Battling the Best Man: A Harmony Falls Novel, Book 2 (Crimson Romance) (9 page)

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t trust you.”

“That’s an awful thing to say to your new boss.”

“Fuck you,” she said, shooting him a snotty grin and then returning her attention to the papers. “There. I’d say that’s worse.”

Will laughed, because he just didn’t know what else to do. She wasn’t anything like the awkward girl she used to be. She didn’t cower around him, and she didn’t even respect him apparently. It was more appealing than it should have been.

His laughter died as he watched her read. Clear, clean fingernails picked at the papers’ corners. She used to wear glasses in high school. He wondered if she still did. Maybe at night while she was pouring over medical books. Did she ever slip the curved end of her frames between her lips and suck? Did she bite down, hard?

Damn.
Maybe he had a latent librarian fetish, because his skin was heating to clammy proportions.

Under different circumstances—a wedding reception perhaps—he’d pursue her, take a chance. He’d have little choice with the way his body was reacting. But things had changed since his brother’s wedding and Will’s indiscretions in the coat checkroom. As he watched Kory roll a pen between slim fingers, he reminded himself he was now her boss, and bosses didn’t pursue employees.

There were laws against that.

She glanced at him again. “It looks pretty standard.”

“It is.”

The pen hovered over the first signing point. “I swear to God, Will, if you make me regret this, I’ll hurt you.”

Twisted as he was, that was a promise he’d like to see her keep.

Kory locked herself in the staff bathroom, gripped the cold porcelain edges of a remarkably outdated sink complete with a rust ring around the drain, and looked her reflection in the eye. “We aren’t in Chicago anymore.”

Blowing out a big breath, she glanced at the suspended ceiling, yellow with age and water damage. The protein bar she ate for lunch gurgled in her gut, and for the millionth time today she wondered if her father wouldn’t be better off in a newer facility in Rileyville. But it was really, truly too late for thoughts like that now. She signed a contract. She’d have to make do, which meant smiling even though most of the staff saw her as the devil incarnate.

Valley Hospital System’s decision to back out of the nursing home deal had nothing to do with Kory, but by the way the nurses snickered and stared, they didn’t seem to know that. Five minutes into her first day, she’d overheard Margie Croft say, “Everyone knows Kory Flemming only wants to help her father, and then she’s out of here. To hell with the job security the rest of us want. Well, to hell with her!” It was hardly a welcome wagon.

And that was before she bumped into Gertrude, who looked at Kory pointedly and asked, “Were you interviewing for the job in the coat checkroom?”

Kory’s stomach gurgled again. The naysaying and gossip shouldn’t bother her. She was thick-skinned. She’d been called a fucking moron too many times to count by snarly surgeons twice her size. Still, the way these women doubted her
did
bother her.

She looked herself deep in the eyes again and mouthed, “Get a grip. Prove them wrong. It’s only temporary.”

The knob jiggled, followed by a knock. “Just a minute,” she called. When she stepped out Bev was waiting, a smile on her face, but she looked torn when she saw it was Kory. Then she simply nodded and pushed past into the ladies room.

At least she didn’t spit on me
, Kory thought. She’d been spit on before, but that was during a psych rotation in an architecturally stunning mental health hospital staffed by the nation’s top physicians and therapists. Somehow, being spat on in those surroundings was more appealing. What did that say about her? It didn’t matter. None of it mattered except getting her father well. The faster she got him well, the faster she could reclaim her life in Chicago.

“Dr. Flemming, Mr. Pell needs his toenails trimmed.”

Kory turned around to face a young nurse she didn’t recognize, one of the few people in the home who didn’t have a history here. “Okay, then let’s consult podiatry.”

Her face crinkled. “The closest podiatrist is in Rileyville, and he doesn’t make trips to Harmony Falls.”

Slowly, Kory understood. “I have to trim his nails.”

The nurse nodded. “He’s diabetic, and it’s facility protocol for a doctor to perform the task.”

Toenails.
Kory held back a grimace. This was something she’d never be asked to do in Chicago where podiatrists and resident podiatrists roamed the halls in numbers equal to nurses.
Rural medicine
, Kory thought. She wasn’t sure she was cut out for this. But once again she swallowed her discomfort and performed the task in the name of her father.

