Heart Like Mine

 

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Table of Contents

About the Author

Copyright Page

 

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For my daughters …

 

May they someday find their own imperfect heroes

 

Acknowledgments

Heart Like Mine
marks the third book in the Echo Lake series, and I'm thrilled beyond words that I've had the chance to “live” in this magical little town for the past couple of years. I'm immensely grateful to the following people for their help in making this dream a reality:

To Courtney Miller-Callihan, my sweet, fabulous agent—2016 marks our 5th anniversary, and I couldn't be more thankful that a little under-the-bed book brought us together.

To Holly Ingraham, my fantastic, wonderful editor—Thank you so much for helping me bring the Echo Lake series to life! I'm so honored to be on your team!

To Lizzie Poteet, extra-special pinch-hitting editor—Huge thanks for stepping in when Home-team Holly became an instant foursome. It was such a pleasure to work with you!

To Jennifer Brodie, my critique partner and friend—There are no words big enough to thank you for all you do! Someday, we'll do that white-sand beach … and stay for a month.

To the real Millie, Therese, and Kenderly—Super-sweet, generous members of my street team. I hope you love the characters you get to be in this book. And to the rest of my street team—Thank you for your energy and support! I'm a lucky gal to have you!

To the Bartlett Bunnies—Plotters first … friends forever.

And of course, to my family. My love for you is endless and indescribable.

 

Chapter 1

The CFO's office smelled of sweat, burnt coffee, and tears. That's all Delaney Blair could think as she sat in the guest chair, awaiting her doom.

Six people had sat in this same chair over the past week, and every single one of them had left with an HR escort and the ironic farewell gift of a Mercy Hospital mug and tote bag. On the outside, she was a successful financial analyst dressed in a charcoal power suit, a pasted-on smile, and her favorite Jimmy Choos. On the inside, she harbored a pod of baby grasshoppers.

As Gregory fidgeted with his pen, she tried to calculate how long her savings account would pay the mortgage on her brand-new condo.

Not very long.

“Am I being laid off, Gregory? Please just tell me.”

“No.” He sighed, shaking his head. “But when you hear what I have to say, you're probably going to wish you were.”

He rubbed both hands over his face in frustration, a move that sent Delaney's grasshoppers scrambling for cover. She'd never seen Gregory be anything but composed and professional.

“I've got an assignment for you, but … you're not going to like it. The board met yesterday, and what came out of the meeting was a fairly dire directive.” He sighed, sitting back in his chair. “We need to make serious, across-the-board cuts, or the hospital isn't going to be able to meet its obligations this year.”

“
How
across the board?”

“Every department. Every budget.”

Delaney sank into her own chair, closing her eyes. She and Gregory both knew there were departments already operating on shoestrings. Such was the fate of small-town hospitals everywhere, but in rural Vermont, it was even more pronounced. With Boston—and its corral of high-powered hospitals—sitting mere hours away, wealthier, well-insured patients could choose to drive the extra hours for care. That left smaller hospitals like Mercy picking up emergencies and fighting for dollars from a rural population that struggled to make ends meet.

Delaney pulled out her yellow-lined pad and uncapped her pen, trying to let relief that she still had a job overpower the distinct
Mission: Impossible
theme song creeping into her brain.

“Okay, what kind of timeline are we on?”

“The board wants proposals in thirty days.”

Delaney's jaw dropped. “One month? They're giving us a
month
?”

“I know.” He sighed. “I have a feeling the people we've already had to let go are just the beginning.”

“So I assume you've assigned me a list of departments?” She gripped the pen to stop her fingers from shaking. How was she going to squeeze blood from granite?

“I'm giving you just one, to start with. The board agreed to a focused list for this first round of cuts, and then we'll target the next tier the following month.”

“Okay. Who pulled the first-round short straw?”

Gregory paused, taking a deep breath. “Pediatrics.”

“Pedi—what?” Delaney's pen hit the carpet. “You're assigning me to cut
pediatric
funding?”

Gregory stood up and paced to the window, then back toward her, leaning on the corner of his desk. He pointed to his face. “Do you see these bags under my eyes? This is from staying up for the past three nights trying to figure this all out. I didn't want to give you this department.”

