Peter smiled. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“And I would rather go to bed.”

No sooner had Bethany uttered the words than her cheeks turned an electrifying shade of pink. “I mean my bed. Alone. To sleep,” she added with an almost desperate note in her voice.

Peter let her off the hook. “Relax, Bethany. I didn’t take that to be an invitation.”

She was relieved, and yet…not so relieved. “Why not?” she demanded. “Do you find me unattractive?”

He looked at her. “If anyone could pull me out of my workaholic state, it would be you.” He paused, adding, “As long as you promised not to launch into another debate in the middle of a heated embrace.”

Flustered and pleased, Bethany was at a loss for words. She didn’t want to encourage him.

Yet if she were being totally honest with herself, she didn’t want to completely discourage him, either.

MARIE FERRARELLA

This USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award-winning author has written more than one hundred and fifty novels, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the first book of the Wilder saga, featuring two brothers, two sisters and a hospital. We first meet the siblings at a sad occasion, the funeral of their father, Dr James Wilder, a man much loved by the community. James was an old-fashioned kind of doctor, and “his” hospital, Walnut River General, has attracted a handful of excellent doctors, two of whom are Peter Wilder and his younger sister, Ella.

This is Peter’s book. The forty-year-old doctor is a carbon copy of his father and, with his father’s passing, he finds himself suddenly filling shoes he feels can never be filled. He also finds himself in the middle of a battle. A major conglomerate is trying to initiate a hospital takeover, and size and money are on its side. The conglomerate also has Bethany Holloway, the newest member of the hospital’s board of directors, a smart, driven woman who thinks Peter is standing in the way of progress and the future. Battle lines are drawn, then blurred as each finds themselves also involved in a war of emotions, because the immovable object and the irresistible force are very drawn to one another.

I hope you enjoy this story and come back for more. And, as ever, I thank you for reading and wish you someone to love who loves you back.

Marie Ferrarella

Falling for the MD

MARIE FERRARELLA

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To

Gail Chasan

and the joy of family sagas

Chapter One

He’d known this day was coming for a long time.

Death was not a surprise to him. As a doctor, it was all part of the circle of life. But while he always concentrated on the positive, Dr. Peter Wilder could never fully ignore the fact that death was seated at the very same table as life.

His mother, Alice, had died five years ago, a victim of cancer. Now that death had come to rob him for a second time, though, he felt alone, despite the fact that the cemetery was crowded. His three siblings were there, along with all the friends and admirers that his father, Dr. James Wilder, had garnered over the years as a physician and Chief of Staff at Walnut River General Hospital and, toward the end, as the chairman of the board of directors. Despite the cold, gloomy January morning and the persistent snow flurries, there had been an enormous turnout to pay last respects to a man who had touched so very many lives.

Despite all of his professional obligations, James had never failed to make time for his family, was always there for all the important occasions that meant something to his sons and daughters.

Now both his mother and his father were gone, the latter leaving behind incredibly large shoes to fill.

Peter had become the patriarch. As the oldest, he would be the one to whom David and Ella and Anna would turn.

Well, maybe not Anna, he reconsidered, glancing over toward her.

They were gathered around the grave. Typically, while he, David and Ella were on one side of his father’s final resting place, Anna had positioned herself opposite them. Ten years his junior, Anna was the family’s official black sheep.

While he, David and Ella had followed their father’s footsteps, Anna’s feet had not quite fit the mold. He knew that she had tried, managing to go so far as being accepted into a medical school. But then she’d dropped out in her freshman year.

Anna didn’t have the head for medicine, or the heart. So she had gone a different route, earning an MBA and finally finding herself when she entered the world of finance.

But there was an even greater reason why the rest of them considered Anna to be the black sheep. His father had been fond of referring to her as “the chosen one,” but the simple truth of it was, Anna had been a foundling, abandoned as an infant on the steps of the hospital to which the senior Wilder had dedicated his entire adult life.

Since James Wilder lived and breathed all things that concerned Walnut River General, it somehow seemed natural that he should adopt the only baby who had ever been left there.

Or so he’d heard his father say to his mother when he was trying to win her over to his decision. His mother tried, but he knew that she could never quite make herself open her heart to this child whose own parents hadn’t wanted her. Maybe because of this, because of the way his mother felt, his father had done his best to make it up to Anna. He had overcompensated.

For years, James went out of his way to make Anna feel accepted and a wanted member of the family. In his efforts to keep Anna from feeling unloved, James Wilder often placed his adopted daughter first.

Despite all his good intentions, his father’s actions were not without consequences. While they were growing up, Peter and his siblings were resentful of the special treatment Anna received. Especially David, who began to act out in order to win his own brand of attention from their father.

Slowly, so slowly that Peter wasn’t even certain when it actually happened, it became a matter of their breaking into two separate camps—he, David and Ella on the one hand, and Anna, by herself, on the other. The schism continued to grow despite all of their father’s efforts to the contrary. Time and again, James would try to rectify the situation, asking them each what was wrong and what he could do to fix it, only to be told by a tight-lipped child that everything was fine.

But it wasn’t.

He, David and Ella felt that Anna had their father’s ear and the bulk of his love and attention. At the same time Anna, he surmised as he looked back on things now, probably felt like the odd woman out, doomed to remain on the outside of the family circle, forever looking in.

Maybe now would be a good time to put a stop to it, Peter thought. To change direction and start fresh. As a tribute to his father, who simply wanted his family to all get along. They weren’t all that different, really, the four of them. And Anna had loved James Wilder as much as any of them.

Snow was dusting Peter’s dark brown hair, making it appear almost white. He brushed some of it aside. The sudden movement had Ella looking up at him. Ella, with her doelike eyes and small mouth that was usually so quick to smile shyly. Ella, whose dark eyes right now looked almost haunted with sadness.

