Hope for Tomorrow Page 3

  Waving good-bye, Anabelle headed out of the CCU, planning to go straight home. Her husband Cameron had called an hour ago to tell her he had picked up a roasted chicken and a loaf of fresh Italian bread at the store.

  As she walked down the hall, her mind wandered to the quilt she and the other ladies in the quilting guild were going to make for the Harvest Festival and the pink or blue baby blanket she planned to make for Ainslee’s first baby—her first grandchild. She rounded the visitor’s lounge, heading for the stairs, when she nearly collided with board member Frederick Innisk.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Innisk, I—”

  “You weren’t watching where you were going,” Innisk interrupted, his arrogance as pronounced as his frown. He stared at the name tag pinned on Anabelle’s white lab coat. “I believe there are rules about not rushing through the hallways, Nurse Scott. You could have run into a patient, opening the hospital up to a possible lawsuit.”

  There were times to argue a point and times to accept criticism, even when it was delivered in a condescending tone. She didn’t care all that much for Frederick Innisk. His superior attitude and the way he brandished his wealth totally annoyed her. Unfortunately, he was right. She might not have been rushing, but her mind had been somewhere else. She definitely could have collided with a patient, and the last thing the hospital needed after suffering through financial troubles just a few months before was a lawsuit.

  Anabelle wouldn’t apologize, though. Instead, she hoped she might be able to find out what he was up to. Board members were rarely seen on the second floor. “Is there something I can help you with?” she asked. “Someone I can help you find?”

  He gazed at his large gold watch. “Is your shift over, or are you just going on duty?”

  This wasn’t a question she wanted to hear, not when she was tired. “I’m on my way home.”

  His brow rose. “And you’ll be back here—in the CCU, if I’m not mistaken—at seven in the morning?”

  Anabelle could only nod. The word yes seemed stuck in her throat. She wasn’t frightened or cowed by anyone, but Frederick Innisk was temperamental and wielded great power around the hospital. If she wasn’t careful, her job—her entire department—could end up in jeopardy.

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  With that ominous pronouncement delivered, Mr. Innisk turned away from Anabelle and headed for the elevator. Anabelle turned the other way. It seemed like a good time to take the stairs on the opposite side of the second floor. Getting away from Mr. Innisk before she said something she might regret was a wise idea.

  Climbing the steps to the third floor, her mind spun with concern. What was going on? She didn’t need Frederick Innisk lurking around the CCU. It was a busy place. There wasn’t time to answer questions from a stuffy board member who had miserly tendencies.

  When she entered the staff lounge, her friends Candace and Elena were gathering up lunch bags from the refrigerator and getting ready to go home. Perfect. Someone to talk to about Innisk.

  Anabelle dropped into one of the lounge chairs. “You’ll never guess who I ran into in the hallway!”

  “I hope it wasn’t Frederick Innisk,” Elena said, blowing a strand of dark brown hair out of her face.

  “Yes,” Anabelle said with a frown. “How’d you know?”

  “I had a run-in with him this morning and it wasn’t the least bit pleasant.”

  “He must be making the rounds,” Candace added, closing the refrigerator door. “He spent time in my birthing class this afternoon. Made me a nervous wreck until I decided that’s probably what he was shooting for.”

  “Probably looking for any old reason to put a black mark in someone’s personnel file, in case he decides to go hunting for people to can,” Elena added, her usual smile gone from her face.

  “You can all rest easy. He won’t be in your wards tomorrow morning. He’ll be in mine,” Anabelle said, shaking her head in dismay, “which means I won’t get an ounce of sleep tonight. I’ll be too worried about what he’s up to—not that I have anything to hide.”

  “Then I suppose I should tell you what happened this morning.” Elena sat down across from Anabelle. “I overheard Innisk arguing with Mr. Varner outside the hospital, and that argument turned into an all-out war in Varner’s office a little while later, with Zane McGarry and Bernard Telford getting into the act.”

  Candace frowned. “What were they arguing about?”

