into the school routine first, then I’ll think about the afternoons. Only mornings now.”
He went through the same two-step with her over salary. She opted for hourly pay with time-and-a-half if she worked on Saturdays. He agreed, thinking he got a bargain. It was impossible to find professional help in the area. He’d lucked out.
“So how did you happen to come to town?” he asked after her lunch was served and his cup refilled with fresh coffee.
“I wanted to live someplace different. When I saw a notice for a school nurse here and looked the town up on the map, I thought this was the place.”
“Where did you see the notice?”
“On the Internet.”
“I see. Then?”
“Then I responded to the ad, found out it involved teaching and, since I had teaching credentials for first aid, health and beginning nursing care, I was accepted.”
“Some of the cowboys who came to town Friday night were real glad when they saw you walking on the path by the lake. We don’t get many redheaded beauty queens here.”
Again she laughed, and again the heat flowed like sweet, warm honey through him.
“I think I’m glad, too,” he murmured.
Her eyes met his, widened, then looked away. “I don’t date the boss,” she said with prim modesty.
“Neither do I. But dinner with a colleague is okay.” Glancing at the wall clock—a picture of the mountains painted on a polished pine slab with the dial mounted at the corner—he found it was time to be getting back. “Duty calls,” he said. “Can you start in the morning?”
“Yes. I’ll be there. At eight.”
“Good.” He paid the bill for both of them over her protests. “Consider it a welcome luncheon,” he told her, feeling jaunty and pleased about their deal, before heading to the office for afternoon hours.
There was something intriguing about the new school nurse, something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. A mystery. Perhaps she’d come here because she was running from something. A painful past? A possessive boyfriend? A scandal? There were lots of possibilities.
Washing up before seeing his afternoon patients, he considered the careful distance she maintained from others. He’d always been a sucker for a challenge.
Returning to the B and B upon finishing her lunch, Shelby stepped over the threshold and paused. There seemed to be a meeting going on.
“Come on in,” Amelia called. “We’re having a committee meeting, part of the Historical Society.”
“We can use all the help we can get,” one very elderly lady told her, the lines in her face all crinkling at once into a charming, ageless smile.
“Grab a glass of tea and some cookies,” Amelia advised. “This is going to be a long session.”
Shelby was pulled into the group of four women and found herself seated, sipping tea and earnestly considering the committee’s project—compile a brief historical listing of all the old families who had settled the area, where they’d come from, who their descendants were, and how many generations were represented.
“A sort of genealogy of the valley,” Amelia concluded two hours later. “I think it will have to be tied to the land as land titles are usually the most common records.”
“Exactly,” the elderly lady said, beaming.
Shelby learned Miss Pickford, president of the Historical Society, was also descended from a First Family of Idaho, as were the Daltons. The woman was almost eighty, had taught in a two-room school in the county, had retired fifteen years ago, was kin to the Daltons and nearly everyone else in the area, and was universally loved. She had blue eyes and lovely silver hair and a soft, thoughtful way of speaking that made one instinctively trust her.
After the meeting broke up, Shelby and Amelia lingered over fresh glasses of tea and chatted about the task ahead.
Amelia laughed softly. “Welcome to the newest member of the Historical Society.” She toasted Shelby with her glass.
“I don’t know how that happened,” Shelby admitted with more than a hint of wry humor.
“I do,” her landlady said confidently. “Miss Pickford could get money and a pledge to participate in a Christmas toy fund-raiser from the Grinch.”
“I think you’re right. We need to find out about her early teaching days here,” Shelby said thoughtfully. “She must know tons of interesting stories and anecdotes.”
“Hmm, she could probably blackmail ninety percent of the population over the age of thirty since she taught most of them. My parents had her when the school board opened the elementary school here for one through eighth grades and closed all the county schools.”
A bolt of excitement shot through Shelby. The teacher might have known her parents, too. Her mother could have been a student who got pregnant and went away to have the baby, perhaps living with relatives in South Carolina and giving the baby up for adoption there.
She took a calming breath, aware that she was letting her imagination run wild. One thing at a time.
Amelia snapped her fingers. “Old Doc Barony’s records!”
“In the attic,” Shelby added, following the line of thought perfectly.
“Yes. In your spare time…” Amelia said, giving her a big grin, “maybe you could record the names of patients—oh, and the dates any of them died and any children born—then we could compare those to the county title records to make sure we got everyone.”
Shelby’s heart went into a series of rapid beats. Birth. Death. Names. Dates. Diseases and disorders. Those records might tell her everything she needed to know.
“That’s a possibility,” she said, careful to keep her voice blandly interested.
“You’d have to ask Beau, but I don’t see any reason he’d refuse. I mean, you’re a nurse, so you’d keep everything confidential.”
“Right,” Shelby said. “In fact, I’m going to be working for Dr. Dalton. In the mornings.” She explained all that had happened that day—the canceling of the health classes and her acceptance of Beau’s offer.
“Perfect,” Amelia declared, rising. She glanced at her watch. “Time to start preparing the evening snacks. I have a new recipe for crab-apple dip, as in seafood mixed with fresh chopped apples, that I want to try tonight. Come to the kitchen and we can talk while I cook.”
Shelby followed her new friend into the spacious kitchen. The cook who did the breakfast menu was gone for the day, and the two younger women had it to themselves.
“Here, taste this and see if it has too much chili powder.” Amelia handed her a cracker with a generous dollop of the dip.
“I think it’s delicious. Shall I start on a vegetable tray or something?”
“Sure.