Leaning her head toward him, she whispered, “I can’t believe he’s really gone. I thought he’d be with us forever, like some force of nature.”

Standing on her other side, David couldn’t help overhearing. “Well, he really is gone. They’re about to lower the coffin,” he murmured bitterly.

Ella’s head jerked up and she looked at David, stunned at the raw pain in his tone, not just over the loss of their father, but the opportunity to ever again make things right between them. James and David had not been on the warmest terms at the time of the senior Wilder’s death and Peter was certain that David chafed over words he had left unsaid simply because “there was always tomorrow.”

Now tomorrow would never come.

Peter turned away, his attention on the highly polished casket slowly being lowered into the ground. With each inch that came between them, he felt fresh waves of loss wash over him.

Goodbye, Dad. I wish we’d had more time together. There’s so much I still need to know, so much I still want to ask you.

Peter waited until the coffin was finally placed at the bottom of the grave, then he stepped forward and dropped the single red rose he’d been holding. It fell against the coffin and then, like the tears of a weeping mourner, slid off to the side.

“Rest well, Dad,” Peter said, struggling to keep his voice from cracking. “You’ve earned it.” And then he moved aside, letting Ella have her moment as she added her rose to his, her wishes to his.

One by one, the mourners all filed by, people who were close to the man, people who worshipped the doctor, dropping roses and offering warm words for one of the finest men any of them had ever known.

Peter had expected Anna to follow either David or, more likely since she’d once been close to her, Ella. But she stood off to the side, patiently waiting for everyone else to go by before she finally moved forward herself.

He should have realized that she wanted to be alone with their father one last time.

Last but not least, right, Anna?

She was saying something, but her voice was so low when she spoke that he couldn’t hear her. He caught a glimpse of the tears glistening in her eyes even though she tried to avert her head so her grief would remain as private as her parting words.

Peter felt a hint of guilt pricking his conscience. This was his sister. Adopted, yes, but raised with him from infancy. She’d been only a few days old at most when his father had brought her into their house.

“I brought you an early birthday present, Alice,” the senior Wilder had announced as he came through the front door.

Until the day he died, Peter would remember the look of surprise, disbelief and then something more that he couldn’t begin to fathom wash across his mother’s face when she came into the living room to see what it was that his father had brought home for her. He was ten at the time and David was six. His mother had just crawled out of a depression that had her, for a time, all but confined to her bed. He remembered how afraid he’d been back then, afraid that there was something wrong with his mother. He’d fully expected her to fall head over heels in love with the baby—that’s what women did, he’d thought at the time. They loved babies.

But there had been a tightness around her mouth as she took the bundle from his father.

“She’s very pretty, isn’t she, boys?” his father had said, trying to encourage them to become part of the acceptance process.

“She’s noisy,” David had declared, scowling. “And she smells.”

His father had laughed. “She just needs changing.”

“Can we change her for a pony?” David wanted to know, picking up on the word.

“’Fraid not, David. What do you think of her, Peter?” his father had asked, turning toward him.

“She’s very little” had been his only comment about this new addition. He remembered watching his mother instead of the baby. Watching and worrying. His father had once said that he was born old, and there was some truth to that. He couldn’t remember ever being carefree.

“That’s right,” his father had agreed warmly. “And we need to look out for her.” His father had placed his large, capable hand on his shoulder, silently conveying that he was counting on him. “You need to look after her. You’re her big brother.”

He remembered nodding solemnly, not happy about the assignment but not wanting to disappoint his father, either. He also recalled seeing his mother frown as she took the baby from his father and walked into the other room.

And so began a rather unsteady, continuing family dynamic. David saw Anna as competition, while Peter regardedn Anna as a burden he was going to have to carry. And things never really changed.

For one reason or another, things were never quite harmonious among them. Whenever he would extend the olive branch, Anna would hold him suspect. And whenever she would seek common ground with him, he’d be too busy to meet her halfway. Things between her and David were in an even worse state. Only she and Ella got along.

And so the years melted away, wrapped in misunderstanding and hurt feelings, and the gap continued to widen.

It was time to put a stop to it.

“Anna,” he called to her.

David and Ella, standing nearby, both turned to look at their older brother. About to melt back into the crowd, Anna looked up and in Peter’s direction. The wind whipped her light blond hair into her eyes. She blinked, pushing the strand back behind her ear, a silent question in her pale blue eyes.

Peter cut the distance between them. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was on borrowed time, that there was a finite amount of it during which he could bring peace to the family. He had no idea where the feeling had come from.

However, once he was beside her, words seemed to desert him. Ordinarily, he always knew how to sympathize, how to comfort. His bedside manner was one of his strongest points. He had absolutely no trouble placing himself in his patient’s drafty hospital gown, understanding exactly what he or she was going through. Like his father before him, Peter’s capacity for empathy was enormous, and his patients loved him for it.

But this was different. This was almost too personal. This came with baggage and history. His and Anna’s.

Peter did his best to sound warm when he spoke to her, knowing that she had to be feeling the same sort of pain he was.

“There’s going to be a reception at my house.” David and Ella were standing directly behind him. He wished one of them would say something. “I didn’t know if you knew.” Once the words were out, he realized it sounded like a backhanded invitation.

“I didn’t,” she replied quietly. Her eyes moved from David’s face to Ella’s to his again.

She looked as if she wanted to leave, Peter thought. He couldn’t really blame her. He knew there’d be less tension if she did. But then again, it wasn’t right to drive her away.

Peter tried again. “I thought it might help everyone to get together, swap a few stories about Dad. Everyone seems to have a hundred of them,” he added, forcing a smile to his lips.

