Chapter 1

“Trouble, at your service.” Jasper strode into the nursing home office and sprawled in the chair across from the director’s desk. “But I’m innocent. As usual.”

Bette raised one iron-gray eyebrow. “So the wheelchair race in the west hallway? Not your idea?”

“I would never put the residents in that kind of danger.”

“The dinner rolls flying out the rec room window?” Her other eyebrow went upward.

“Definitely not me. And you have got to show me how you do that eyebrow thing.”

“Never. I’ve used it to break lesser men than you.”

Jasper laughed. “Innocent, I tell you. But you have to admit, those rolls are denture-breakers, Bette.” He put up his hands. “I’m just here visiting my father, and things happen, and then you haul me in here and read me my rights.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. If you didn’t bring us the best coffee in Montana, I’d boot you for good—father or no father.” Bette shook her head as she got up to close the door, then eased herself back down into her chair. She hid a grimace, but not quite soon enough for him to miss it. That, plus the closed door, set off an alarm in his gut.

She took a deep breath. “So I’ve got some news, but it doesn’t leave this room. Got it?”

“Okay?”

“Looks like I’m going to be out for a little while.” She sat back, crossing her arms. “And I need you to promise you’ll go easy on the woman coming in to take my place. Save your shenanigans for when I get back.”

Jasper studied her. In the four years he’d known Bette, she’d taken exactly zero sick days, and even on her vacation days, she checked in twice by email and once by phone.

“So by out, do you mean you’ll be doing tequila shots on a Mexican beach? Climbing the Eiffel Tower? Something like that?”

“Both of those.” She rolled her eyes. “But first, I have to stop by the hospital for a little procedure.”

“Procedure?”

“Surgery.” She practically spat the word, like it was a thing reserved for lesser women. “Not a big deal. Just age and gravity taking their toll.”

“You’re having plastic surgery?”

Bette leveled him with a look, then pulled back her cheeks with her fingers. “Honey, these cheek sags are way too far gone for anyone in plastics to rescue.”

“Well, gravity.” He shrugged. “Sorry. You said ‘gravity.’ ”

“Gravity has a way of playing with more than skin, and that’s all I’m saying on the subject. I’ll probably be good as new two days afterward, but I’m not allowed to lift anything for twelve weeks, so I’ve been kindly asked to take a long-term leave.”

“Twelve weeks?”

“I know. But the HR peeps in the central office weren’t in a negotiating mood on this one. I tried.”

“Bette, no offense, but you will go nuts if you have to spend three months sitting on your butt at home.”

“I have no plans to sit anywhere. As soon as I have the all-clear, I’ve got a Tahiti beach bookmarked. I’ll send you a postcard.”

Jasper studied her face for a long moment, reading an undertone of fear in her casual treatment of whatever this surgery was. Twelve weeks sounded like pretty serious recovery time—more serious than a gravity-induced issue, anyway.

“Now, don’t be asking nosy questions.” She straightened some papers on her desk, avoiding his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

Jasper pressed his lips together. Dammit, he’d known her long enough to know something was definitely wrong, but she had pulled on her screw-the-universe-I-got-this mask. She might treat him like the son she’d never had, but he knew she wasn’t going to give him any more details, and the thought of her facing something big by herself bugged the hell out of him.

But pushing at her would only get him tossed out of her office, so…fine. He’d match her tone and pretend that nothing was wrong, too.

“So when’s the new director coming?”

“Temporary director.” She put up a warning finger. “And Tuesday.”

His eyebrows shot upward. “That’s four days from now.”

“A-plus in calendar awareness, Jasper.”

“When’s your surgery?”

“Also Tuesday. Home office couldn’t get her here any sooner.”

“And you didn’t think to maybe mention it till today?”

Bette sighed, crossing her arms again. “Didn’t know till yesterday. And I don’t want you gathering your cronies at the coffee shop, making out meals-on-wheels delivery schedules and leaf-raking schedules and check-in-on-the-invalid schedules.” She shivered. “No, thank you.”

