Doctor Right. Janet Tronstad

voice in her nurse’s training, until it could silence a group of rowdy boys. It didn’t even stop the women from chattering long enough for them to really listen to her. Of course, part of that could be because they were reaching up to try and tame their windblown hair.

      “I have full-coverage insurance, so any doctor will see me.” A showy blonde, with a dandelion head of bleached hair and the plumpest purple lips Maryann had ever seen, sat down in one of the few adult chairs in the waiting room and crossed her nylon-encased legs in a theatrical gesture. Then she looked at Maryann. “It was part of my last divorce settlement. The doctor can do any test he wants on me. My ex will cover it if the insurance doesn’t, so the doctor doesn’t need to worry about the bill being paid.”

      “I just need a prescription refill,” a young waif-like woman whispered as she slipped into one of the nearby children’s chairs. She had long brown hair and a slight overbite. “Do you know if the doctor likes to walk on the beach in the moonlight? I adore the beach. Not the Alaskan beach, of course—it’s too rocky and cold—but, you know, the regular beach.”

      The wind had ruffled the young woman and she nervously tried to pull her tangled hair into place.

      “I can’t—” Maryann said, her voice rising slightly. She looked around. Eight women were in the room. None of them looked sick, especially since the cold outside had given their cheeks higher than normal color. Besides, together they were wearing enough gold jewelry to open a pawn shop. They had marched up here in full battle armor. But why had they come, now of all times—on this cold, blustery day?

      And then the realization hit her and she felt a twist in the pit of her stomach. It was her fault. She’d told her cousin last night how much his young patients would miss Alex after his contract expired at the end of the month. Her cousin remarked that if she wanted the man to stay in Treasure Creek, she needed to get him happily married to a local woman. Which led to the unfortunate remark by her that no woman with warm blood flowing through her veins would marry The Ice Man. Which led to her cousin saying that there was a match for everyone and Maryann could find someone for the doctor if she put her mind to it. After all, her cousin added, Maryann was good at managing other people’s romances—hadn’t her parents relied on her to help them find their next soul mates? And the ones after that?

      Unfortunately, she and her newly-engaged cousin, Karenna, had been eating hamburgers in Lizbet’s Diner when they’d had their conversation. Someone must have overheard. Gossip traveled fast in a small town like this, and it often got twisted. Maryann knew she shouldn’t have said anything about Alex. And worst of all, she had taken a guess at a woman who might suit him, and, even though it wasn’t one of the fancy women, the whole thing must have resulted in today’s sudden invasion.

      “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to leave,” Maryann said, as she tried to herd the women to the door. They weren’t budging. She didn’t suppose she could call 911 over something like this. “The doctor is in the exam room with a patient and—”

      “He can be my doctor any time,” a woman with bouncy, copper ringlets said, as she wiggled out of Maryann’s herd, walked over to a chair and sat down looking pleased with herself.

      The fancy women all giggled.

      Why did people seeking romance all become silly as teenagers, Maryann wondered. She raised her voice. “What I’m trying to say is that there are no appointments left for today.”

      She hoped that would do it.

      “Or tomorrow either,” she added quickly just in case. “We’re all booked.”

      She really liked this job; she didn’t want to be fired. Alex had promised to give her a good recommendation to his replacement. Well, it would be his temporary replacement. The agency had already said they could only send someone to fill in for a few months while they kept looking for a new scholarship doctor to take over the clinic for another three years. If they couldn’t find someone, they would close the clinic in six months.

      Why did it all have to be so complicated? The children here needed a doctor. And Maryann didn’t want to lose her job and return to the lower forty-eight. The obvious solution was to have Alex put down roots here in Treasure Creek. Of course, he’d have to want to stay. Her cousin was right about a wife being the answer, but—despite her earlier comments about him being The Ice Man—Maryann knew full well he could have his pick of brides. Some women would tell themselves he would thaw eventually; others might not care.

      No, he would be the one who was hard to please when it came to marriage. The nurse before her claimed Alex hadn’t dated anyone in the time she’d known him. All he cared about was that clinic he was going to build in Los Angeles.

      “I’m Delilah Carrington. I’m sure he’ll see me,” the copper ringlet woman said as she gave a grand wave with an arm wrapped in thin gold bracelets. Then she looked around and slowly frowned. “I would think a doctor’s office would be better equipped though. This place is a little old and scruffy, isn’t it?”

      She made it sound as though the patients regularly stuck their old chewing gum under the chairs bottoms, Maryann thought—which she was sure they did not, since she’d checked a time or two.

      “He’s a scholarship doctor,” another of the women said, as though that explained any shabbiness. “You know, the government pays for him to go to medical school and he has to work in a place like this for a few years to pay them back. All the poor kids do it.”

      Maryann bristled at the implication that because Alex didn’t have money, somehow that made him less of a success. He was a brilliant doctor. She’d known that after working the first day for him. Plus, he really cared about his little patients. He even treated the children from the Taiya Village, part of the Tlingit tribe, for free. If the town got another scholarship doctor, he probably wouldn’t go out to the village at all. It was extra work, and not part of the agreement the doctors signed. That was another reason she wanted Alex to stay on here. The Tlingit kids needed him as much as the kids in Treasure Creek did, and probably more.

      “The city owns this clinic,” Maryann said firmly. “The place is charming and very neatly organized. It might be a little scratched up, but we keep it very clean. Besides, Dr. Havens knows all of the latest treatments.”

      The room was quiet as the women looked around. Apparently, they’d been surprised enough at that declaration to listen.

      “What kind of treatments?” one of the women asked, looking around the office dubiously. “Those herbal things?”

      “Medical treatments,” Maryann snapped back. She saw no reason to admit that he studied the native remedies of the Tlingit people. She’d already said too much about the man last night. “They’re the kind any good, well-trained doctor uses. Some from the Mayo Clinic.”

      Then she scowled at the women, daring any of them to make more remarks about this building or the doctor who ran it. The clinic was set in one of the restored log cabins that were left over from the original gold rush prospectors who had founded this town in 1897. She’d like to see how these fancy women would have stood up a hundred years from now. Besides, people should be proud to use this place, she told herself; it had solid history.

      The town had taken ownership of the cabin decades ago, renting it out to a souvenir shop for years until someone decided they needed a children’s clinic in town. They widened the doorway and added a side ramp off the porch for wheelchairs, and the cabin became a clinic. Except for the thickly lacquered logs, the only other holdover from its tourist days was Horace, the slightly droopy moose head hanging over the door.

      “So this means our doctor is poor,” Delilah finally said in the silence, that same frown on her face. “If he had to have a scholarship, I mean. That can’t be good. Does he have any money at all?”

      “Honey, a man with looks like Dr. Havens doesn’t need money,” another of the women—Joleen something—declared with a warm chuckle. The woman was wearing a spandex jumpsuit in a leopard print and spiked black heels. A long gold chain hung around her neck, and somehow she’d managed to get her