He waited for her response, but it was David who spoke next. “Sounds great, Peter, but I’m booked on a flight that leaves in a couple of hours.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve just got enough time to get to the airport and go through security.”

“Take a later flight,” Peter urged.

He knew that David could well afford to pay the difference for changing his plans. The younger man was, after all, a highly sought after plastic surgeon. People magazine had referred to David as the surgeon to the stars in a recent article. He was certainly the family’s success story—at least, financially. In contrast, Ella had just recently completed her residency. And God knew that he wasn’t making a pile of money, Peter thought. About forty percent of his patients had no health insurance and could barely make token payments for their treatment, not that that would stop him from being available to them if the need arose.

However, Anna probably did quite well for herself in the business world. Her clothes certainly looked expensive, as did the car she drove. She never elaborated about her job, though, so it was left to Peter’s imagination to fill in the blanks.

David shook his head. “You know I would, but I’ve got a surgery scheduled first thing in the morning. It was a last-minute booking,” he explained. “Flying always tires me out and I need a good eight hours to be at my best.” He paused for a moment, looking at his older brother. It was obvious that he did feel somewhat guilty about grieving and running. “Are you okay with that?”

No, Peter thought, he wasn’t okay with that. But that was life. There was no point in creating a fuss, so he nodded and said, “I understand. Duty calls.”

Squeezing through the opening that David had inadvertently left for her, Anna was quick to say, “I have to be going, too.”

She deliberately avoided Peter’s eyes, knowing that they would bore right through her, not that it really mattered. She’d come here for her father, not for any of them. She knew what they thought of her. She’d hoped that their father’s passing might finally bring them together, but that obviously wasn’t happening. In their eyes, she knew she would always be an outsider. There was no getting away from it.

“There’s a meeting I need to prepare for,” she told him.

She was lying, Peter thought. Anna always looked extremely uncomfortable when she lied.

But he wasn’t about to press. “You’ll be missed,” he told her.

Now who was lying? he asked himself.

She debated leaving the comment alone and retreating while the going was good. But she couldn’t resist saying, “I sincerely doubt that.” She saw both her brothers and Ella look at her in surprise. Was the truth that surprising? Or was it because she’d said something? “No one will even miss me.”

“I will,” Ella told her.

It was Anna’s turn to be surprised. She looked at her sister. Only a year separated them and if she was close to anyone within the family, with the exception of her father, it was Ella. So much so that she’d taken time off from her impossibly hectic schedule to attend Ella’s graduation. Aside from that, she’d only been home for the holidays and her father’s birthday.

Now that he was gone, she doubted she’d be back at all. What was the point? There was no reason to return to this den of strangers. She had a feeling they would be relieved as well not to have to pretend that they cared whether or not she visited.

But for now, she smiled at Ella, grateful for the sentiment the youngest Wilder had expressed. Anna squeezed her sister’s hand. “Thanks, El. But I still have to go.”

“An hour?” Peter was surprised to hear himself say. Maybe it was the look on Ella’s face that had prompted him to try to get Anna to remain. “Just stay an hour.” He saw her reluctance to even entertain the suggestion. “For Dad, not for me.”

“You can stay for both of us,” David told her flippantly. Embracing Ella, he kissed his younger sister on the cheek affectionately, then gripped Peter’s hand. “I’ll be in touch,” he promised his brother. And then he nodded at Anna, his demeanor polite but definitely cooler. “Anna, it was good to see you again.”

Peter saw Anna’s shoulders stiffen.

So much for a truce. Maybe some other time, he told himself.

He began to guide Ella to the parking lot and the limousine that had brought them here.

He didn’t see Bethany Holloway approaching until she was almost at his elbow. Beautiful women occasionally captured his attention, and this woman was a classic beauty, with porcelain skin, luminous blue eyes and breathtaking red hair.

Wanting to get Peter’s attention, Bethany lightly placed a gloved hand on his arm. Surprised, he turned to look in her direction.

“Oh Peter, I just wanted to say again how sorry I am about your father. Everyone loved him.”

That much he knew was true. To know James Wilder was to admire him. His father had had a way of making people feel that they mattered, that he was actively interested in their welfare. In exchange for that, people would regard him with affection. It was a gift.

“Thank you.”

He was trying to be gracious, but his words rang a little hollow. Maybe it was selfish, but for a moment, he wanted to be alone with his grief. And yet, he knew he couldn’t. He didn’t have that luxury afforded to him. No matter his emotions, he needed to hold it together so that everyone else could mourn as they needed to.

It certainly wouldn’t help Ella cope with her grief if she saw him break down, he thought.

“But maybe,” Bethany went on, falling into step beside him, “in a way this might have been easier for your father.”

“‘This’?” Peter echoed.

Bethany nodded. “His passing.”

Peter stopped walking and looked at her sharply. He wasn’t following her logic. “What?”

Bethany looked as if his reaction wasn’t what she’d expected. “Think how Dr. Wilder would have felt, having Northeastern Healthcare take over.”

Peter felt as if his brain had just been submerged in a tank of water. None of this was making any sense to him. “Take over what?”

Bethany looked at Peter in surprise. “Why, Walnut River General, of course.”

Chapter Two

For a moment, it was so quiet Peter could hear the snow falling, the snowflakes touching down. He was only slightly aware that both Anna and David were still standing nearby.

“What are you saying?” Before Bethany could answer, he looked at Ella. His sister looked completely encased in her grief. He didn’t want her subjected to anything more right now. “You look cold, Ella. Why don’t you go on to the limousine and wait for us inside?” he suggested.

In a haze, Ella nodded and left the group.

