by Radclyffe
But this was different. This was family. How quickly they had all become family—Presley and Harper, Flann and Abby, Blake and Margie. All the Rivers family, and the ones they loved and who loved them. Blake would be fine. Flann was an exceptional surgeon and Glenn would be with her, steady, solid Glenn, who was everyone’s strength, especially Flann’s and Abby’s right now. And her cousin Mari. She smiled to herself. The cousin she didn’t know she’d had until just a few months before, now as much family as the one she’d grown up with.
“Is the boss in?” a husky, irritated voice demanded, jerking Carrie’s attention up from her screen.
A woman in khaki canvas pants cinched by a wide, worn brown leather belt, work boots, and a faded blue T-shirt with the sleeves torn off stood in front of her, dark eyes snapping, her equally dark hair ruffled and sweat slick even at this hour of the morning. A thick black lock dragged across her forehead, almost falling into her right eye. Her arms were tanned and muscled, her hands long fingered and, at this moment, hooked over the waistband of her pants. Her long lean legs were spread wide, her expression impatient. A hard hat rested in the crook of her arm, clamped against her side as if it was simply another appendage.
“No, she isn’t,” Carrie said with her office voice, calm and collected and friendly. “She’s not expected until this afternoon.”
“Well, I have to talk to her.” The woman wasn’t making a request. She stared back at Carrie, as if Carrie could conjure Presley from her top desk drawer.
Carrie kept her smile in place. “I’m very sorry, but she’s unavailable. Perhaps I can help—”
“Nope, you can’t. Look, miss, here’s the situation—I’ve got six guys, a heavy excavator, a dump truck full of crushed stone, and a front loader idling in your parking lot—”
“It’s Ms.,” Carrie said, feeling the smile slip and not particularly caring. Really, it must be the job and not the hormones that made some of these hard-hat types just plain hardheaded. “And what parking lot are you talking about? We don’t have security scheduled to reroute traffic, and if you’re blocking—”
“We wouldn’t be blocking anyone, if we had—”
“So you are blocking access? What parking lot? Tell me it’s not the emergency room.”
The woman blew out an exasperated breath. “Do you want an extension to the emergency room or not? Because if you do, I have to bring my equipment across the parking lot to get to the excavation site.”
“And exactly when did you inform us you would be starting this morning?”
“I called and left a message on Friday afternoon.”
“With whom?” Carrie felt her eyebrow rise. “I didn’t take a call from you, Ms.—”
The dark brows drew down. “Somebody by the name of…Phillips, maybe? Some guy in resources.”
“How on earth did you end up with Stan Phillips?”
“What does it matter? I’m wasting fuel and man-hours chatting with you. Under other circumstances, that might be pleasant, but right now, I don’t have time for this. I need you to get Worth on the line for me.”
Carrie snorted. As if there’d ever be a time when a conversation, let alone a chat, with this woman would be on her must-do list. She’d lost count of the times she’d been interrupted. Way too many times to worry about making a professional impression. “That is Ms. Worth, and who might you be exactly?”
“Gina Antonelli. The contractor who’s going to build your new wing if I can actually ever get to work.”
Damn it. That project was a priority, and her baby to boot. Carrie sighed. “Okay, let’s start at the beginning.”
“Let’s not. Just get me the boss.”
Would snarling I am the boss carry any weight at all? Carrie’s jaws tightened and her back molars began to throb. Not a good sign. Not the morning to try her patience. Definitely not anytime, any day to pull a strong-arm act on her. Good looks—okay, fabulous looks—could only get you so far, and in this circumstance, no mileage at all.
“Let me speak slowly so you understand me,” Carrie said, very carefully and very precisely. “Ms. Worth is not available and will not be available until later today, at the earliest.” She held up a finger to forestall the interruption she saw coming. “And…if you have a problem, now or in the future, you will need to explain it to me, and I will be able to assist you. Now, which part is not clear?”
