Special Blessings Page 3

  But as she checked her e-mail before leaving, she found a message from the new CIO's office. Skip Mullen wanted her to stop by his office before she left.

  Heaving a sigh, she headed for the elevator. As she rode down, she wondered what on earth Skip Mullen could want with her.

  The door of his office on the first floor administrative wing was open.

  Anabelle rapped on the frame for formality's sake; and when he invited her to come in, she entered the room.

  “Anabelle.” Skip rose from his executive chair and clasped her hand across the desk between them. “It's nice to see you. I’m always hearing good things about your dedication to Hope Haven.”

  Anabelle laughed a bit self-consciously. “I can't imagine from whom.”

  “Dr. Hamilton, for one,” Skip said, taking her comment seriously. “And Leila Hargrave. In fact, it was Leila's idea to ask you here today. Would you like to have a seat?”

  Anabelle sank into one of the chairs angled in front of the desk, wiggling her aching toes inside her practical walking sneakers. The footwear had cost a fortune, but with the amount of time the nurses were on their feet, shoes with good arch support and cushioning were imperative. “What did Leila volunteer me for?” she asked with a wry grin.

  Skip grinned and came around to perch on the front edge of the desk. “I presume you've heard the news about the Quest for Excellence Award nomination.”

  Anabelle nodded. “Yes. Everybody's talking about it.”

  Skip nodded. “The award committee sent a dossier of information—questions for us to answer—and I'm putting together a committee to work on it. As the nursing administrator, Leila would have been a logical choice, but she informed me that she's going on vacation during the time that we'd be meeting. Since we're under a time constraint, obviously that won't work, so she suggested you.”

  “Oh. That was nice of her.”

  “Don't thank her until you’ve seen the amount of work required.” Skip grinned as he offered her a manila folder containing several pieces of paper. “As the stand-in for the nursing administrator, your job will be to complete any information regarding the nursing program. I’ve highlighted those questions for you.”

  Anabelle absently plucked her reading glasses from the breast pocket of her lab coat and set them on her nose as she began to leaf through the folder. “Is Leila taking care of these statistics before she leaves?” she asked, pointing to one section. “I imagine these kinds of things are kept in some kind of database.”

  “They are. Leila didn't have time to pull anything together, but her assistant has instructions to help you in any way she can, particularly with the sections that require gathering empirical data. Just tell her what you need.”

  “That will be helpful.” Anabelle glanced over the questions a second time. “Anecdotal evidence? Will those be from nurses or patients?”

  “Patients, I believe,” Skip told her. “There's clarification farther back in the packet. You’ll have to have them sign releases permitting us to use information from their medical records, even though we’ll change the names to protect their identities.”

  “All right.” She could think of numerous instances when Hope Haven nurses had gone above and beyond the call of duty. Why, just among her three good friends, she could start a list. Last year, Elena had successfully lobbied the Make-A-Wish Foundation to grant a special wish for one of her pediatrics patients. Candace had befriended a young mother-to-be whose husband was away for much of her pregnancy. And James had helped a young wrestler realize how he was endangering his health and his life, as well as the retired football player who’d participated in the Get Fit Illinois program.

  She probably could come up with dozens of such stories, she realized. The trick was going to be to determine which ones would make the most impact and approach the former patients about signing releases.

  “Anabelle?”

  “Oh, sorry.” She smiled at Skip. “My brain's already working on this.” She riffled the papers before her.

  “Great.” Skip indicated the folder again. “There's also a schedule of meetings. I thought it would be good to meet occasionally to review information, make sure everyone's getting things done on time, and stories aren't being duplicated.”

  “Who else is on the committee?”

  “Penny Risser, Dr. Weller, and Dr. Hamilton.” Skip reeled off the names as if he were reading from a list. “Em Palmer, Dr. Clark, Nellie Harvey, Zane McGarry, Pastor Tom, Will West.”