When Mr. Pell’s toes were hangnail-free, Kory walked the hall at a lightening pace she’d grown accustomed to while following attendings around major hospitals. As she went, she glimpsed empty room after empty room—not just void of patients but equipment, too. The last few days, she’d been acclimating to protocol and the handful of patients under her care. Now, it was time to focus on the facility. She needed furniture in the empty rooms if she wanted to fill this place with patients.

“Excuse me,” she called to the jumpsuit-clad body sticking halfway out of the janitor’s room.

Cliff Brown poked his head around the floppy head of a mop. “Afternoon, Dr. Flemming. What can I do ya for?”

“Hi, Cliff. Where is the equipment room?”

The skin on his wide nose crinkled. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Where do you keep the extra furniture? You know, beds, chairs, dressers?”

“Ah. In the junk room. Second door past the boiler room. You’ll need a key.” He pulled a massive collection of metal attached to a retractable cord from his belt.

Kory watched him fiddle with the keys until he found the one he was looking for. Calling it the junk room didn’t leave her feeling warm and fuzzy, but what did she expect? Surely they hadn’t stored the good stuff in order to happily use the bad.

“I don’t usually give out my keys, but I trust you.” He winked. “I remember when you was in diapers.” And then he nodded solemnly. “So sorry about your dad. I get to Rileyville a couple times a week for diesel in my truck, and I check on him when I can.”

Kory might not readily admit it, but there were some benefits to living in a small town. Cliff, knowing and caring enough about her father to visit him at a hospital thirty miles away was definitely one of those benefits. The fact that Cliff remembered her diaper days?—Not so much. Regardless, she relayed her appreciation with a smile as she accepted the key, and then she thanked God at least one person around here was happy to see her. It was an unexpected boost that put pep in her step as she set out in search of “the junk room.”

Her mood plummeted the minute she flipped a switch, illuminating the equipment room with harsh overhead lights that crackled and popped until two went dark, casting shadows that made what was there look even dingier: tables with missing legs and chairs with exposed stuffing. She walked to the nearest bed and pulled on the guardrail. It came off in her hand.

How was she supposed to fill a nursing home that didn’t have beds? And why in God’s name did they feel the need to lock this room? Who would steal this stuff? Junk room, indeed.

On a huff, she left and headed straight for Fran’s office. She found the nursing home director with her head down, typing frantically.

Kory knocked. Fran kept typing.

“Do you have a minute?” Kory asked.

“Not really, but if you don’t mind me typing while you’re talking, shoot.”

“How much money is in the budget for new furniture?”

Fran laughed. Her fingers never skipped a beat. “None. We’re lucky we have a line item for bedpans.”

“How are we supposed to fill rooms without beds?”

“Welcome to my world.”

“Surely we can move some things around. Can’t we take some money from the rec therapy department?”

Fran laughed louder. “You’ve been in Chicago too long, Dr. Flemming. Rec therapy.” She shook her head. “Rec therapy at H.E.C consists of Bev reading romance novels to Mrs. Park on Sunday nights.”

“Can’t we ask the Mitchells for a larger budget?”

Fran’s fingers stilled. She rolled her eyes in their sockets until they locked on Kory. “This home is destined for sale. Any money put into the place is wasted money. The Mitchells are already doing everything they can.”

Of course. Don’t dare challenge the Mitchells.
Fortunately for Kory, she’d been challenging one Mitchell most of her life. And the thought of challenging him one more time didn’t even make her blink.

• • •

Will removed the straw from his Coke and took a hearty drink from the rim, wishing for whiskey. Tuesday lunches with his mother at the Main Street Diner had a way of making him reach for a bottle of aspirin and an alcoholic chaser.

She tapped a boney finger on the table and glanced around the busy restaurant, satisfaction glistening in her eyes. She was a piece of work, no doubt counting up the number of lunch-hour patrons. She was the ever-shrewd businesswoman with a vested, financial interest in the property. Will admired that, even as he hated being made a spectacle. These weekly lunches with her sons were a manipulation. Knowing the town thrived on gossip, the place was packed with people hoping to overhear a juicy tidbit from the Mitchells’ table. It was his mother’s contribution to uptown business. The rest of the week, lunch receipts might be slow, but Tuesday, by God, would carry those days. The gleam in her eyes told Will she took all the credit.