“I understood all of that, quite well, actually.” Antonelli scowled. “My turn. I can’t start work because the necessary permits are not posted. That suggests to me that the inspector has not approved the project. You and your absentee boss are wasting my time and money and, by the way, your own.” She smiled, a smile that suggested, under other circumstances, she might be drop-dead gorgeous, but right now she only reminded Carrie of a very dangerous wild animal.
“Now that,” Carrie said dryly, “is something I might be able to help you with. Where can I reach you? No one is going to be in the municipal offices until at least eight thirty, if we’re lucky.”
“And what am I supposed to do until then? Tell my guys to sit on their hands?”
Carrie gritted her teeth and avoided the response she might have made if she’d been on the field in the midst of a heated game. “If you can’t begin work without the permits, then I don’t see that you have any choice.”
“I hope you people are a little bit better at your job where the sick people are concerned,” Antonelli muttered through clenched teeth. She tossed a business card onto the desk. “You can reach me at that number. Miss.”
Before Carrie could respond, the woman spun on her heel and stalked away. Carrie watched her go, aware her mouth was open. What the hell? Gina Antonelli elevated rude to an art form. She absently noted Antonelli’s stiff-legged gate, as if her left leg didn’t quite bend at the knee, although her ability to stomp didn’t seem impaired. The thought was fleeting as Carrie quickly turned back to her computer and pulled up the contracts for the ER expansion plans. She was going to have to wake some people up. She couldn’t wait for the town supervisor to get to the office, not if she was going to get to the OR in time to see Blake.
*****
Gina slapped on her hard hat and strode through the ER toward the exit into the parking lot. The very same parking lot, currently filled with cars, she planned to turn into a twenty-foot-deep quarter-acre pit, Lord willing and the creek didn’t rise. At least she would be tearing it up if the hospital administrators ever got their butts out of bed and filed the necessary permits. And why the hell was she surprised anyhow? She’d been doing this for going on seven years now. Nothing new about this FUBAR. Dealing with bureaucrats was always a pain in the butt. She should’ve told her father to put Vince in charge of this project. Her brother-in-law could be cooling his heels in the eighty-five-degree sun, and she could be building a NAPA Auto Parts store right now, throwing up rebar and laying down asphalt with no one to bother her. Big enterprises like NAPA knew how to get things done fast. But these private places, especially something as rinky-dink as this hospital, just couldn’t get their acts together. Really, what the blazes? The boss didn’t come in until noon? No wonder they weren’t on top of the project, and now her crew would be behind before they even put backhoe to stone. And of course they were looking at rain in another day or so. So who would hear about it when they came in over schedule and over budget?
“Not the freaking desk jockeys, that’s for sure,” she muttered, skirting a wheelchair someone had double-parked across from the reception area. She glanced in by reflex and a chill ran down her spine. A man and a woman huddled in the corner, his arm around her shaking shoulders, tears streaking both their faces. Gina jerked her gaze away. The road to memory lane was barricaded and long closed to traffic.
“Hey, who pi…sprinkled in your Cheerios this morning?” a boisterous voice called.
Gina slowed and looked over her shoulder at her brother. “Long story. Why are you so freaking jolly?”
Joe Antonelli spread h
is hands and gave her a bright-eyed, happy-as-a-hog-in-mud grin. “I’m about to go off call in an hour, I had an easy night, and I’ve got a hot date tonight. What’s not to be happy about?”
Gina stepped out of the way of an orderly pushing an elderly woman on a stretcher and leaned her shoulder against the tan-tiled wall. Her temper still simmered, but Joe always had a way of taking the heat out of her fury, even when they were kids. Maybe because he was the oldest, and the only boy in the immediate family. Everyone pretty much worshipped him, even her, in secret at least. People said they looked alike but she didn’t see it—he was movie-star handsome in a rough-and-tumble kind of way, big shoulders, broad chest. Swoonworthy, apparently, if the number of girls hanging around him since he was twelve was any indication. She scowled at him. “How about the dimwits in administration don’t have the paperwork in order, and I can’t start the job until they get things sorted out.”