  Anabelle nodded. “A diverse group. That makes sense.” Em Palmer and Will West were board members. The three doctors represented different disciplines and would have unique input. Penny Risser was the CEO's executive assistant, and she probably knew everything that went on in the hospital. Zane McGarry, the CFO, would be able to handle the financial picture, her friend Nellie was the head of the diet and nutrition program, and Pastor Tom would be an excellent resource for the human-interest sections of the portfolio. “An excellent committee,” she added.

  “Thanks.” Skip beamed. “I haven't been here long enough to get to know everyone, so Zane and Penny helped me form the group. Judging from your reaction, we should be able to put together an outstanding picture of Hope Haven's suitability for the best small hospital award.”

  Chapter Four

  WHAT'S THE MATTER, CANDACE?”

  Candace glanced up from her lunch on Thursdayto find all three of her companions staring at her.

  “You’ve been unusually quiet,” Elena said. “Are you all right?”

  Candace sighed. “Yes. Sort of. I found out this week that my mother's thinking of moving out when Heath and I get married. She talked to him before she mentioned it to me.”

  “Uh-oh,” James said.

  “Exactly. When I asked her about it, she said she thinks we need privacy to establish our marriage.” Her dismissive tone told her friends what she thought of that statement.

  Silence.

  “She may have a point,” Anabelle said slowly.

  “Why would you say that?” Candace tried to push aside her feelings of betrayal. This is so silly, she thought.

  Anabelle looked thoughtful and oddly hesitant. “Well, if it were me—and I'm roughly your mother's age—I’m not sure I would want to live with newlyweds.”

  “But we don't need privacy,” Candace protested. “At least, not any more than we can expect with two children in the house.”

  “I’m not thinking of what you need,” Anabelle said, and although there was no bite in her tone, Candace heard a bit of reproof. “Being alone with a couple can make a person feel like a third wheel. I’m not sure it's fair to expect your mother to want to hang around you two day in and day out. It may highlight her own aloneness, if that makes any sense.”

  Elena cleared her throat. “Has your mother ever dated or been in a relationship since her marriage ended?” Candace's friends all knew that her parents had divorced long ago, and that her father, who lived in California, evinced little interest in establishing communication.

  “No.” Candace bit her lip. “And she's never seemed to mind it. Although now I’m not so sure.”

  “Why do you say that?” Elena probed.

  “Heath suggested that she might like to date.” She waited, hoping her friends would see how far-fetched that was.

  “She might,” James agreed. “She's a very lovely woman, and she's been alone a long time.”

  It was so close to what Heath had said that Candace couldn't even respond. Much as she hated to admit it, her life had changed dramatically in the past year. It wasn't fair to want her mother to—to what? It wasn't about the children, although she did appreciate the help and support. And it certainly wasn't about her father. So why did the thought of her mother leading her own life bother Candace so much? Was she just being a dog in the manger, fearing that if her mother met someone, she wouldn't be there when Candace needed her?

  “You know,” Elena said, “there's a big difference between wa
nting your own place and wanting to find a new man.” Clearly, she saw how unsettled the idea of her mother dating made Candace feel.

  There was another silence. Candace saw an opportunity to steer the conversation away from herself. “How does your landscaping look now that summer's here, James?”

  He smiled, and they all seemed to relax as the conversation switched to a less sensitive topic. “Honestly, it looks kind of colorless outside, even though it's nicely landscaped with shrubs and trees,” James said. “We had some really beautiful perennials at the old house, and now I have to start all over. I’m putting in some annuals this year until I decide what I want to do.”

  “Look at it this way. You have the opportunity now to start all over with the plants you loved and new ones you want to try.” Elena was ever the optimist.

  “I would miss my flowers if I had to start over.” Anabelle's expression was dreamy. “Cam has the most beautiful perennial beds in town.”

  “Fern misses flowers coming up to mark the changing seasons,” James said. “She loved the irises that grew along the back of our old lot. I’m hoping that I can put some in this fall.”

