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“The board has requested we implement a new safety protocol.” The sales vendor passed small key fobs around. “These connect directly to emergency dispatch. Three clicks,” he demonstrated, “and help is on the way. They work off satellite, so even up on North Point where cell service is spotty at best, you’ll have coverage.”

Kelsey turned the device over in her hands. Marveling a little at the small size, no bigger than a key. She’d done hundreds of home visits in her time doing rural primary care and had few issues. Maybe an overzealous dog or two, but still—sometimes walking into a stranger’s house alone… You just never knew what or who was going to be there.

“Questions?” William looked around the room.

“Do we have to wear them all the time?” The new nurse asked.

“During home visits, yes. Non-negotiable.” William’s usually easy-going expression was stern. “This isn’t just about you. As your employer, we have a responsibility to do what we can to keep you safe. A couple of us have been testing them, and I just keep mine on my keychain all the time. Having to squeeze the alarm three times really eliminates any accidental activation.”

The meeting wrapped up with scheduling updates and case reviews. Kelsey hung back as others filed out, fiddling with her new fob.

“William? Got a minute?”

He looked up from gathering his papers, smiling kindly at her. “For you, always. What’s up?”

“It’s about Truman Costigan’s case.” She perched on the edge of the conference table. “I wanted to talk about conflict of interest—I’m friendly with him and his family outside of work.”

“You’re worried about professional boundaries?” William smiled, pushing his reading glasses up. “Kelsey, this is Widow’s Point. We’ve got what, the two of us for the whole island? It’s taken a while for the community to get used to a nurse practitioner as their primary care provider, but they like and trust you. Some overlap between family and personal connections is inevitable. I wouldn’t worry about dating his grandson.”

“Not sure I would call it dating… And how did you…”

“Like I said, Kelsey, this is Widow’s Point. News travels fast. My wife was having breakfast this morning at Annie’s. Apparently it was obvious.”

Obvious? Kelsey let out a breath of air.

“Has it affected your treatment of Truman?”

“No! Of course not.”

“Has Truman or his family expressed any concerns?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then I’d say we’re good.” William gathered his things. “I’ll take a look at his chart today, but as with everyone else, Kelsey, your clinical assessments and decision-making have been spot-on. I’m grateful you’re here. Just keep documenting everything clearly, and if you ever feel the relationship is impacting your treatment decisions, call me and we’ll decide together. Deal?”

“Deal.” She stood, relief loosening her shoulders. “Thanks, William.”

“Don’t thank me yet—you’re on for the clinic office visits this morning and Mrs. Henderson at nine, and she’s convinced her new hip is talking to her.”

Kelsey groaned, but she was smiling as she headed to her office.

Mac balanced the takeout bags from Napolitano’s as he knocked on Kelsey’s door, taking in the small pot of lavender by the steps. The whole drive home, his phone had pinged with texts from well-meaning townspeople offering party planning advice. He’d never cared about tablecloth colors or flower arrangements before, and he sure as hell didn’t now. But he’d gritted his teeth. It was for Grandad. He pulled together what he considered to be a decent party, and so far, Mrs. Anderson had approved.

Kelsey opened the door, still in her work clothes but barefoot, her dark hair falling loose around her shoulders. The sight did something to his chest—that intimate combination of professionalism and relaxation that made him want to pull her close. “My hero,” she said, taking one of the bags. “I’m starving.”

Inside, the cottage was warm and inviting, with soft lamp light and the faint scent of vanilla from the candles scattered throughout. They settled at her small kitchen table, its scratched surface covered with a bright yellow cloth.

Mac watched her twirl spaghetti around her fork and caught himself staring at the elegant line of her neck, the way her fingers curved around her wine glass.

“So,” he said, dragging his attention back to conversation, “apparently we’re getting married in September.”

Kelsey choked on her wine. “What?”

“According to Mrs. Dawson. She’s already planning the flower arrangements. Oh, and we’re having twins next spring.”

“Twins?” Kelsey laughed. The sound made his stomach flip. “The town works fast.” She took another sip of wine, and the crystal caught the light. “How was party planning?”

“Brutal. I now know more about appetizer options than any man should.” He ran a hand through his hair. “How was your day?”