“Deal,” Sarah said and rushed off to her car. “Don’t forget, we’re meeting at four-thirty at Bride’s Corner to choose my wedding dress!”
“It’s burned into my brain!” Maddie waved as Sarah got into her Envoy and drove off. Maddie turned her attention to the red sandstone of the clock tower on the county courthouse as the dawn rays struck the beveled-glass windows.
“Valentine’s Day,” Maddie whispered. “A moneymaker day.” She smiled, then felt her smile drop off her face like icing off a cake when it’s been sitting in the sun too long. For the first time in over a decade, Maddie remembered that Valentine’s Day was a day for love.
She’d received beautiful flowers a few days ago, which was a first for her. Alex had even called her last night to make certain they’d arrived.
“Hey, beautiful. Happy Valentine’s Day tomorrow,” he’d said, his voice filled with anticipation. He spoke in a sultry baritone she’d never heard during their office meetings. Their conversations had always been about profits, projected earnings and potentials.
“They’re just gorgeous,” she’d gushed. “So exotic. Especially for this time of year.”
“I like unusual and unexpected things. Were you surprised?”
“Very. I couldn’t figure out who would be sending me flowers.”
“Ah. That’s good,” he said. “I wanted you to have something special while I was away...” His voice trailed off as if there was something else he was going to say before he thought better of it.
So I don’t forget you? Is that what you were going to say, Alex?
“You’re going away?”
“To Dubai. For three weeks,” he’d said, as if in apology.
“United Arab Emirates,” she’d whispered as her mind flitted halfway across the globe. “That’s a long way.”
“It is. Listen, I scheduled a meeting for us when I get back. We’ll need to catch up. And I’m hoping to have an investor for you by then.”
Maddie’s heart had actually tripped a beat. “Investor?”
“I don’t want to get your hopes up quite yet. But I have someone on the line. I’ll tell you about it when I get back. You take care, Maddie. I’ll try to text you while I’m gone. I hope their cell coverage isn’t as bad as the last time I was there.”
“You’ve been to Dubai before?”
“Several times. I’m working on something....” He had a way of leaving valuable information hanging in space like tiny crumbs leading to hidden treasure.
Remembering their phone conversation, Maddie’s head was filled with thoughts of Alex. He was like a dream to her. He was tall, blond and wide-shouldered, and had a very strong jaw that looked as if it was chiseled from granite and a dimple in his chin. His blue eyes were the color of cornflowers in summer. His smile revealed sparkling white even teeth, and his full lips completed a face so handsome she finally understood why the Greeks invented a god of male beauty. Alex could have been a dead ringer for Adonis.
The first time she’d met him in his office, she was impressed with his confidence, sincerity and assuredness. He was the kind of man people trusted with their entire life’s savings. He was the kind of executive people turned to when their world was crashing down around them. Maddie’s first impression was that this man was smart enough, savvy enough, to turn around even the worst-case scenarios.
Now, he’d sent her flowers, and he’d been especially sweet to her on the phone, making her think about things romantic.
It had been a long, long time since Maddie had had time or room in her thoughts for anything other than her passion for her career.
Romance was something she’d discarded when she was seventeen, when Nate Barzonni had asked her to marry him and then left town the next day. He’d never called or written. She’d never received an explanation. He’d simply disappeared.
For over a decade, she’d been heartbroken and very, very angry.
No, Maddie thought. Romance was something that existed only in her past.
NATE BARZONNI WAS early for his seven o’clock meeting with Dr. Roger Caldwell, chief surgeon and head of the new cardiology wing at Indian Lake Hospital. Nate had been sitting in his car in the foggy cold since six thirty-five, his hands wrapped around a large, double-shot latte from the drive-through window at Book Shop and Java Stop.
As he entered the hospital and took the elevator up to Dr. Caldwell’s office, Nate realized he was nervous as a cat about this interview. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he’d get the job. He knew the position was his for the taking. He was the only applicant who had any experience with the new cold beam laser surgeries that every hospital in the nation wanted. Though catheter ablation surgery, the process of “burning” away misfiring nerves inside the heart to treat arrythmia, had become as common as bypass surgery, the cold beam laser was truly cutting-edge technology. Cold beam created a clean, open channel to the heart by drilling several holes from a dying heart muscle to the left ventricle. Once the holes healed, they triggered a growth of new muscle, so oxygenated blood could flow into the heart, which hadn’t been receiving proper oxygen and nutrients. Finding the surgeons to perform the procedure was difficult. Nate was keenly aware that he could have gone to Los Angeles or San Francisco, and he’d been offered a position in Scottsdale, but most hospitals wanted him to sign a three-year contract. Indian Lake demanded only a single year. One year was more to his liking because Nate wanted to prove himself—fast. With a year under his belt as a top cardiac surgeon at the Indian Lake Hospital and working in their Ablation Department, he could go wherever he wished and he would get the kind of financial backing he would need. For years, Nate had dreamed of one day landing a department chief position at a major hospital. But last year, that all changed.
Nate had spent a year on an Indian reservation in Arizona, ostensibly to whittle his medical school loans down by half. He’d learned about the government plan that enticed newly-licensed doctors and dentists from a shipmate of his in the Navy. Within a few days of treating patients on the reservation, Nate saw a desperate need for doctors with his skill level. He’d never considered himself a humanitarian, but something happened to him during that year that changed his view of life. These people could not afford highly specialized ablation surgery. And there were very few surgeons in his field willing to sacrifice money and possibly fame to help them. Nate realized he could make a real difference in the world.
By the end of his stint at the reservation hospital, Nate had come face to face with his life’s passion.
Indian Lake was exactly the place Nate needed to be for the short term. And afterward...he’d ratchet himself up another several notches toward his dream.
* * *
“DR. BARZONNI?” A MAN’S voice asked in a clear, clipped tone.
“Yes, sir.” Nate snapped to his feet from the uncomfortable metal-and-plastic chair he’d been seated in. Nate presented his hand to the tall, slender man with an angular face. Dr. Roger Caldwell was in his late forties and looked fit, in a long-distance-runner way. He wore black slacks and a long white lab coat over a cheap maroon oxford-cloth shirt and blue-and-red-striped polyester tie. This was the third interview Nate had been on, and at every hospital, every major clinic, the administrator responsible for choosing the hospital uniforms and outlining the dress codes apparently won the job based on their obvious lack of fashion sense and color blindness. “Dr. Caldwell. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir.”
They began walking down a carpeted hallway.
“You