A Temporary Arrangement

Abby had the oddest feeling he was assessing her—truly looking at her—for the first time. “Go on, get inside,” he finally said.

“Thanks, Ethan. For this place…for the groceries. And for taking care of my dog. I definitely owe you.”

Inside the cabin she locked the door and leaned against it, wondering if the past few minutes had just been in her imagination.

Ethan didn’t really want her here. She was at his ranch only to help with meals and stay with his boy, Keifer, when Ethan went off on his late-evening research jaunts.

Which was fine. She had a great job waiting for her in California and she certainly wasn’t interested in any casual short-term flings.

Especially not with Ethan Matthews.

Dear Reader,

Writing the BLACKBERRY HILL MEMORIAL series has been such fun! Northern Wisconsin must be one of the loveliest places on earth, especially in the fall, when the leaves of the hardwoods are afire with brilliant color, in contrast to the dark green pines and sparkling, sapphire lakes. Author Lyn Cote lives on one of those stunning lakes, and visiting her and her husband each fall is an annual delight. She and I must hit every bookstore, garage sale and resale shop in the county…and I don’t even want to guess at all the calories we consume! Those Wisconsin visits were the inspiration for this series.

In A Temporary Arrangement, Blackberry Hill Memorial is facing the challenges common to many small-town hospitals, but there are darker problems in this idyllic place—hidden threats that jeopardize the future of the new director of nursing. And for a wildlife biologist who spends most of his time alone, threats come in the form of someone clearly bent on revenge and a lovely newcomer who just may steal his heart.

If you’ve missed the other two BLACKBERRY HILL MEMORIAL stories, Almost a Family and A Man She Can Trust, check for them at www.eHarlequin.com.

I love hearing from readers, and can be contacted at R. Rustand@juno.com or Box 2550, Cedar Rapids, Iowa 52406-2550, or at my Web sites, www.roxannerustand.com and www.booksbyrustand.com. You can find a free, downloadable cookbook at the first Web site, along with a contest, reviews and more. If you send a SASE to the P.O. box, I’ll be happy to send you some bookmarks.

Wishing you the best for your own happily ever after!

Roxanne Rustand

A Temporary Arrangement

Roxanne Rustand

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning author Roxanne Rustand’s love of romance began when a friend gave her a wonderful novel and dared her to put it down. She did—at four o’clock the next morning. Completely hooked, she read romance for several years before starting to write one of her own. Roxanne is a registered dietitian with a master’s degree in nutrition, and works at a residential psychiatric facility. As a wife and mother of three, she tries hard to balance family, career and writing commitments…. even when it means retreating to a hotel for the weekend to meet her deadlines.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

With many thanks to my dear friend, author Lyn Cote, and her husband, Steve, for their hospitality during our wonderful “writers’ retreat weekends” in northern Wisconsin. And to Diane, Jacquie and Pamela for your invaluable friendship and support.

I feel so very blessed to know you all.

This one is for you, Emily, with thanks for all the wonderful treats and lunches and suppers you made while I was locked away in my office. You’re the sweetest daughter ever!

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER ONE

ABBY CAHILL breathed in the crisp, pine-scented air, then stepped inside Blackberry Hill Memorial Hospital to start a new chapter in her life.

The retiring director of nursing, Grace Fisher-Edwards, met her inside the door with a broad smile. “I was afraid the tourist traffic would slow you down, but you’re right on time.” She ushered Abby down the hall to her office. “June can be a real bear around here.”

Abby laughed. “On par with five o’clock rush hour in Detroit, except the scenery is much, much prettier.”

“If you can see past the vehicles, that is.” Grace snorted as she settled behind her cluttered desk and shifted a stack of files to one side. “During the summer, our population triples.”

“And I think every last one of those tourists is on Main right now.” Grinning, Abby searched through her shoulder bag for her notebook and a pen. “I sure wish I could’ve come a few days earlier, but our nursing students’ graduation was on Saturday and then I still had to pack.”

“You must be exhausted.”