  “I don’t know, but they were shouting and slamming doors and…” Elena dragged in a deep breath and blew it out. “Mr. Varner stormed out of the hospital saying, ‘I’m out of here. Find someone else to do your dirty work.’”

  “Did Mr. Varner quit?” Anabelle asked, shocked that such a thing could have happened. She liked Mr. Varner. Hospital administrators came and went—but he was one of the good guys that no one wanted to see depart.

  “I don’t know if he quit or just needed to get away,” Elena said, “but I hope it’s the latter.”

  “I’m surprised we haven’t heard any rumors yet.” Anabelle normally didn’t like gossip and rarely approved of it, but this was different. It could affect her and her unit.

  “We’re bound to hear something soon,” Elena said. “I doubt that I’m the only one who heard doors slamming right and left or saw Penny in tears.”

  Anabelle ran her fingers through her short gray hair. “I imagine I’ll have nightmares about all of this tonight. But rest assured, when Innisk shows up in the CCU tomorrow, I’ll find out what he’s up to.”

  Chapter Three

  THE TIMING COULDN’T HAVE BEEN WORSE. Leila Hargrave, Anabelle’s supervisor, showed up in the CCU at 7:30 Tuesday morning to talk with Anabelle about the justification she’d included with her request for two half-time registered nurses. Five minutes later, Frederick Innisk walked into the nurses’ station, hands behind his back, and hovered over both women like a vulture. Making it worse, Leila was all business, and she didn’t seem to understand that there could be a problem discussing this issue in front of Innisk.

  “We send our nurses to training on a regular basis, Anabelle.” Leila lowered her short, plump body into a chair next to where Anabelle was sitting. “If they’re not learning how to deal with stress and burnout from the experts, you need to coach them.”

  Keep your cool, Anabelle thought. This was too important to be completely direct and assertive. It would take finesse to acquire the new staff—especially with tightwad Frederick Innisk listening in. “My daytime RNs have worked here for years, and Hope Haven couldn’t ask for more dedicated nurses—they know how to handle stress. But our caseload has increased in the past year or so.”

  “Is that in your weekly reports, Scott?” Frederick Innisk asked, addressing Anabelle by nothing more than her last name, which thoroughly irritated her.

  Anabelle wasn’t going to give Innisk the satisfaction of standing over her. She stood, stepped around her chair, and grasped the back, squeezing it tightly. “I could print out a graph if you’d like, showing you the month-by-month increase and how that number goes even higher at holiday time.”

  “Print it up and have it sent to my secretary,” Mr. Innisk said. Anabelle had thought he’d take her word for it, but that had obviously been wishful thinking. “I’d like to see it before the end of the day.”

  “I haven’t had the opportunity to look at Anabelle’s graphs yet,” Leila said, turning her gray-eyed gaze toward Mr. Innisk. “Let me take a look at them, and I’ll have them sent over to you.”

  “There were hourly charts with my report too,” Anabelle added. She’d been thorough, knowing that her justification would be completely dissected. “They show the busiest times of the day, which seem to occur early in the morning, right around shift-change time, and again in the afternoon at shift change, when patients are getting out of surgery. That’s why I requested two half-time positions, so they can overlap during shift changes.”

  Anabelle wanted to add that if she weren’t req
uired to do so much paperwork, she’d have more time for nursing, which would help immensely. But complaining about the amount of administrative work hadn’t helped any of the hospital’s supervisors. Paperwork had become a fact of life.

  “Do you think having eight extra RN hours per day will be enough?” Leila asked, taking Anabelle by surprise. She sounded like she might agree with Anabelle that the half-time positions were needed.

  Innisk immediately shut down Leila’s curiosity. “Nurse Scott asked for part-time help. I suggest you not offer or even recommend anything more. This request is already excessive.”

  “Stress is a grave problem for nurses,” Leila said, “especially those working in Critical Care Units. Inadequate staffing has been a problem at hospitals around the country.”

  “Provide me with reports on this problem. I want to see statistics, recommendations and what has been done in these other hospitals you say are experiencing problems.”