“Cronies? Am I ninety?” Jasper rolled his eyes. His downtown coffee shop catered to plenty of Carefree’s retired population, but it also pulled in everyone from age sixteen on up, because he had the best coffee west of the Mississippi.

It was a thing.

“You know what I mean. Don’t be wrangling people to fuss over me. You wrangle better than anybody I know, and in this case, that’s not a compliment.”

“Gotcha.” He nodded slowly. “But if, say, I were to show up a couple of times a week with a home-cooked meal?”

“Well, that’s different. It’s you. That’d be fine.”

He smiled. “And if, say, I got a couple of teenagers to come rake your lawn? Not the worst thing?”

“Well, I mean, the leaves are gonna fall. And they’re gonna need raking. So if you know any bored teens, then sure. I’ve got rakes.”

“I’ll see what I can do. But I’ll make sure nobody even thinks about doing something nice for you while you’re out.”

“As long as we’re clear.” She rolled her eyes again. “I’m still in charge.”

“Speaking of which”—he looked at her impossibly messy desk—“who is the temporary person? And are you going to clear her a spot in your hoarder’s den here?”

Bette glanced at her monitor, squinting. “Emma Winthrop. Straight from the Florida home office.”

“Home office? Does she have any experience in an actual nursing home?”

“Not that I can tell.” She shook her head. “Looks like a paper-pusher to me, and I’m sure she’s thrilled as hell to get plucked out of her air-conditioned Florida office and sent up here to Montana, just as the snow’s about to fly.”

“As anyone would be.”

“So, seriously. You think you can behave while I’m gone?”

“Define behave.”

“Oh, I don’t know—walk in the front door three times a week, head down the hallway to visit your father like a normal human, and then leave?”

Jasper laughed. “I only came through the window once, and that was because—never mind. You already know why.”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes. “So you could fall dramatically back out of it after your father Nerfed you to death.”

“It was fun.” He sobered. “It was one of his best days, and you know it.”

Her face softened. “I know. And I love you for doing it, but here’s the thing—you do that kind of thing for the new girl, and she’s gonna have 9-1-1 on the line before you get your ass-end over the windowsill.”

“Language, Bette.”

“Just promise me you’ll be…normal? No more wheelchair races? No sneaking into the kitchen with your father’s roommate and stealing brownies? None of that stuff?”

“There was suspicion of Ex-Lax. We were investigating.”

“Jasper!”

He threw up his hands. “Okay, okay. I promise I’ll go easy on the new girl. I will try not to cause a rescue call until at least week two. By then, you’ll be ready to defend me.”

“You’re impossible.”

“A point of pride, thank you.”

“All right.” She motioned toward the door. “Get out of here. Go visit your dad. And do not be the reason Miss Winthrop has to call me, okay?”

Jasper stood up, then walked around the desk. He leaned down and hugged Bette’s shoulders, knowing she’d never stand up and let him hug her for real.

“Give the doctors hell, okay?”

“Absolutely.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Better be, or I’ll be firing Horace and taking over the kitchen here.”

She patted his hand. “Be good to the new girl.”

“Sorry.” He shook his head as he headed for the door. “Can’t make any promises in that department.”

“So? How’d your promotion meeting go?” Late that afternoon, Ariana scooted into the booth where Emma was already sitting. She tied her long, curly red hair into a twisty knot, then stabbed through it with a pencil. “Are we Cancún-bound? Or Bermuda? Because either’s fine. I’m happy to spend your raise on any tropical beach you can afford.”

Emma took a deep breath, still trying to process the meeting she’d just had with Duncan Adams, her supervisor at Superior Health.

She couldn’t process it.

She’d gone in fully expecting gold stars and rainbows, and a key to a new office upstairs. She’d come out with a packing list and a plane ticket to Montana.

“Em?” Ari dipped her head to meet Emma’s eyes.

Emma closed her eyes. “No raise. Also, no tropical island.”

“What?” Ari got suddenly serious. “Oh, my God. Did you get laid off? Fired?”