  “Don't go buy any.” Anabelle shook a finger at him with a smile. “Cam has tons, and if they aren't divided every few years, they get so clumped up they stop blooming. He divides some every fall. I’ll ask him to save you some. In fact, let me know what you’re looking for. Chances are we have some and can spare it.”

  “That would be great,” James told her. “Thanks.”

  Anabelle turned to Elena, and Candace was thankful when she introduced another topic. “How are the plans for Cesar's party coming along?”

  “Fine.” A shadow crossed Elena's face. “Although he seems less than delighted about turning fifty. I hope he isn't upset by the party.”

  “He’ll be all right,” James said easily. “Once he sees all the people who came out to help him celebrate, he’ll cheer up, even if he isn't thrilled at first.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” But Elena didn't sound convinced. And was it just her imagination, or did Candace see a shadow of worry cross her friend's face?

  “Oh, I have some news,” Anabelle said. “The new CIO asked me to serve on the committee to prepare the information for that award Hope Haven was nominated for.”

  “That's great,” Elena said. “At least, I think it is. Will it be a tremendous amount of work?”

  “There is going to be a lot of information to gather,” Anabelle admitted. “But it looks like an interesting project.”

  “It would be great if we won.”

  “It would validate everything we’ve said over the past couple of years about what a vital role Hope Haven plays in the community,” James said.

  “I wonder if there's a cash award.” Elena's eyes lit up.

  James laughed. “Mercenary.”

  “Not for us personally,” Elena protested, as Anabelle and Candace grinned. “Every little bit will help this place, you know.”

  “That it will,” Anabelle agreed.

  “I thought that's why the new CIO was hired.” James began replacing his used containers in his lunch box.

  “It was,” Candace said. “Heath says he's a great guy who really knows his stuff.”

  “That's what we need,” Elena said. “Someone who can help get Hope Haven out of this money crunch we seem to be stuck in.”

  The first meeting of the award nomination dossier committee took place on Friday afternoon. Anabelle reported to the firstfloor conference room promptly at three. Many of the other new members were there and several more came through the door moments later.

  “Welcome, everyone.” Skip Mullen beamed as he moved around the table distributing large packets of information. “Thanks for coming, and thanks for agreeing to serve on this committee.”

  “What's this?” Dr. Hamilton asked, eyeing the thick stack of paper that was plunked down in front of him.

  Skip grinned. “I thought it might be helpful if we look over the entire document together before anyone starts gathering information or writing. It will help us set the tone for what we want to present.”

  “What do you mean?” Em Palmer, a member of the board of directors, frowned down at her packet. “Don't we want to present anything and everything that will make Hope Haven look like the greatest small hospital in the country?”

  “Yes.” Skip's tone was more patient than Anabelle thought she might have been. Em Palmer seemed to be an extremely negative person. If everyone else thought it was a beautiful day, Em was certain it was going to storm. “But developing each section with a certain theme in mind will make the entire presentation fit together.”

  “Do you have a theme in mind?” Dr. Weller asked.

  Skip shook his head. “Not yet. First, let's talk about what makes Hope Haven special. What is the most important thing that we want to communicate to the awards committee?”

  “We provide outstanding care,” Dr. Clark said.

  “Our doctors work hard to stay on top of new developments in their respective fields,” Dr. Hamilton added.

  “Local people like having a good hospital nearby.” Nellie Harvey spoke up. “Maybe we should emphasize our ability to give people outstanding medical care from highly trained professionals in their own community rather than having to send them to Peoria or some other larger hospital.” Everyone nodded.

  “You managed to fit everything but the kitchen sink in there,” Will West, the other board member serving on the committee, remarked.

  Anabelle resisted the urge to raise her hand like a good little pupil. Amused at herself, she said, “It's true all those things are important, but we also have something else, something that isn't a necessary component of medical excellence like cutting-edge technology, local access, or excellent care. Let's face it, every hospital nominated for this award probably has all those things already.”