  There were dozens of reports. Anabelle had them stored in her computer, and she could easily print out hundreds of pages on the subject—or take Mr. Innisk to a meeting of the American Association of Critical Care Nurses. Let him hear firsthand what stress and burnout were doing to the men and women who dedicated their lives to caring for critically ill patients. But it all came down to finances for him. A nurse’s health and well-being didn’t seem to enter his narrow frame of reference.

  “I want this information by the end of the day.” Innisk stared down his nose at Leila. “And contact my secretary to set up a meeting to discuss this further. Tomorrow would be good.”

  He didn’t even bother to say good-bye before leaving the CCU, which was probably a good thing. Anabelle might have said something she’d regret.

  “I’ll give you a call after I look at the charts,” Leila said, pushing herself out of the chair. “But convincing Innisk of something when his mind’s already made up is nearly impossible.”

  Anabelle took a sip of her coffee, which had grown cold during the impromptu meeting. It tasted awful, but she needed something to help her swallow the bitter lump in her throat.

  “Have you ever worked in Intensive Care or Cardiac Care?” Anabelle asked Leila, not that she really wanted an answer. “The work is never-ending. The nurses rarely take a break; and more often than not, they work through their lunch hours. They’re constantly on the alert, watching monitors, changing IVs, administering medications—and then there are the emergencies, when everyone comes running and controlled chaos takes place.”

  “I’ve been there, Anabelle. I know what you’re going through.” Leila bit her cheek, looking like she was contemplating saying something more. Apologizing for bringing up the staffing request in front of Innisk, maybe?

  Anabelle liked Leila. She was a tough lady and a good administrator, but she knew as well as Anabelle that the hospital operated on a tight budget.

  “I’ll take a thorough look at your request, Anabelle, and I’ll see if I can set up a meeting with Zane McGarry to discuss finances before meeting with Innisk.”

  “What about Albert Varner? Shouldn’t he be in on a meeting like this?” Anabelle hoped she might learn a little something about the argument between Varner and Innisk. “Mr. Varner’s fair-minded. He understands stress and—”

  “He’s not in the office today, and I don’t know if he’ll be in the office before we meet with Mr. Innisk. Mr. McGarry’s fair-minded too. I’ll state your case as best as I can. I’ll fight for the extra staff. However”—Leila shrugged—“I wouldn’t count on getting extra help, not even for a short period of time—like the holiday season.”

  Leila’s parting comment pretty much spelled doom.

  Anabelle took another sip of cold coffee, picked up her stethoscope, draped it around her neck and headed off to check on one of the patients. There wasn’t time to mope around in the CCU, and she wouldn’t let the nurses she supervised know that she was upset. They didn’t need the added stress.

  Anabelle didn’t need it either. But it came part and parcel with the job.

  Chapter Four

  BUNDLED UP IN A NAVY PEACOAT AND AN AUTUMN-colored scarf one of her patients had given her a few years back, Elena walked out of the hospital at three thirty Wednesday afternoon, half an hour after her shift ended. She needed a good, brisk walk to get rid of the tension that had been building up inside her the past few days. Even though the sun was hidden behind a sky full of ominous gray clouds, she decided to head uptown. With luck it wouldn’t rain, and she’d come back for her car later.

  Slinging the handles of her tote bag over her shoulder, Elena strolled along the path leading to Bureau Street. It was only a few blocks to Once Upon A Time, the store where Anabelle’s daughter worked. She hadn’t seen Ainslee in a few weeks and wanted to find out how she was feeling—if she was suffering morning sickness, or if her pregnancy had been a piece of cake so far. Of course, while there, she planned to see if the owner would donate a gift certificate or some other item for the festival’s auction.

  She might even treat herself to something pretty or fun—if the price was right.

  The usual traffic was making its way up and down Bureau Street. It was a far cry from heavy—no honking horns, no road rage—but there were enough cars traveling through this part of town that the city council had finally declared it imperative that WALK and DON’T WALK signals be installed at all the cross streets surrounding Hope Haven.