Wilder hadn’t heard, Bethany realized. What’s more, he looked obviously upset by the news. She hadn’t thought he would be. As far as she saw it, the proposed takeover was good news. Only people who resisted progress would view it as anything else.

Still, a qualm of guilt slid over her.

“I’m saying that it’s official,” Bethany explained. “NHC came out and announced that they were interested in acquiring Walnut River General.” Her smile widened. “They’re saying that it would be an excellent addition to its family of hospitals. Your father helped turn the hospital into a highly regarded institution, and he did a wonderful job,” she added.

Maybe too wonderful, Peter thought. Otherwise, they would have continued operating under the radar.

“He didn’t do it to have the hospital pillaged by an impersonal corporation,” Peter declared, feeling his temper suddenly rise. If he needed proof of the organization’s insensitivity to the human condition, he had it now. The conglomerate was putting in a bid before his father’s body was barely cold. “Those sharks wouldn’t know what a family was if they were hit over the head with one.”

“Don’t hold back, Peter,” David urged wryly. “Tell us what you really think.”

Bethany glanced at the younger Dr. Wilder. She knew he wasn’t part of the hospital staff, but she’d expected to hear something more in favor of what seemed inevitable than a joke. After all, a plastic surgeon, especially one of David Wilder’s caliber, could appreciate a highly efficient organization.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, like the bearer of bad news instead of good, Bethany cleared her throat. “Well, anyway, the board is going to be meeting tomorrow morning about this,” she told Peter. “I thought I’d give you a heads-up, seeing as how this will be your first time and all.”

She was referring to the position on the board he’d assumed. Not his father’s position—that had gone to Wallace Ford. With Wallace assuming the chairmanship, that had left a seat open and, out of respect for James Wilder, the board had offered it to Peter. He’d accepted it out of a sense of responsibility and not without more than a little dread. He simply wanted to be a doctor. The seat on the board would get in the way, but for now he had no choice.

Peter nodded in response to her words, trying not to look as disturbed by the news as he felt. Right now, he was here for his father and that was all that mattered. There was time enough to worry about this newest development later.

“Thank you.” Realizing how stiff he sounded, Peter made an effort to be more congenial. “Will I see you at the reception?”

A trace of Bethany’s smile entered her eyes as she answered, “Of course. Again—” she took hold of Peter’s hand and looked up into his eyes “—I am very sorry for your loss.” She glanced over toward the limousine where Ella sat waiting. “And your sister’s,” she added.

At least it was death that had taken the man from Peter and his siblings, she couldn’t help thinking. Her parents had simply left her years ago—if they had ever been there to begin with.

A quick smile flashed across her generous mouth. “I’ll see you later,” she promised, and then she slipped back into the dispersing crowd as they all made their way to their separate vehicles.

David stood beside Peter for a moment, watching Bethany’s back as she walked away. His thoughtful expression hinted that he was envisioning what she might look like beneath the white winter coat she had on.

“Well, that’s a new face.” He turned back to his brother, for the moment ignoring Anna’s presence. “Nice structure. Good cheekbones.”

Anna made a small, annoyed noise. “Do you have to look at everyone like a work in progress?” Her disapproval was evident despite the fact that she kept her voice low.

David’s shoulders moved in a half shrug beneath his camel hair overcoat. “Sorry, occupational hazard. It’s the artist in me. Although—” he addressed the rest of his remark to Peter “—there doesn’t seem to be anything to improve on with that one. Who is she?”

“Bethany Holloway,” Peter answered. His and Bethany’s paths had crossed perhaps half-a-dozen times, perhaps less, since she had come to Walnut River. “She’s on the board.”

Mild interest traced itself over David’s handsome features. “New member, I imagine. As I remember it, the board was a collection of old fossils.”

Peter laughed shortly. “Not anymore. Things have changed since you left for the West coast. Dad’s been the oldest one on the board for a while now. Or he was,” he corrected himself. God, but it was hard thinking of his father in the past tense. “Some of the others retired.

“Bethany’s an efficiency expert. She’s been on the board for as long as she’s been in town. About six months or so, I think.” Peter thought of what he was going to be facing tomorrow. “I guess I’d better start becoming more involved with the business end of things now that I’m part of it.”

David looked impressed. “You’re taking over Dad’s old seat?”

Peter shook his head. “No, not exactly. Dad was the chairman. I’ve got a long way to go before I’m experienced enough for that position—not that I want it,” he added quickly. As far as he was concerned, being on the board was a necessary evil. “Dad always regretted how much time being chairman took away from doing what he really loved.”

A comfortable silence hung between the two brothers for a moment. “They don’t make ’em like Dad anymore, do they?” And then David looked apologetically at his older brother. “No disrespect intended.”

“None taken,” Peter replied easily. “James Wellington Wilder was one of a kind. We shall not see his like again.”

David rolled his eyes, his natural humor returning. “You’re starting to quote Shakespeare, time for me to leave.”

Peter hated to see his brother go. David was around so infrequently and there never seemed to be enough time to catch up. “Can I give you a ride to the airport at least?”

David shook his head. “I’ve got a taxi waiting.” As if to prove it, he nodded toward the lot. Peter made out the yellow body and black lettering of a local cab service. “You know I hate long goodbyes.”

Peter nodded. “I know it. Ella knows it.”

“Don’t worry about NHC,” David advised.

Peter laughed shortly. “Hard not to,” he said honestly. “What is their motto again? Whatever NHC wants, NHC gets?”

David grinned. His money was on Peter. His brother might be a man of few words, but in Peter’s case, still waters ran deep. Very deep.

