“You’ve been a huge asset to this hospital. I’m sure you know that. I don’t want one of our best doctors burning out or going elsewhere.”
“I have no plans of going anywhere. At the moment, anyway.” Her eyes dipped to the edge of his desk before coming back up to meet his.
She was thinking about leaving.
“Are you having a problem on the floor? Is someone making life difficult?”
“You mean other than you?” She flashed a grin that traveled all the way to her eyes, crinkling the corners in a way that made his insides clench. But when he didn’t smile back, her mouth went back to neutral. “No. Of course not.”
“Why the sudden jump in hours, then?” He forced himself to concentrate on the subject at hand. There was no way she could deny that her habits had changed. He might be treading into forbidden territory, but it was his job to make sure this hospital maintained its reputation for providing stellar care.
She hesitated. “I’m going through a personal crisis right now. I just need to work through it, and this is the best way I can think of to do that.”
The familiar ring of those words made him tense. He’d gone through a personal crisis of his own a few years back. “Anything you care to share?”
Her head came up, neck turning a dark shade of red. “No. Yes…” There was a long pause, as if she was struggling to figure out a way to tell him something. “I’m divorcing my husband, and things have been difficult.”
He sat back in his chair, relief washing through him that her crisis had nothing to do with him. Not that he was happy she was getting a divorce, but the way she’d backed away from him when he’d tried to help her with those boxes had set an alarm off in his head. He’d racked his brain thinking of something he might have done to make her uneasy around him, but had come up empty.
“A divorce.”
Okay, so the matter-of-fact way he’d said that had probably sounded crass and unfeeling. He hadn’t meant it to. After all, he’d been through a divorce himself and had lived to tell the tale.
“I’m not sure how my hours are a problem as long as I’m not endangering anyone.”
He leaned forward. “Sometimes you don’t realize you are until it’s too late.”
“Are we talking about me? Or are we talking about your hand?”
“Excuse me?” Only then did he realize that his injured hand was resting on his desk, the almost useless fingers curled into a ball.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
She was right. She shouldn’t have. Except the reason he’d asked her to step into his office had more to do with him than it did with her, and she’d just called him on it. He lifted his hand, turning it over and studying it for a few seconds. “Actually you’re right. I did call you in because of this. You’ve heard about what happened?”
“You know the grapevines. Not much escapes them.”
“Ah. I imagine not. And calling you in here isn’t personal. It’s professional. I don’t want to see anyone else ruin their career by working themselves to exhaustion.”
“I know my limits.”
He smiled to cover the churning in his gut caused by those words. He’d thought he’d known his limits too. How wrong he’d been. “Sometimes we only think we do.”
“Believe me, I have no desire to jeopardize something I love more than anything.”
He hadn’t wanted to either. But once Leticia died…
Swallowing, he stood. “I just wanted to bring it to your attention and ask you to stick to a more sensible schedule.”
She laughed and climbed to her feet as well, tossing those wild errant locks back over her shoulder. “I think ‘doctor’ and ‘sensible schedule’ are incompatible terms, don’t you? Are you going to write me up?”
“Do I need to?”
“I hope not, but that’s your prerogative. You can even fire me, if you want. I can always practice somewhere else.”
And now he could bring up an earlier thought. “You’re already thinking of doing just that, though, aren’t you? Leaving?”
There was a long pause. “I hope it won’t come to that. My—ex—works for the EMT company that services this area. If he makes things difficult, I might choose to move.”
He took a step closer, gratified when she stood her ground this time. “How can I help? The hospital, that is.”
“You can’t. It’s something I have to work through myself. I’ll either be able to face him and move on, or I won’t. Our parting was not the most amicable in the world.”
That made him frown. “Let me know if he causes trouble.”
“I think he’s caused all the trouble he can. The sooner the divorce goes through, the better.” Fingers fiddled with a small gold ball that clung to the delicate lobe of her right ear. Something contracted in his chest.
She allowed her hand to drop back to her side, standing straight and tall. “I’m sure the last thing you want to hear today is someone moaning about their impending divorce.”
He glanced back at the safe.
Before he could even give voice to the question, she nodded. “Yes. He gave it to me. And all of those other items as well.”
“Ah, understandable. I still think it should be appraised. I can have that done if you’d like.”
“It’s up to you. I won’t want the necklace back no matter what its value.”
He glanced at her hand. No rings anymore, but the indentation was still there. “I’m sorry. About your breakup.”
“Thank you.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her pants. “Now, if there’s nothing else…”
“No. Nothing. Just keep an eye on those hours, okay?”
“I will. Thanks for bringing it to my attention.”
Walking over to the door, he held it open and waited as she walked through it. “Oh, and, Dr. Santini.”
“Call me Addy.”
He nodded. “Addy, then. Thank you for the donations. The hospital appreciates them.”
How was that for impersonal? Maybe he’d sounded canned and overly formal, but he didn’t like the way he was suddenly noticing little things about her.
“I’m glad someone will be able to use them.”
Because she wouldn’t. He shut the door and went back around his desk. Giving his damaged hand one last glance, he sat in his chair and tried to lose himself in his work. But Addy’s face—and that damned gold earring—kept circling through his thoughts. He hoped she came through her crisis unscathed. And that it wouldn’t cost her something a lot more valuable than a set of pearls.
* * *
Two days later a piece of mail caught her attention. It was from the hospital. Her breath stalled in her chest. She’d done her best to cut back on her hours, but knew she’d still stayed on the floor longer than she should have.
Sliding her finger under the tab, she was surprised when a single sheet of paper fell out—a handwritten note containing only seven words:
Two thousand dollars appraised—are you sure?
The signature was Garret Stapleton’s. A shiver went over her as she sat and stared at his handwriting for a few seconds. Bold strokes crossed