“The new MRI wing?”
“Yeah. Only the biggest job this summer.”
He winced. “That sucks. Man, we’re all waiting on that to get done. I was so pumped when I heard the old man got the bid. He must have done some fancy dealing, because I heard that O’Brien Construction was pushing hard to get the contract.”
“He’s not gonna be real pleased if he sees us all sitting around on our butts.” Gina thumped her boot against the wall. “I don’t even have anyone to chew out, and it’s giving me heartburn.”
“That doesn’t sound like you. Don’t hold it in, you’ll hurt yourself.”
Gina grinned wryly. Okay, maybe she’d chewed out the CEO’s receptionist a bit, but she’d managed not to curse, and that was saying a lot considering the runaround. Not that she made a habit of cursing, especially not in front of women. Hell, if her mother got wind of her using bad language in front of a lady she’d skin her, and somehow Ma had a way of knowing everything. Plus, the receptionist was the one throwing up roadblocks—man, talk about immoveable force. And icy cool.
Gina said, “I was the picture of control.”
“That’ll be the day.” Joe smiled. “I’d help you out if I could, but that’s all above my pay grade. I steer clear of the east wing at all costs.”
Gina sighed. She knew when she was beat, temporarily at least. “So, you still seeing that respiratory therapist? The one you brought to Sunday dinner a couple weeks ago. Wendy?”
“Oh, we’re just friends.”
Gina shook her head. “How do you do that, run through so many so fast and still end up being friends with almost all of them?”
“It’s my winning smile.”
“Uh-huh. Along with the BS line you’ve perfected.”
“Some call that charm.” He lifted a thick black brow. “So what about you?”
“Nothing about me.” Joe was the only one in the family who ever bugged her about her private life. Her father had finally come to terms with her being a lesbian but didn’t talk to her about it. She figured that was his right. Her mother mostly addressed it by bemoaning the fact Gina wouldn’t be providing grandchildren. But they loved her and she knew it. Sometimes that’s as good as it got.
Joe gave her a long look, the kind of contemplative look he gave her when he was trying to judge how she really felt. Luckily, she’d learned to keep the shade pulled down even to him. After a few seconds, he sighed and his expression relaxed. He had the good sense not to push any harder. The last time he’d declared six years ought to be long enough, she’d punched him in the gut, and considering he’d been a battle-ready Marine then, she’d hurt her hand more than she’d hurt him. But he’d gotten the message all the same. Don’t go there.
“So listen,” Gina said, pushing away the old ache that still plagued her when she let it, which wasn’t often any longer, “I gotta go give the guys an update. And then I gotta start rattling as many trees as I can find.”
“Good luck with that.” Joe squeezed her shoulder. “Might all get sorted out before long anyhow. There’s a new administration, and scuttlebutt says they’re pretty decent. Hopefully they’ll get you what you need.”
Gina snorted. “Believe me, if the one I talked to up there is any example, I’m not so sure. Je—” She caught herself as a woman in scrubs walked by. “Jeez, Joe, nobody in authority is available during working hours?”
Joe laughed. “It’s not exactly working hours for the office types, sis.”
Gina glanced at the wall clock. Six thirty. “Okay, but somebody ought to be able to answer a damn phone.”
“Why don’t you go grab another cup of coffee and a doughnut. Maybe it’ll improve your mood.”
“Not likely. Catch me before you go if you get a chance, unless by some miracle I’m actually working.” She gave him a wave and stormed toward the exit, practically slamming into the automatic doors that were way too slow to open. Was everything about this place going to be a pain in the behind? Maybe the pretty redheaded receptionist would actually be able to get something done in time for her to save some of her day. Miracles did happen now and then, right? Her mother believed it, so it must be true.