“No, I think it’s: ‘We’ve never met a dollar bill we didn’t like’.” He felt compelled to give his older brother a few words of encouragement. “Which is exactly why Walnut River General won’t be joining their so-called family. People feel cared for when they come to Dad’s hospital—excuse me, your hospital—”

“It’s not mine,” Peter corrected. “You were right the first time. Dad’s hospital.”

David ignored him because they both knew that wasn’t true. Walnut River General was the mistress in Peter’s life, the lover he lavished his attention on and from whom he’d never strayed. Peter’s life was filled with relationships, but they were all with his patients and friends. Not a single one of them was a romantic entanglement.

From the moment he first took his Hippocratic oath, Peter had been devoid of any sort of relationship that might eventually become permanent. There’d been one in college, but that was all behind him. Beyond caring about his own family, Peter had told David more than once that there wasn’t time for anything else.

“You can’t put a price on that,” David concluded, as if Peter hadn’t interjected anything. He paused to embrace his older brother before taking his leave. “It’ll be all right.” he promised. “Call me if you need me. I’m only a five-hour flight away—if you don’t factor in inclement weather and mile-long security lines,” David added with a grin.

Crouching for a moment, he peered into the limousine. Ella rolled down the rear window and leaned forward. “Make me proud, little sister.”

Peter smiled, shaking his head. “Just what she needs, pressure.”

David raised his shoulders and then lowered them in another careless half shrug. “We all need a little pressure.” He glanced toward Anna as he made his pronouncement. “Keeps us on our toes and keeps life interesting.”

Anna shifted uncomfortably as David told her goodbye again and then hurried off to the cab.

“I’d better be leaving, too.” She looked at Peter, loathing to ask for a favor but she’d been so overwhelmed with grief, she hadn’t been thinking straight when they set off to the church. “If you could drop me off at my hotel on the way back to your place, I would greatly appreciate it.”

She sounded as if she was talking to a stranger, Peter thought. “No problem,” he told her.

The limousine driver had popped to attention the moment they’d approached the vehicle, and he was now holding the rear passenger door open for them. Peter waited until Anna climbed in beside Ella, then got in himself.

“Are you sure you won’t come to the reception?” Peter prodded. “Just for a few minutes.”

But Anna remained firm. “I’m sorry, I really do have to leave. I have a flight to catch, too. I realize that I won’t be reconstructing some Hollywood wannabe starlet’s breasts in the morning, but what I do is important, too.”

“No one said it wasn’t, Anna,” Peter pointed out.

Why did everything always devolve into an argument between them? Right now, he really wasn’t in the mood to walk on eggshells.

Unable to take any more, Ella spoke up. “Please, we just buried Dad. Do you two have to do this now?”

Their father’s death had brought everything too close to the surface. Like nerves and hurt feelings.

It was Peter who retreated first.

“Ella’s right.” It was on the tip of his tongue to say We shouldn’t be acting this way, but he knew Anna would take the statement as accusatory and it would only add kindling to the fire. So instead, he changed the subject, hitting on what continued, thanks to Bethany’s announcement, to be foremost in his mind. “Anna, I’m going to need your help.”

It was obviously the last thing she had ever expected to hear from him. Anna looked at Peter, utterly surprised. “You need my help?”

He could feel Ella looking at him, mystified. But it was true. He did need Anna’s help. “Yes.”

This was definitely a first, Anna thought. An uneasiness immediately slipped over her. An uneasiness because she had a feeling she knew what her older brother was going to say. And if she was right, she was going to have to turn him down. Because she was facing a huge conflict of interest. So, she made a preemptive strike, nipping a potential problem in the bud before she was faced with it. “I’m sorry, Peter, but all my time is already accounted for over the next few months,” she said firmly.

“I see.” He let the matter drop, silently upbraiding himself. Given their distance recently, he should have known better than to ask.

Peter’s small, two-story house was stuffed with people. Nearly everyone who’d attended the service and gone to the cemetery had followed the stretch limousine back to the reception.

Peter mentally tipped his hat to Ella. He had no knowledge of these kind of situations, no idea what was expected beyond the necessary funeral arrangements. Ella had handled all the subsequent preparations, securing a caterer and telling the man what to bring, where to set up and when.

Initially, when he’d seen how much food was going to be on hand, Peter had envisioned himself having to live on leftovers for the next six months. Watching his various guests help themselves, he smiled now, thinking that if there was enough left over for a sandwich for lunch tomorrow, he’d be doing well.

He supposed that sorrow brought out the hunger in some people. As for him, the exact opposite was true. He wasn’t sure if he’d had more than a single meal since his father had suffered the fatal heart attack that had taken the man away from them.

Damn, but I am going to miss you, Dad. You left too soon, he thought not for the first time.

“You’re not eating.”

The words took him by surprise. Or rather, the voice did. Bethany Holloway, the Jill-come-lately to the hospital’s board of directors.

As he turned to look at her, he caught himself, thinking that David was dead-on in his evaluation of her appearance. But he had a sneaking suspicion that they might find themselves on the opposite sides of an opinion.

Pity, he thought.

“That’s because I’m not hungry,” he said, punctuating his statement with a half-hearted smile.

“You really should have something,” Bethany advised. The next moment, she was putting into his hands a plate containing several slices of roast beef and ham that she had obviously taken for herself. “You’re looking a little pale.”

Trying to return the plate to her proved futile. “You have a degree?” he asked amiably.

Bethany knew he meant in medicine, but she deadpanned her answer.

“In observation.” She quickly followed up with, “And it doesn’t take much to see that you haven’t been visiting your refrigerator with any amount of regularity.” That actually stirred a few distant memories within her. She really had so few when it came to her own home life. “My father used to get too caught up in his work to remember to eat,” she added, hoping that might persuade him to take a few bites. She could well imagine how he had to feel. It wasn’t easy losing family, and from what she’d observed of father and son, they had been close.