“No…though I do look forward to settling into my new place.” Abby sat back in her chair and uncapped her pen.

Grace’s eyes filled with concern. “I gather you haven’t stopped by the Hawthorne Apartments.”

“Not yet.” Abby flipped open the notebook, her pen poised over its pristine surface. “Meeting with you was my biggest priority, believe me.”

“The manager tried to call you yesterday. He even called the hospital, hoping Erin or I would know how to reach you.”

Abby stilled. “My home phone was disconnected yesterday morning, and I have a new cell. But there shouldn’t be a problem—I’ve signed a lease.”

“There was a fire over the weekend.”

“Oh, my,” Abby said faintly. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No, but half your building was gutted, leaving seven families homeless…and now you, I guess.” Grace pushed a piece of paper across the desk. “I’ve done some checking, but there aren’t many apartments in this area. I’m afraid those displaced renters have already taken what little there was.”

“I’m glad I left most of my things in storage for the summer.” Abby considered the situation for a moment. “Maybe I can find a cabin to rent. Or even a motel, until the apartment building’s livable.”

“I’m not sure it ever will be.” Grace worried her lower lip. “We’ve heard rumors for years about the owner wanting to raze the entire complex so he can put up fancy condos.”

Dread settled in the pit of Abby’s stomach. “What are my options?”

“Even vacation lodging is hard to come by during the tourist season. Most places are reserved months ahead. But I did find a few possibilities.” Grace’s dubious expression didn’t bode well. “And you’re sure welcome to stay with Warren and me. We leave on our wedding trip in the morning, but you could stay on through tomorrow night.”

“You two just got married—what?—this past weekend. I’d hate to move in on you.” The pink tinging Grace’s cheeks made Abby smile. “Especially with you getting ready to leave.”

“I wish I could offer you more, but my house has been sold and the contractors start on Warren’s place Thursday morning. Once they tear up the plumbing and old wiring, I’m afraid it won’t be habitable until they finish in July.”

“Please, don’t even give it a thought. I’m only here for a few months, so I can make do with just about anything.”

She scanned Grace’s list. A motel along the lake with weekly rates. Several small resorts with cabins. A furnished house for rent.

But the bigger issue was her new job and the fact that Grace—the person best suited to groom her temporary successor—was leaving town tomorrow.

“I’d rather spend as much time as I can with you. I can figure out my housing problems later.”

“Are you sure?” Grace sounded doubtful. “With your background, you should have no difficulty taking over. Erin tells me you were a top student when you two were in training together. And your article in the Journal of Hospital Nursing last year was amazing.”

“Psychology of Patient Care in the Low Income Setting” represented three years of research and had taken her at least sixteen drafts. Reprints were now required reading in several nursing programs across the United States and would be included in a college textbook released next spring.

But that article—and the others she’d written—provided no more practical knowledge on running a nursing department than Wuthering Heights.

“As you know, it’s been a while since I worked in a hospital.” Abby managed a light laugh. “I may have been teaching nursing for years, but I’m going to need every bit of advice you can offer.”

“And I’ll be glad to give it. But first, I really think you’d better take a few hours to look for a place to stay.” Grace glanced at her watch. “Come back at, say, four o’clock?”

“But my orientation—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll still be here when you get back and we can stay as late as we need to.” Tapping the files on her desk, Grace gave her a grandmotherly smile. “Last month, we revised the facility-wide policy and procedure manuals, and they’ll explain every last detail of running this place. Coupled with the files I’ve pulled together for you, you’ll have everything you need to know.”

Updated policy and procedure manuals. Complete files. The words were a balm to Abby’s left-brained soul. She felt the tension in her shoulders ease. “Sounds like this should be a smooth transition, then. Thanks.”

“Everyone is looking forward to having you here.” The hint of admiration in Grace’s voice was unmistakable. “And though you’ll only be here for a short while, I know you’ll be a great asset.”

Three months, to be precise, until the new permanent director of nursing arrived. Surely she could handle a small, quiet hospital like this one for three months, and the experience would be perfect research for her next article.