Chapter Two
Blake wondered if anyone really believed the flimsy striped curtains in the pre-op area actually made anyone feel private. He was pretty certain everyone around him in the logjam of stretchers lined up along one wall could hear his nervous breathing. Not that he was scared, because he wasn’t. He’d been waiting for this moment for what seemed like forever. Still, the next few hours would be weird. He was going to go to sleep, and while he was asleep, everything about him was going to change. When he woke up, his body would be even more different than it had become in the last few years. He’d be closer to looking in the mirror and seeing the reflection of who he knew himself to be. Mostly, he was happy. Only a little bit of him was afraid of the unknown, or if it would hurt a lot or look bad or whether anyone would ever really believe he was who he said he was.
“You scared?” Margie whispered, leaning over the stupid side rail that separated Blake from everyone, taking his hand.
He studied her face, her ocean-blue eyes that were always just a little bit serious, her crazy tangle of wild blond hair, the little hint of a smile that always made him feel like he was special. He threaded his fingers through hers. “Not scared so much. Just, you know, nervous.”
Margie nodded, still serious. “Yeah, I get that. It would be a lot better if you could be awake and watch.”
He laughed. Margie never tried to talk him into feeling differently about anything, but she always had her own ideas, good ones most of the time. This time, he’d pass. “Maybe you’d want to do that. You’d probably figure out a way to talk Flann into letting you too.”
Her smile widened, her eyes brightened, and she laughed lightly. “Well, yeah. She’s my big sister, after all. I usually can.” She tilted her head as if a thought suddenly caught her attention. “And since she’s, you know, your stepparent now, you ought to have an in.”
“No thanks. I pretty much know what’s going to happen anyhow,” Blake said, trying to sound nonchalant. “You know, from the YouTube videos.”
“True, they were cool,” Margie said.
She’d watched them with him, not saying anything until the very end. He’d waited, holding his breath almost, wondering if she would think it was crazy. Or that the way the guys looked after it was done was a turnoff. He should’ve known better than that.
“That was amazing,” Margie said as soon as he’d paused the video. “It makes such a huge difference. In the way they look, sure. But even more in how they feel about themselves. I can see why you want to do it.”
The terrible tension that had been squeezing his insides snapped like a rubber band. She’d said exactly what he needed to hear. She understood. But then, she’d always understood him. Nobody had ever understood him that easily, that deeply. Well, except his mom. He knew he was lucky, really lucky.
“Plus, I’ve got the best surgeon ever,” Blake said. He wasn’t just saying that b
ecause Flann was family now, either. He hung around the hospital enough to hear people talk, and when he was volunteering in the ER he’d seen Flann in action. Flann was the best.
“Also true,” Margie said. “Plus, you have all of us.”
“You don’t have to wait, you know,” Blake said. “Mom will call you when I’m done, or somebody will.”
Margie shook her head. “No way. I’m staying here to make sure your mom is okay. You know how mothers are.”
He grinned. “Yeah, I know. Even when they’re doctors.”
“Even when they’ve raised a whole family of them.” Margie rolled her eyes. “If it was me having surgery, my mom would be in there with Flann.”
Blake snorted. “I’m glad my mom hasn’t tried that with Flann. I’d feel weird with her—”
The curtain parted and Flann stepped in, already in navy scrubs, a surgical mask hanging around her neck. She had sandy hair and brown eyes, but the same penetrating and intense gaze as Margie. The same set to her jaw—confident and sure. “Did I hear my name mentioned?”
Blake half sat up, balancing on his elbows. “Hey.”
Flann paused at the foot of the stretcher, shuffled through some of the papers there, and dropped them after a quick look. “Hey, yourself. How you doing?”
“Good. Great.”
Flann held Blake’s gaze, steady and calm. “You ready?”
Blake wasn’t bothered by the question. He got it. Flann wasn’t testing him or trying to get him to prove he knew what he was doing; she was letting him be in charge, letting him call the shots the way his mom had done every step so far. “I’m totally ready.”