“Used to?” Peter echoed. “Is he—” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question. The word dead stuck in his throat like an open wound, the kind sustained by swallowing something that was too hot.

“Gone?” she supplied. It was a nice, safe word for what he was implying, she thought. “No, actually, I’m the one who’s gone. From the state,” she added quickly when she saw his eyebrows draw together in minor confusion. “As far as I know, both of my parents are still working like crazy.” Bethany lifted one shoulder in a quick, careless shrug and then took a sip from the glass of diet soda she was holding in her other hand. “It makes them happy so I suppose it’s all right.”

From her tone, Peter inferred that it was not all right with her. Questions about her began to form in his mind.

Bethany looked around the tightly packed family room and beyond. There was barely enough space for people to mill around without rubbing elbows and other body parts against one another.

“This a very large turnout.” She smiled at him. “Your father had a lot of friends.”

To know his father was to like him, Peter thought. “That he did.”

“I didn’t know him very well,” Bethany began, picking her words carefully, “but the little I did know, I liked a great deal.” Her smile widened and Peter caught himself thinking that she had an extremely infectious smile. “He reminded me a little of Jimmy Stewart in It’s A Wonderful Life, always thinking about other people and what they needed.” She raised her eyes to his and, just for an inkling, Peter thought he felt something inside himself stirring, reacting to the soft blue gaze. “You kind of look like him.” He perceived a hint of pink along her cheeks. “I mean, like the portrait of him that’s hanging in the hospital corridor outside the administration office. Same strong chin, same kind eyes.”

And then she laughed. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I always speak my mind. My mother told me it would get me in trouble someday.” Lectured her, actually, but Peter didn’t need to know that.

“And has it?” he asked. “Gotten you in trouble I mean.”

She shook her head. “Not yet, but there’s still time.” Bethany looked past his shoulder. A curious expression slipped over her flawless features. “I think that man is trying to get your attention.”

Peter turned to look over his shoulder and saw Fred Trinity, his father’s lawyer. The latter looked relieved to make eye contact and waved him over.

What’s this all about? Peter wondered. The formal reading of the will, not that it was really necessary, was set for tomorrow.

Well, he might as well find out, he thought. “If you’ll excuse me,” Peter murmured, handing her back the plate she’d given him.

“Of course.” Bethany frowned at the untouched fare on the plate. “Don’t forget to eat something,” she called after him. And then, with a resigned sigh, she turned back to the crowd.

It took him a minute before he realized that he was just standing there, watching her walk away, thinking that the woman looked good going as well as coming.

Chapter Three

With his shaggy mustache and gleaming bald head, Fred Trinity looked like a walrus in an outdated suit that might have fit him well some twenty-five, thirty pounds ago. His carelessness, however, only extended to his appearance. His mind was as sharp as the point of a sword.

Placing a solicitous hand on Peter’s arm, the lawyer lowered his voice, as if the weight of his words wouldn’t allow him to speak any louder.

“Could I see you alone for a minute, Peter?”

The grave expression on the man’s round, ordinarily amiable face was not reassuring. A chill passed over Peter’s shoulder blades and he couldn’t help wondering if this had anything to do with the threat he’d so recently been made aware of, the one posed by NHC. Fred had been his father’s lawyer for as long as he could remember, but he wasn’t the legal counsel that the hospital board turned to. Still, Fred might have been privy to some sort of inside information. Lawyers talked among themselves like everyone else, didn’t they?

Bracing himself, Peter nodded. “Sure.” He indicated the doorway leading to other parts of the house. “We can go to my study. It’s just down the hall.”

Crossing the living-room threshold, Peter led the way out.

“I’ve never been to your house before,” Fred commented, looking around.

“It’s not much of a treat,” Peter confessed. “I’m afraid I’ve let things get away from me. You know how it is.”

“Actually, no,” Fred replied. “Selma handles all that. You need a wife, Peter.”

“I’ll put it on my list of things to do,” Peter promised.

The house was older than Peter and in need of attention and a fair amount of updating. Other than hiring an occasional cleaning crew to do battle with the cobwebs and the dust, nothing had been changed since he’d moved in shortly after graduating from medical school. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d had the house painted, but then, he rarely spent much time here.

He was always at the hospital, either in the O.R., the emergency room or in his fourth-floor office. His house was just the place where he received his mail, did his laundry and slept. Beyond that, it really didn’t serve much of a function.

Like the rest of the doors in the house, the door to his study was wide-open. He didn’t like closed doors. Closed doors meant secrets. It was a holdover from his childhood. On the rare occasions when his parents would have words, the doors were always closed. When they were opened again, his parents would emerge, each with sadness in their eyes.

As he walked in, Peter flipped a switch on his desk lamp, which cast a dim light.

He switched the three-way bulb on high, then turned around to face the man he had ushered in.

“What’s wrong, Fred?”

Fred looked somewhat uneasy. Peter couldn’t remember ever seeing the lawyer look anything but comfortably confident. Fred reached inside the breast pocket of his jacket and took out a bulky-looking white envelope. Watching Peter’s face, Fred held it out to him.

Across the front of the envelope, in his father’s very distinct handwriting, was his name.

“Your father wanted me to give this to you. It was only to be opened in the event of his death,” Fred explained and then sighed with genuine sorrow. It was no secret that he’d known James Wilder for over sixty years. They’d gone to school together. “Which is now. I am going to really miss that man. Did I ever tell you that he saved my life?”

Peter stared at the envelope before taking it. What could his father have written that he couldn’t have said to him in person?

“Twice.” A heaviness hovered over Peter as he took the envelope Fred was holding out. He had an uneasy feeling he didn’t want to know what was inside. “When did he give this to you?”