“So why did you?”

“Because I
more
didn't want to give it to somebody else. It's your baby, Delaney.”

“I know! So why would I possibly want to cut anything?”

“You won't. But if I don't give this assignment to you, I'll have to give it to Kevin. Would you want
him
to take a knife to that budget?”

Delaney shook her head quickly, picturing the blond buffoon in the office next to hers. “God, no.”

“Rock and a hard place, Delaney. That's where we're at here. I know it'll kill you to cut these numbers, but I figured it would kill you far more to watch somebody
else
do it. I know I can depend on you to take a measured, objective approach. I'm not sure I can say the same for—others.”

Delaney leaned down to pick up her pen, emotions whirling.
Dammit!
The pediatric budget was singularly
the
most unpopular place to start playing slice and dice, and here she was, assigned to do just that.

“Is the board aware that we risk losing vital programming? Or personnel?”

He nodded, jaw tight. “Yes, but we're out of options. We just need to figure out how to have the least patient impact possible while we're making budget adjustments.”

“Is that what we're supposed to call them?” Delaney shook her head. “Are we supposed to be transparent about this process? Do department heads know where the numbers are at here?”

Gregory sighed. “If they don't, then they've been burying their heads in the proverbial sand. We should be able to expect cooperation, but you know as well as I do that no department head in this hospital is going to volunteer to cut his or her own programs. We're up against a whole maze of walls here, Delaney.”

She nodded slowly, her brain whirling. “Do I have a target dollar figure? A percentage? What am I working with here?”

Gregory paused before walking back around to the other side of the desk to grab a clipped pile of paper. He handed it to her, his face grim as he pointed to a figure on the bottom of the top page.

“That's your target figure.”

Delaney stared at the numbers until they swam in front of her eyes. There was no way—
no possible freaking way
—to cut that much money out of the pediatric budget.
Any
budget.

“Gregory—”

“I know.” He patted her twice on the shoulder before he headed for his door and opened it. “I'd suggest shifting whatever work you can to Megan for the next few weeks, to give you some space to work on this.”

She stood up, clearly dismissed. “Thank you. For not firing me.”

He smiled, his eyes tired. “Glad I could make
somebody
happy today.”

“I'm not sure
happy—
”

“I know.” He pointed to the papers, his tone returning to dead serious. “We've got to make this work, Delaney. If we don't, I'm afraid we might both get a mug and an HR escort by the end of the month.”

*   *   *

Ten hours later, Delaney took a long sip of her frozen margarita, longing for the tequila to dull the day into oblivion. She and Megan had scored an outside table at Mexicali, the newest restaurant in town, and five minutes later, had scored drinks designed to dull the pain of
any
day.

Situated in a converted mill building in downtown Echo Lake, Mexicali's high wooden beams, warm brick walls, and killer location overlooking the Abenaki River had already made it one of the most popular restaurants in town. In Delaney's opinion, though, the location fell second to the warm, homemade tortilla chips and margaritas that came with a two-per-night limit.

She lifted her hair off her neck, trying to catch the slight breeze. The only reason they'd actually
gotten
an outside table was because it was actually too hot to be out here baking on the deck, but she could never resist the lure of the river.

Megan fished in her hobo bag, coming up with a rubber band. She twisted her own long, blond curls into a convoluted bun, then wrapped the band around it. Delaney envied her assistant's long peasant skirt and loose blouse tonight. It sure looked cooler than the business suit Delaney still hadn't had time to change out of.

Megan perused the menu. “Are we doing the nachos?”

“Do fish swim?”

“Most do. At least the ones that aren't left with
you
for a long weekend.” Megan arched an eyebrow, and Delaney cringed.

“I've apologized, like, a million times. I had no idea Mrs. Riley's cat knew how to sneak onto my porch. Or that she had a penchant for goldfish.”

“I won't be having you babysit my someday-children, in case you're wondering.”

Delaney shivered dramatically. “Excellent decision.”

She looked over the railing at the river, which was still flowing at a pretty good clip for July in Vermont. As she watched the water, a memory flashed into her head—big inner tubes, a hot summer day, lots of splashing and laughing … an ambulance.

She shook her head quickly, blinking her eyes hard.