  Not one to do anything slowly, Elena dashed across the street the moment the green WALK light flashed. She hustled endlessly on her job, never took an elevator when she could take stairs, and she and Cesar jogged five miles a minimum of twice a week, weather permitting. The exercise, the sun, the wind and even the rain and snow helped to clear her head and could relieve almost any tension she stored up.

  Shopping calmed her nerves, as well. And, of course, scoring a bargain was as exciting as watching Cesar, her police officer husband—still good-looking, still fit and trim at forty-eight—slam-dunk the basketball or run for a touchdown when he played with the guys.

  Ten minutes after leaving the hospital, Elena ducked into Once Upon A Time, a kitschy vintage shop filled with fashions and accessories that had been all the rage from the twenties to the sixties. It sat in between the ultradecadent Chocolate Garden, which made the most scrumptious dark chocolate and raspberry truffles this side of heaven, and Clyde’s Donuts, where she and Cesar often stopped when they took a morning jog. Cesar would have plain old black coffee and two maple bars. Elena ignored the pastry, but would order a tall cup of café mocha, with extra cocoa stirred in for good measure, plus a fat dollop of whipped cream to lick off before taking the first sip.

  When she entered the store, a recording of Perry Como crooning “Don’t Let the Stars Get in Your Eyes” could be heard in the background, and she found herself humming along with one of her grandmother’s favorite singers. Elena looked around for Ainslee or the owner, but the only person she saw was a tall young girl with bleached blonde hair waving about her face in a Veronica Lake do, wearing a post–World War II blue velvet pantsuit.

  With no one to talk with about the donation, Elena headed straight to the fifties nook, looking for a sweater set with a Peter Pan collar or something similar, hopefully in pink and carefully preserved for over half a century. Something that would go perfectly with skinny black pants. But nothing jumped out at her, except for an adorable twinset that might fit a size 2. Elena was much closer to a 10.

  Oh well, someone else would have to score a bargain on that lovely sweater.

  Walking about under the sparkling light from the pink crystal chandelier, looking at a host of other fun items, she recalled the pink poodle skirt she’d gotten here several years back, when she and Cesar attended a party with a bunch of his fellow Deerford police officers. She’d found decently priced pedal pushers here, too, which were much cuter than the new-style capris she’d seen elsewhere.

  Her mother was a child of the fifties, but it was Elena wh
o’d gravitated toward that period. Lucy Ricardo could have stepped out of the TV set and been perfectly comfortable in Elena’s retro home, with its starburst clock hanging above the fireplace and the chrome dinette set in the kitchen she and Cesar had remodeled almost five years ago, with a black-and-white checkerboard vinyl floor and turquoise stove, dishwasher and fridge.

  The house might not be big or fancy, but it was her dream home.

  When none of the clothes begged to be worn by Elena, she moved on to the accessories, eyeing the chunky Bakelite bracelets, earrings and pins. Most of it was too expensive. Basic, cheap plastic was more her style; but every once in a while, a really good deal would pop up, and then she’d have angst over buying it. She worked hard and Cesar never begrudged her a thing, but reality usually ruled the day. Tucking money into Izzy’s future college fund or the Cesar-and-Elena-travel-the-world-in-retirement piggy bank was more important.

  “Find something you can’t live without?”

  Elena spun around to find James Bell walking toward her, eyeing the jewelry as he got close.

  “If I were rich, I wouldn’t live without it.” She slid a bangle bracelet on her arm and admired it in the chandelier’s glowing light. “Unfortunately, I’m far from rich.”

  “That makes two of us, but I need a gift for Fern.” James, a good friend and one of the RNs in the Medical/Surgical Unit, flinched as he looked at the price tags affixed to a few of the more expensive pieces of jewelry on top of the display counter.

  “Lucky woman. I can’t imagine Cesar shopping in here for me. He’d rather hit up the local hardware store.”

  James laughed. “That’s my idea of shopping, too, but coming in here should take my mind off Frederick Innisk.”

  Elena found herself rolling her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve had a run-in with him too.”