“Five years ago. Shortly after your mother died.” The man’s small mouth curved beneath the shaggy mustache. “I think her death brought mortality into his life in big, bright letters. It hit him then that no one was going to go on forever, not even him, and he had some things he wanted to get off his chest, I suppose.” Fred pressed his lips together. “Damn, I thought if anyone would have been able to cheat death, it would have been him.”

“Yeah, me, too.” His father was the most decent, honorable man he had ever known, as well as the most dedicated. There were no skeletons in his closet, no real deep, dark secrets. His father’s life had been an open book. “What makes you think my father had something he wanted to get off his chest?”

“Because, for one thing, there are no letters for David or Ella or Anna. I guess as the family’s new patriarch, he was turning to you.” Fred’s bushy eyebrows rose in surprise as he watched Peter tuck the letter into his own breast pocket without opening it. “Aren’t you going to read it?”

Peter shook his head. “Not right now. I need to get through this ordeal first before I’m up to tackling another problem.”

Fred nodded, but it was obvious he was curious about the envelope’s contents. However, it wasn’t his place to prod.

“Makes sense,” Fred allowed. His mission accomplished, he took a step toward the doorway, then stopped. “By the way, is tomorrow evening still convenient for the reading of the will?”

Convenient. What a strange word to use under the circumstances. Peter took a breath, doing his best to block the barrage of sadness that threatened to overwhelm him again.

“Tomorrow evening will be fine, Fred,” he replied quietly.

Fred continued to pause as another thought occurred to him. “What about Anna and David? I don’t see either one of them at the reception.”

“That’s because they’re not here,” Peter replied simply. He could see the answer didn’t please the man. Crossing back to the doorway, he turned off the light. “If there’s anything out of the ordinary in the will—” which he was confident there wouldn’t be “—I can always call and tell them.”

Fred nodded as they walked out of the room together. “Rumor has it that NHC is about to come knocking on the hospital’s door.” He stopped short of the living room. “What are you planning to do about it?”

“Not answer,” Peter replied with a finality that left no room for argument.

Fred grinned broadly and clapped him on the shoulder. He had to reach a little in order to do it. “Good man. You’d make your father proud.” He lowered his voice again, assuming a conspiratorial tone. “He’s watching over you now, you know that, don’t you?”

Peter merely offered a perfunctory smile. He wasn’t exactly sure how he stood on things like that. What he did know was he would have preferred to have his father at his side. Or better yet, leading this charge against the anticipated assault. James Wilder was far better suited to staving off the barbarians at the gate than he was.

But he was going to have to learn. And fast.

The first person Peter noticed when he walked into the boardroom the next morning was Bethany Holloway. Out of respect for the late chief of staff, she was wearing a black sheath. It made her hair seem more vividly red, her complexion ever more porcelainlike.

Black became her, Peter thought absently. On her, the color didn’t look quite as somber.

The eight other board members in the room were also wearing black or navy, undoubtedly prompted by the same desire to show respect, Peter mused. His father would have been surprised at how many people mourned his passing. But then, the man had always been so unassuming, never thinking of himself, only others.

His thoughts momentarily brought him back to the envelope Fred had given him last night. He’d left it, unopened, on the mantel in the living room, unable to deal with its contents. He knew that was making assumptions, giving it an importance it might not actually have, but he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that whatever was inside the envelope was going to change life for him as he knew it.

So for the time being, it was going to remain unopened. At the moment, he had enough windmills to tilt at. Especially if this threat posed by NHC actually was genuine.

The January sun had decided to make an appearance, pushing its way into the rectangular room via the large bay window that looked down onto the hospital’s emergency room entrance.

Despite the brightness, Peter felt a chill zip down along his spine as he walked into the room. Everyone was already there. He was on time; they were early. Was there some sort of a significance to that?

Wallace Ford, the newly appointed chairman of the board, walked up to him and shook his hand as if he hadn’t been at the service and subsequent reception just yesterday.

“Good of you to attend, Peter,” he said heartily. Dropping his hand, he sighed heavily. “Again, let me express my deepest sorrow regarding your father.” He cast a glance about the room before looking at Peter again. “We all lost someone very special to us.”

“Thank you, Wallace, I appreciate that.” Peter looked around at the other board members, all sitting at the long rectangular table. It seated twelve. Only nine seats were filled. He’d never paid attention to the exact number of board members before. There’d been no need. Maybe he should have.

Hindsight wasn’t helpful.

“Where do you want me?” he asked Wallace.

Wallace gestured toward the chair beside Bethany. “Why don’t you take the empty seat next to Ms. Holloway?” And then the chairman smiled at Bethany as if they were both in on a secret joke. “I guess you’re going to have to relinquish your title as the newest member of the board, Ms. Holloway.”

“Gladly,” Bethany replied.

Wallace waited until Peter took his seat and then, running his fingers along the gavel he refrained from striking, the newly appointed chairman called the meeting to order and addressed the group.

“Because this is an impromptu meeting and we all have other places we need to be, I’m going to dispense with the reading of the minutes today and get right down to the heart of the matter.” His small, brown eyes rested on Peter for a long moment. “Or matters, as the case might be,” he corrected himself.

“First of all, we, the board and I—” Wallace gestured grandly around the table before continuing, and it struck Peter that the man was a born showman who was given to dramatic pauses “—would like to offer the position of chief of staff to you, Dr. Wilder.”

For a moment, Peter didn’t know what to say. Chief of Staff had been his father’s position. In his later years, James Wilder juggled that and being chairman of the board. Both were full-time jobs. It never ceased to amaze him how his father managed to do justice to both, but he had. In the end, it had probably taken a toll on his health.