“Logging truck traffic has increased on Clairburg Road,” she said in a stage whisper. “We need to do something about that.”

Mark smirked. “Tell him why.”

Will drank again, swallowing ice and all.
This ought to be good.

She glared at Mark. “Why don’t
you
since you find it so amusing?” She backhanded his bicep. “There is nothing funny about farm animals refusing to mate.”

Will closed his eyes and shook his head. Maybe there wasn’t anything funny about environmental stress impacting a farmer’s bottom line, but there was definitely something funny about his prim and proper mother talking about farm animals mating.

“We don’t own the road, Mother,” Will said. “So what would you suggest as a solution?”

“Some Barry White and candlelight might work.” Mark chuckled as he bit into his sandwich. He flinched even though Mother didn’t raise a hand this time.

“Be serious,” she hissed.

“Fine.” Mark put down his sandwich and picked up his napkin, wiping it across his mouth. “I say we open up that old logging road that runs through the back half of the golf course. A bunch of ancient golfers can deal with a few weeks of deafening noise better than pigs in heat.”

She hit him then.

Will laughed, but he nodded, too, because he agreed with Mark. “Sounds reasonable.”

Despite the low hum of conversation and the clang of gathered plates, Will heard the bell above the front door and instinctively looked up as Kory walked in. She stopped in the middle of the restaurant, sliding oversized sunglasses onto her head. Her other hand gripped a cell phone, and she appeared to be scanning the room, looking for someone. He had the oddest wish she was looking for him…until their eyes connected and her mouth twisted.

On second thought, hopefully she was looking for someone else.

But Kory didn’t look away, and she
definitely
didn’t look happy. Will shot a quick glance at his mother, who was stirring sweetener into her iced tea, and an impulsive flush of protectiveness sent him to his feet. His mother wouldn’t find Kory’s short-tempered treatment of him as amusing as he did, and if this impromptu visit had anything to do with the nursing home, it could be disastrous in his current company.

“William?” Mother looked up from the swirling liquid.

“Finish without me. There’s something I have to take care of.” And he was gone from the table, striding across the restaurant, meeting Kory at the midpoint. He smiled, overly bright. “Walk with me.”

“Why?” Of course she didn’t take his cue. Her brows bunched and her upper lip hitched.

“We have an audience.” He didn’t need to glance behind him to know his mother was on to him by now.

Fortunately, Kory had lived in Harmony Falls long enough to understand his short explanation, and she turned, silently walking alongside him until they reached the street and relative privacy.

“We need to talk,” she said, eyes locked on something farther up Main Street. “I called your office first, and Georgiana told me where you were.”

Georgiana’s disclosure was odd. Any other time, she micromanaged and guarded his itinerary. The thought raised his brows, but then he relaxed, deciding she was probably hoping to get him out of the barely productive lunch he always complained about.

He tucked his hands in his pants pockets, gathering the edges of his suit coat behind him. “What’s up?” he asked, starting aimlessly down the block, mildly concerned by Kory making an appearance.

She kept his pace, matching him stride for stride. The clip-clop of her shoes had him glancing at her feet. Shiny, sensible, round-toed heels peeked from beneath crisply pressed slacks. “We need money to buy new furniture for the home,” she said. “Anything usable is taken. What’s left is broken. Filling this nursing home is already a longshot, and I can’t even try without beds.”

Looking up and ahead again, Will veered right, off the main drag, and headed for the elementary school park and the stone bench, bearing his father’s name, gracing the butterfly garden on an edge of green. If he was going to be forced to talk about a lack of money, he needed to sit down.

With his hands pushing deeper into his pockets, he filled his lungs with warm summer air. “I’m sure you talked to Fran about this first.”

“Of course I talked to Fran. Going over the nursing home director’s head to the nursing home owner isn’t likely to win me friends, and believe me, I don’t need any more enemies.”

He stopped walking. She stopped, too. “Who’s giving you trouble?” he asked, looking at her, squinting into the sun until the skin around his eyes tightened. He didn’t like the idea of anyone but him giving her a hard time. Even in high school when other guys followed his lead it bothered him.