“No.” And thank God for that, at least. But not the rest. “It looks like—I’m being temporarily relocated.”

Ari’s eyes went wide. “Relocated to where?”

“Carefree, Montana.”

“Montana?”

“Yep. For three months.”

Ariana put up a hand, shaking her head like she was recovering from a double shot of Wild Turkey. “What’s in Montana?”

Emma blew out a slow breath. “Penguins, polar bears, and a nursing home that falls under the Galway Health banner.”

“I actually think penguins are only found in—”

“I was joking.”

“Why are they sending you there? I thought you’d already done all of the required on-site stints.”

“Because Duncan still feels like I have—quote—excellent leadership potential in the organization, but before we talk about promotional opportunities, he’d like me to—quote again—spend a little more time on the ground floor, in our facilities.”

“Are you kidding me? You have a master’s degree in Healthcare Administration. You’ve given ten years to that company. You’ve already done monthlong shifts in three different states. You’re completely promotable.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“What does he want you to do up there?”

“The director has to have emergency surgery or something, so they need a temporary replacement.”

“You’re going to direct a nursing home?”

“Put your eyebrows back down.”

“Sorry.” Ari cringed. “But…running a place? Are you—do you—how? You work in an office. You’ve never—”

“I know. Apparently my excellent research and policy experience is just the right match for this position.” Emma rolled her eyes. “Which is bullshit I can’t even believe Duncan fed me.”

“So you’ve got forty-eight hours to figure out how to run an entire nursing home?”

“With the full disposal of everyone here should I need them for help or advice, yadda yadda.”

“Well, shit.”

Emma smiled. Ari never swore.

“I know.”

They had planned to spend tonight celebrating her promotion, her raise, her extra two weeks of vacation time. She’d planned to gorge on good Mexican food and even better margaritas, and then to go home, call the Realtor about that little cottage on the water, and finally feel like she’d climbed enough rungs to impress her father.

Maybe.

Probably not.

But maybe.

Instead, she’d be having the two-taco special, with only one margarita, and she’d be going home to pack for a free-breakfast hotel in Big Sky country. Instead of calling her parents with the news of her big promotion, she’d be calling to give them a temporary Montana address that would have them shaking their heads in disappointment.

In lieu of buying a soft white couch with bright blue pillows, she’d be buying—well, probably a coat.

She loved Florida. She loved the ocean, loved the sun, even loved the heat that other people complained about incessantly. Her favorite season was fall, when the humidity fell off a bit, the nights came a little earlier, and the northern birds started showing up for the winter.

Damn birds were smart. Everyone knew you flew south for the winter, not north.

“But…only twelve weeks, right?” Ariana broke into her thoughts. “So, like, not forever.”

“Right. Just twelve.”

“And there will be plenty of people who know how the place runs, right? Other employees?”

“I sure as heck hope so.”

“You’ll be great. You will. The twelve weeks will zip right by. And who knows? Montana is cowboy country, right? Maybe you’ll meet a real, live cowboy, fall crazy in love, and elope to Vegas.”

“Ari?” Emma knocked on the table. “Reality calling. Anyone home?”

“Could happen. I’m just saying.”

“I think you need less romance novels in your life. Just saying.”

“Probably. But I like happily-ever-afters. And this is the perfect setup. Lonely, career-focused woman gets plucked out of her mundane existence, airlifted to cowboy country, and finds herself among the big sky and tumbleweeds. Or—you know—glaciers.”

Emma laughed. “I’ll try not to take offense at your liberal use of the words lonely and mundane.”

“It’ll be great.” Ari pasted on her kindergarten-teacher everything-is-awesome face and patted Emma’s hand. “Just go out there, do your thing, and hope nobody dies on your watch.”

“Right. Just that. God, Ari. I’m so sunk.”

Ari grabbed her hand fiercely. “It’s going to be okay. Just don’t lose anybody, and don’t kill anybody, right? I mean, what can possibly happen in that short a time?”

Emma closed her eyes. The long, long list of what-could-possibly-happens was going to populate her nightmares until she got on the plane.