Abby smiled. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve looked forward to enjoying the slower pace up here.”

“Slower pace?” Grace repeated, a faint, enigmatic smile on her lips. “I think we’ll have a lot to discuss before this day is over.”

AFTER TWO HOURS of fruitless searching, Abby realized just how right Grace had been about this busy resort town.

It had all seemed so simple while she was packing. After the graduation ceremony, a formal tea at her mother’s Rosewood Lakes estate and a quiet farewell gathering at her father’s country club, she’d savored every moment of the beautiful drive north to the quaint Wisconsin town of Blackberry Hill.

She hadn’t been prepared for the bumper-to-propeller traffic during the final two hours of the trip or the crowds attending the Blackberry Hill Arts Festival. Not to mention there wasn’t a single place to stay within fifty miles.

Every possibility on Grace’s list was filled, along with three others she’d found in the local newspaper.

Scooping her hair away from her damp forehead, she tugged at the collar of her limp cotton blouse and knocked on the door of her last resort: an old house with a sagging front porch at the end of Bailey Street.

A minute later the door swung open to reveal a bony and bent eighty-something man with a scowl on his face.

“I’m not buying anything,” he snapped.

“I’m here about the room,” she said as he started to close the door. “Please—is it still available?”

The man in front of her was as charming as his advertisement.

She’d seen the scrawled note tacked to the bulletin board of the grocery store downtown, hidden beneath a flyer advertising Lawn Care—Good Rates.

Efficiency available by the month. Private entrance. No smoking. No drinking. No guests of the opposite sex. No pets. No noise. One month rent deposit. Hubert L. Bickham, 234 Bailey Street.

Hubert L. Bickham’s scowl deepened as he studied her from head to foot with narrowed eyes. “I don’t allow any hanky-panky. No trouble.” He jerked a thumb toward the side of the house, where she’d seen exterior stairs leading to the second floor of the small one-and-a-half-story house. “Those stairs go right past my bedroom, and any noise wakes me up. So no tromping up them stairs at all hours, missy.”

Despite the heat, the frustration and her need to get back to the hospital, Abby had to struggle to keep a straight face.

No one had ever accused her of leading a wild life. And right now, with her hair curly as Medusa’s in the humidity, this old guy imagined she could find someone to get wild with.

She held up her hand in a Scout salute. “I swear.”

He chewed at his lower lip. “You got the deposit?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ain’t a big town, if you’re lookin’ for work. You got a job?”

“Blackberry Hill Memorial Hospital. I’m the new director of nursing. The interim director, I should say,” Abby added carefully.

He appeared mollified at that. “Grace’s job.”

“Exactly. Last month I leased one of the Hawthorne Apartments near the hospital but—”

“Fire, first floor.” He folded his arms across his thin chest and gave her a long, skeptical look. “They checked you out before letting you sign?”

“They did,” Abby assured him. “Credit check, work history. Everything.”

He thought for a while, searching her face. “I suppose you can have the room, long as you understand the rules and pay on time.”

Suppressing the impulse to kiss his whiskery cheek, she quickly read the contract and signed her name, then wrote a check for two months’ rent. “You won’t regret this. I promise.”

He appeared to regret it within minutes—glaring at her from his front window as she lugged her suitcase and several boxes up the sidewalk and around to the stairs. He thumped on his ceiling with—she suspected—a broom handle when one of the boxes slipped from her grasp and hit the floor.

Her new landlord appeared to have a major personality disorder. The apartment was cramped and dark. Yet she wouldn’t inconvenience Grace and she’d just bought herself time to find a better place. How hard could that be?

TWO WEEKS LATER she knew. Finding a better place wasn’t hard. It was impossible. And working in an idyllic north woods town certainly didn’t give her tranquility. Not when she was overseeing the nursing staff of a hospital that had been on the brink of closure less than a year ago.

She’d talked to Grace for hours on her first evening in town. The older woman had even stopped in at the hospital the next morning before she and Warren flew south. She’d run a tight ship and had left her office in perfect order, but every day brought new challenges given the tight budget and shortage of nurses.

