“I saw the treats you left on the desk,” Kelley told him. “Thank you. Again.”
“You’re welcome again,” Juan said. His grin sobered. “How is Jenny?”
Like the rest of the staff, Juan knew Jenny had been in the child-care center when the fire broke out.
Inside KidClub. That was what Kelley told everyone, to protect her daughter. The fire had at first been called accidental, but the official cause was later ruled arson. So far no one had been arrested. Kelley had no reason to think Jenny had seen what happened, but just in case…
“She’s doing better,” she told Juan, “but it’ll take time before she can put it all behind her.”
“Of course. Well, I made sure I got her favorite today, a twisty glazed doughnut. She can have the whole thing if she wants, not just a piece of it.”
“That’s sweet of you, Juan.” Kelley hesitated. She suspected that providing doughnuts and fruit every day might create a dent in the janitor’s salary. “How about if Jenny and I bring the treats tomorrow morning?”
“Well…” Juan didn’t look keen on the idea.
Kelley did not want to make him feel bad, though she had been meaning to make this offer for a while. “Another day, then,” she said quickly. “You know I always teach her to take turns. If you tell me what kind your favorite doughnut is, we’ll be sure to bring you one. Okay?”
“Maybe next week sometime,” he said without enthusiasm. But he added, “My favorite is chocolate with peanuts.”
“Good. We’ll work out when soon.” She should probably also find out what kind of treats Shawn Jameson preferred, she thought as she continued down the hall.
The way he looked, his preference in treats probably had nothing to do with sweet rolls.
She shook her head. Why was the new child-care attendant so much on her mind this morning?
She turned the corner to the main hallway and glimpsed the back of Dr. Madelyne Younger. The short, platinum-blond cap of hair over the signature purple lab jacket was a giveaway.
Kelley’s own lab coats were light in color. Conservative. Unlike Madelyne’s.
“Hey, Madelyne, wait up,” Kelley called, but not too loudly.
Though this was the administration wing, it was still part of a hospital.
Her voice had apparently been loud enough. Madelyne, an internist who specialized in infectious diseases as did Kelley, turned to face her. She didn’t have the same compunction about raising her voice, which boomed down the hall. “Hey, kiddo, how ya’ doing this morning?”
“Not bad.” Kelley, smiling, caught up with the older woman.
“Not good, either, I’d say.” Madelyne’s narrow face screwed into a frown as she studied Kelley. Lines radiated from the edges of her barely made-up eyes. She gestured for Kelley to join her at the hall’s periphery to let the crowd of hospital staff and visitors pass by. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”
Kelley moved to the wall and shrugged one shoulder. “Nothing new. It’s just hard to leave Jenny these days.”
“I figured. Are things around here improving?”
Kelley didn’t want to think about that but replied with a sigh. “Not really. All the innuendoes appear to be taking on a life of their own and sneaking into every corner of this place.”
“Remember they’re only that—innuendoes. I was there. I didn’t see you do a damned thing wrong. That influenza epidemic was a beast and a half, and those two older patients who died—well, they simply arrived too late to be helped. Got it?”
“Got it,” Kelley affirmed, unable to stop herself from grinning back at her irrepressible friend. But she’d noticed the way Madelyne had phrased her reply. She hadn’t seen Kelley do anything wrong.
That didn’t mean she would swear that Kelley hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Anyway, there’s nothing—oh, puffballs. There’s the chief innuendo manufacturer now. Just remember the source, kiddo.”
Kelley sighed. Madelyne was glaring over her shoulder, and Kelley chose not to turn to see who she was looking at.
She already knew.
“Good morning, Kelley. Madelyne.”
The stilted masculine voice that had once been the stuff of her daydreams was now one of her worst nightmares.
Slowly, Kelley turned and found herself looking up into the face of Dr. Randall Stanton, cardiologist extraordinaire. Star of Gilpin Hospital’s surgical staff.
And her blasted ex-husband.
Randall wore a lab jacket with as much finesse as most gentlemen wore tuxedos. He wasn’t a particularly tall man, but Kelley, at five foot three, had to look up at him—a fact that suited him just fine. Silver-haired, silver-tongued Randall thrived on adulation the way sports stars did. Though the hallway was broad here, he seemed to take up its entire width with his presence. And of course he wasn’t by himself.
“Good morning, Randall,” Kelley said with forced civility, adding through gritted teeth, “You, too, Cheryl.” Even more than Kelley disliked her ex, she loathed the woman by his side.
“Yeah. Hiya.” Madelyne sounded even less enthusiastic than Kelley.
Kelley’s ex seldom traveled alone, even through hospital halls. His most constant companion these days was his assistant, cardiac nurse Cheryl Marten.
Cheryl was a little taller than Kelley, but she, too, had to look up at her boss. And lover, if Kelley was any judge. Cheryl carried a clipboard—most likely Randall’s.
Other than her height, Cheryl was not at all similar to Kelley. The nurse was more voluptuous and flaunted it. Though she wore an unprepossessing colorful smock over her clean white slacks, its top buttons were undone, revealing a hint of substantial cleavage.
She was probably a year or two younger than Kelley, which made her ten years younger than Randall. She radiated Randall’s air of superiority. More than once an irritated Kelley had itched to remind the woman that she was a nurse, while Kelley was a doctor. But Kelley always swallowed the urge. There was enough animosity between them without giving in to the woman’s obvious baiting. And Kelley knew that, with the esteemed Randall on her side, Cheryl would prevail in any catfight. Even with what she’d done.
Especially since Kelley’s formerly rising star at Gilpin Hospital had lost its luster.
“How is our daughter this morning?” Randall asked, pointedly ignoring Madelyne.
As if you care. Though they shared joint custody, Kelley had primary physical custody, which suited her fine. Randall was supposed to have visitation on certain nights and weekends, but often claimed to be too busy to take sweet little Jenny.
Kelley always made excuses for him, more to soothe Jenny than to protect Randall.
She had done enough of the latter when they were married.
Despite everything, Randall had not admitted to the slightest bit of responsibility for Jenny’s being left behind the night of the fire. Even though it had been his night to care for their daughter, even though his assistant had been the one to sign the child out, he blamed Kelley.
“Jenny’s fine,” Kelley said. “I’ll bet she’d love for you to ask her yourself. Do you plan to take her tomorrow night?”
Randall didn’t answer until he had glanced at Cheryl, whose smile looked forced to Kelley, but no matter. Apparently it had been the permission Randall