  “So what do we have that's unique?” Penny Risser asked.

  “The family feel,” Anabelle said. “Many, many members of this staff go far above and beyond their job descriptions to help their patients, to make them comfortable or to comfort them, to make special things happen, to help them understand and deal with scary diagnoses. Our staff has been complimented more than once on how we seem to care as much as a real family member would. I think that could be our ‘something special’ around which we could design this dossier.”

  “I like it.” Enthusiasm rang in Skip's voice.

  “So do I,” Dr. Weller said.

  Dr. Hamilton nodded. “Anabelle, you’ve hit the nail squarely on the head, to abuse a much overused phrase.” He smiled. “I can think of half a dozen instances in which a staffer took a patient under their wing or did something that would benefit a patient.”

  “Name some,” Em Palmer challenged. “I can't think of a single one. Of course, patient privacy doesn't allow me to get involved like most of you, but I think I’d have heard of at least one or two.”

  “You probably have.” Penny sounded distinctly disgruntled by Em's pessimism. “And they aren't necessarily privileged information. For instance, the Make-A-Wish concert held last year was initiated by one of our staff members. So was the Hope Haven Hounds program.”

  “It was?” Dr. Weller sounded surprised. “I didn't know that.” Anabelle sometimes forgot that the young ER doctor was relatively new in town.

  Penny smiled, gesturing at Pastor Tom, who had been sitting quietly while others spoke. “Pastor Tom read an article about therapy dogs and proposed the program.”

  “Someone would have thought of it sooner or later,” he said with a smile. “I really can't take much credit for it.”

  “This is great.” Skip sounded enthused. “Those are perfect examples, and I’m certain there are other small, personal stories that would illustrate the theme.”

  “There are,” Anabelle assured him. “A great number of the nursing staff exceeds mere duty in their care for patients. We may not be able to use names, but we
could change them and still share the circumstances of the incidents.”

  “It's perfect,” Skip said. “Unless someone has a strong objection, I think it should be the theme each of us keeps in mind when we are working on our individual sections.” He turned to a large easel with blank paper on it, picked up a marker, and wrote: The “Family Feel”: going above and beyond one's job description to help, support, or encourage a patient.

  Suddenly, the muted buzz of a cell phone on vibrate echoed through the conference room. Penny Risser jumped as if she’d been stung by a bee. Her face turned crimson, and she reached into her pocket and withdrew her phone. Anabelle saw her frown as she checked the number on the display screen.

  “Excuse me,” Penny said. “I have to take this call.”

  Skip nodded and continued his presentation as Penny hurried from the room, already putting the phone to her ear. Through the glass window in the door that closed behind her, Anabelle could see her standing in the hall; and as Penny began to speak, Anabelle was glad she wasn't the person on the receiving end of Penny's obvious displeasure. The woman could be quite intimidating.

  “Anabelle,” Skip said, and she hastily glanced back at the papers before her, “your section dealing with the nursing staff will be one of the primary areas that can illustrate this. Although as I think about it, I imagine every single department in this hospital has dealt with some special situation.”

  “I’m doing the volunteer section,” Em Palmer said. “How am I supposed to come up with examples?”

  Will cleared his throat. “Probably the first thing you should do is talk to them.” If he wasn't such a nice guy, Anabelle would have suspected he was being sarcastic, but she couldn't detect a single note of insincerity in his voice.

  Em nodded. “Well, naturally I’ll be doing that. But don't we want numbers?”

  “Check with Penny after the meeting,” Skip said. “If she doesn't have statistics, I’m sure she knows who does.” He rubbed his hands together. “This project has to be completed and in the committee's hands by mid-July. I would like everyone to have his or her preliminary information gathered by the end of this month. That's a little over two weeks away. Submit it to Penny. She has agreed to complete the dossier using all of the information we gather. Then we’ll meet again before the end of June to proofread and review her work before we send it in. Any questions?”