“Bad day, professor?” Erin Reynolds, the hospital administrator, smiled sympathetically as she watched Abby pore over the nurses’ work schedule on her desk.

“Interesting.” Abby grinned back at her.

After graduating together with bachelor’s degrees in nursing, they’d gone their separate ways—Erin had eventually gone back to school for a degree in hospital administration, while Abby had chosen graduate school and a career in teaching at the college level.

They’d kept in touch through Christmas cards and occasional e-mails, though, and Erin had been the one to let Abby know about this temporary position.

“I just need a magic wand and a few more nurses,” Abby continued. “Marcia’s home with strep throat. Carl’s on vacation until Monday. Gwen agreed to pull a double shift today, but I’m trying to avoid that, because she works tomorrow, too.”

Erin came farther in and wearily rested both hands on the back of a chair. Five months pregnant, she was as lovely as ever with her short, glossy dark hair and delicate features, if somewhat drawn and pale. “Any luck with the ad?”

“A half dozen calls and several applications.”

“Good.” Erin stifled a yawn. “I’ve asked Madge to run it in the Green Bay and Milwaukee papers this weekend, too.”

Erin was just two years older than Abby, and they’d hit it off from the first time they’d met. Now, Abby looked at her old friend with growing concern.

The hospital was in the midst of renovation and expansion efforts that hadn’t been going smoothly. With the three children Erin had adopted before marrying Dr. Reynolds last winter, her job and her pregnancy, she looked ready to drop in her tracks.

Dr. Jill Edwards, on the other hand, was due the month after Erin, but she barely showed yet and seemed to have boundless energy. Though without other children to contend with, she probably got much more rest.

“So, is it true you and Connor have never had any weekend time alone?” Abby asked. Erin and Connor had flown to the Bahamas in late January for a beachside wedding with all three children as attendants. “Not even on your wedding trip?”

“We had adjoining rooms. And—” she grinned as she patted her stomach “—we occasionally locked the door between those rooms.”

“Not quite the same,” Abby said. “I’m thinking you need some absolute peace and quiet. This weekend.”

Erin snorted. “I don’t think that’ll happen. Our sitter is off on her senior high class trip this week. Connor’s on call this weekend and he’s also covering Jill’s practice while she’s out of town. He’ll probably end up sleeping at the hospital, so it’ll be just me, the kids, and my round-the-clock morning sickness. I can’t believe the nausea has continued past the first trimester.”

“So this could be a weekend to pamper yourself. Maybe I could take the kids—”

“You?” Erin’s eyes were round. “Are you feeling okay?”

“How hard could it be?” She’d gone out for pizza a couple times with the Reynolds crew, and she’d also been to a few of the boys’ baseball games. The three kids all seemed, well, manageable enough for an afternoon.

“This is so sweet of you. A whole weekend to myself just sounds like heaven.”

Abby had meant to volunteer for a few hours, but she couldn’t resist Erin’s gratitude. “Whatever I might’ve said about lacking maternal instincts, I could do it. I’m a nurse, after all. We’re nurturing types.” Was she? Her ex-fiancé, Jared, sure hadn’t thought so. “And heaven knows, I owe you,” she added. “Coming up here is the perfect opportunity for some practical experience before I start teaching again.”

Abby ignored a sudden vision of her landlord Hubert’s reaction to all of this. “You could sleep in. Relax.”

“As much as I’d love it, I’m afraid the kids are really energetic. I swear, sometimes they could wear out the patience of a saint.”

The children had been adopted shortly before Erin’s first husband left her for another woman. All three had come from troubled backgrounds, but Erin had already done wonders with them. Surely she was exaggerating.

“And I’m not exaggerating,” Erin added dryly. “No matter what I tell them, they’ll push the limit with anyone new—that’s why Haley is still our one and only babysitter. The others refuse to come back.”

“If I can handle this hospital job, I can handle three kids. And if things get really wild, you’re only a phone call away,” Abby added firmly.