That notwithstanding, Peter was flattered by the offer, but he knew his limitations. With a self-deprecating smile, he shook his head. “Thank you, all of you, but I don’t believe I’m experienced enough to take that on.”

Wallace laughed at the refusal. “Modest. You’re your father’s son all right. Actually, we’re asking you to take the position on temporarily, just until we find a suitable candidate. Your father left very big shoes to fill. It’s going to take us a while before we find someone who comes close to his caliber. Until then, we would consider it an honor, as well as a huge favor, to have a Wilder in that position for a little while longer.” Wallace paused just long enough to allow the words sink in. “You’d really be bailing us out.”

Very adroitly, the new chairman of the board had maneuvered him until his back was against the wall. Peter knew he had no choice but to agree. It helped somewhat knowing that it was only for a little while.

“Well, put that way, I don’t think I can turn it down.”

“Wonderful. Then it’s settled. Peter Wilder is the new temporary chief of staff.” Wallace grew somber, as if the next topic could only be spoken about with the utmost respect and gravity. “As for the second reason for this meeting, I think we’re all aware of what that is, but I’ll be the one to say it out loud. Northeastern Healthcare has expressed a great interest in acquiring our little hospital and I believe that their offer is worth discussing at length.”

Peter could feel his stomach tightening. “As long as our final answer is no,” he commented.

Wallace shot him a look as if he’d just violated some sort of sacred procedure.

He probably had, Peter thought. He wasn’t up on the intricacies of parliamentary procedure and the kind of pomp and ceremony that went with conducting meetings properly. It had never aroused the slightest bit of interest in him.

What did interest him were people—patients—who needed his care, his skills. He couldn’t help wondering how his father, a very simple man at bottom, had been able to put up with all of this.

Wallace narrowed his eyes as he continued to look at him. “Excuse me?”

Now that he was in the potential fray, he might as well speak his mind, Peter thought. “Well, you can’t seriously be thinking about accepting their offer, Wallace.”

Wallace frowned. “You haven’t even heard the amount yet.”

Peter laughed shortly. “I don’t need to hear the amount. You can’t put a price on what we do here.”

“I’m sure that would come as a surprise to the insurance companies, Dr. Wilder,” Bethany said. She saw the incredulous look on the doctor’s face and quickly continued. She needed to make this man understand why he was wrong. “Patients pay for their care, that’s the whole point. And if that care can come about more efficiently, more quickly, it’s a win-win situation for us and for them.” Her voice grew more impassioned as she continued. “Besides, we’re just a simple hospital. One huge lawsuit could ruin us and force us to close our doors.”

“There’s never been a lawsuit against the hospital,” Peter said, in case she was ignorant of the fact.

“That doesn’t mean that there couldn’t be,” Bethany pointed out. “People are a great deal more litigation-crazy than they were when your father joined the staff here. With a conglomerate like NHC taking Walnut River General under its protective wing, we’re all but invulnerable.”

The other board members in the room faded into the background. One attempted to say something, but Peter ignored him. Because Walnut River General meant so much to his father, to him, this had suddenly become personal.

“And where does the patient fit in with all this?” Peter wanted to know. How could someone who looked like an angel be so cold?

“The patient is the one who benefits,” Bethany insisted. She clearly thought he was oblivious to that. “NHC puts us on the map, makes us eligible to receive grants, updates our equipment, perhaps even gets us state-of-the-art equipment. You can’t possibly ignore that.”

“No,” Peter agreed. “Updated equipment is extremely important, but that’s what we have fund-raisers for. And so far, they’ve done pretty well by us.”

The man just wasn’t getting the big picture. He thought too small. “Personal donations,” she said. “Think how much more we could do with allotments from a conglomerate with bottomless pockets.”

He wondered if she was actually that naive, or if it was a matter of her being heartless. He preferred thinking it was the former, but he had a feeling he was wrong. “Isn’t that a little like selling our souls for thirty pieces of silver?”

Wallace cleared his throat, getting them to both look in his direction for a moment and breaking the growing tension.

“Aren’t you being a little dramatic, Peter?” Wallace asked.

“No, I’m being pragmatic,” he responded. “I didn’t go to medical school to practice assembly-line medicine.” His main focus wasn’t Wallace, it was Bethany. He wanted to make her understand, to see the flaw in the way she thought. “The doctors here treat the whole patient, they don’t deal with him or her piecemeal. I don’t want some accounting analyst holding a stopwatch and looking over my shoulder, telling me that I need to move faster or I’ll wind up pulling the hospital’s batting average down.”

“There’s nothing wrong with seeing more patients,” Bethany insisted.

“There is if you wind up shortchanging them because you have a quota to meet or a schedule to live up to. Can’t you see that?”

Bethany’s eyes flashed angrily. Was he accusing her of being obtuse? She’d never reacted well to criticism. She’d had to put up with a lot of it while she’d been growing up. She didn’t have to anymore.

“You’re ignoring all the benefits that being part of an organization like Northeastern Healthcare can provide for the hospital. They have access to far more facilities than we do.”

“Looks like someone has done their homework,” Wallace said. There was no missing the admiration in his voice or the approving look on the chairman’s face as he looked at Bethany.

Was Wallace for the takeover, or was he just trying to score points with Bethany? Peter wondered in mounting frustration.

He didn’t often lose his patience, but his father’s death had changed the rules and shaken him down to his very foundation.

“Then give her a gold star, Wallace, but don’t give NHC the hospital. Everyone will regret it if you do, most of all, the patients.” Peter rose from his chair. The legs scraped along the floor as he pushed it back from the table. “Now, if you will all please excuse me, I have patients waiting to see me.”

It was only by calling up the greatest restraint that he didn’t slam the door behind him as he left.

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