those in control of the institutions SunView acquired wanted to be absorbed, hoping for a quick profit and a lot of long-term benefits. Unfortunately, many of the employees stood to lose some or all of their livelihood. If she allowed herself to feel responsible for that, she wouldn’t be able to do her job, and what would be the point? She was good at what she did, and the better she was at her job, the more powerful allies she would gain at SunView, and she would need plenty if she planned to be head of the company. This hospital, like so many others, was a brief stop along her way to the top, and when she finished here, it would be forgotten as quickly as all the others.

Ignoring Flannery, who seemed to be waiting for her to say more, she turned to Clyde. “Thank you for delivering the vehicle. If I have any questions or problems, I’ll let you know.”

“My number’s on the card there.”

Presley took the keys and a booklet with paperwork. She slid the papers into her shoulder bag. “That’s great. Thanks.”

“Where are you staying?” Flannery asked as Clyde headed back to his truck.

“At the White place, I’m told it’s called.”

“Oh yeah? Pretty out there.”

“If you like cows, I suppose.”

Flannery grinned. “I didn’t have to guess you weren’t a country girl.”

“Oh? And what was your first clue?”

She glanced down at her shoes. “The Manolos.”

“I think I’m impressed.”

“Why? That a simple country surgeon—”

“Oh, please. Between you and your sister, I’ve had enough of the simple country doctor routine. No, I merely don’t think you look like the kind of woman to be wearing heels or to recognize their designer.”

“Well, you’re right about the first part,” Flannery said. “But I’ve been known to have female friends who wear heels, and I am observant.”

“That I can believe.” Presley walked around to the driver’s side of the car. “And you’re right, I’m not a country girl.”

Flannery leaned on the top of the car and folded her arms. “So why here?”

“Like I said—I’m here because of a job.”

“And there wasn’t anyone else…where did you come from, anyhow?”

“Phoenix.”

“So no one else in Phoenix wanted to spend a few months up here in the peace and quiet, taking the country air?”