“Well…” Erin hesitated for a moment, then dissolved into laughter. “Deal. Though I’ll understand completely, if you decide to give them back early.”

“Not a chance. The boys, Lily and I are going to have a great time.”

WHAT EXACTLY, did one do with three kids under the age of eleven to make sure they had a “great time”?

Connor dropped them off after supper on Friday. Abby took them to a movie, for pizza, then finally to the video store on Main Street.

There, eleven-year-old Drew had argued for renting some sort of video game for the Xbox he’d brought along. Eight-year-old Tyler had begged for a different game, one Drew said was dumb. And ten-year-old Lily had shyly asked for an old Harry Potter movie she’d seen at least a million times, according to Tyler.

Abby’s plans for holding a vote fizzled when the boys stood toe-to-toe and both proclaimed it was their turn to choose. Abby ended up renting all three and praying for peace.

Now, back at the stairway to her small upstairs apartment, Abby held a finger to her lips. “My landlord is elderly and needs his sleep. We have to be very quiet, okay?”

Lily nodded and tiptoed up. Tyler stumbled on the third step and yelped as his knee struck the edge of the riser. Drew, distracted by a motorcycle coming down the street, bumbled into him and said a few words he must have learned in inner city Chicago during his earlier days. The video he’d been carrying bounced down the stairs to the grass.

Sure enough, the lights in Hubert’s first-floor bedroom blazed on a second later and he appeared at his window to peer out into the dark.

“Just me, Mr. Bickham. Sorry,” Abby called.

Shooing the kids ahead of her, she held a finger to her lips again and gave them a conspiratorial smile. “He’s got very, very good ears,” she whispered. “Let’s pretend we’re secret agents and see how quiet we can be.”

Upstairs, the kids seemed surprised by the efficiency’s small living area, dominated by a threadbare couch and single chair. The tiny kitchenette in one corner. The queen-size bed she’d angled into another corner, and had covered with her jewel-toned quilt and shams in an effort to make the place more homey.

“This is real pretty,” Lily murmured. “But there’s no place for us to sleep.”

“That’s why Connor dropped off your sleeping bags and duffels this morning. I figure you can each camp in a different corner. You’re welcome to make tents out of chairs and my extra blankets.”

Tyler grinned. “Cool.”

“I’m over by the TV, and I get it first,” Drew announced. He pawed through one of the duffels and pulled out a black plastic box with cords and controllers dangling from it like an electronic octopus. In seconds he was behind the small TV, figuring out the connections.

“That’s not fair,” Tyler complained. “We didn’t even draw for it.”

Draw for it? Abby realized she should have managed the first TV rights equitably. “How about giving Drew an hour, then you and Lily can draw straws for who goes next?”

Lily, who’d settled on the couch with a Harry Potter hardcover book that weighed almost as much as she did, shot Abby a look of gratitude, then dropped her gaze to the open book in her lap.

Tyler stuck out his lower lip. “Drew’s always first, just ’cause he’s bigger. And if Lily wins, that’s not fair, ’cause her dumb movie lasts forever.”

Reminded of her one—and only—disastrous babysitting job as a teen, Abby smiled. “Then how about helping me bake some cookies while you wait? You could be the one to decorate them before they go in the oven.”

The television blared to life—a cacophony of gunshots and screams that nearly shook the rafters before Drew found the volume button on the remote.

Startled, Lily jerked and her heavy book slid to the floor.

“Jeez, Drew. Wake up the dead, will you?” Tyler snapped.

And from downstairs they heard muffled curses…then the thud! thud! thud! of Hubert’s broom handle beneath them.

Abby managed a reassuring smile as she motioned with her hands for quiet. They were good, normal kids. They couldn’t help making noise. But this whole idea had obviously been a mistake.

She already knew she’d be hearing from Hubert in the morning…and the news wouldn’t be good.

CHAPTER TWO

DELAYING HER INEVITABLE confrontation with Hubert, Abby bustled around her little kitchen, cleaning up after feeding the kids her favorite malted-milk waffles, scrambled eggs with cheese and fresh-squeezed orange juice.