Chapter 1
“Daniel Waltham.”
Daniel looked up from his phone, where he'd been typing a message to his secretary. It was about time they called him back; it was already ten minutes past his appointment time, and he had work to do today. He wouldn't even be at the doctor's office if his secretary hadn't called his mother to tell her his symptoms had been getting worse.
Daniel followed the nurse through the hallway and tried not to grind his teeth at the slow pace of all the usual diagnostic checks. He was still six feet and one-quarter inch tall, still weighed one hundred and eighty-five pounds, and his blood pressure couldn't be that bad or the nurse would say something, right?
When the doctor finally entered, though, already shaking his head, Daniel’s heart fell.
“I'd hoped not to see you back for a while.”
Daniel smiled wryly. “Same. But you know mothers.”
Dr. Myers knew Daniel’s mother specifically—he'd been their family doctor for years, and even after Daniel’s company had taken off and made him more money than he'd ever dreamed possible, he'd felt most comfortable coming back here to see Dr. Myers. The doctor who'd known you since you were five would tell you things straight, no matter how much money you had.
Dr. Myers sighed and dropped his folder on the counter, perching on the stool across from Daniel. “You haven't been taking care of yourself like I told you to.”
“I'm fine.” Daniel held up his arms and pretended to flex. “I work out five days a week.”
“And how much sleep are you getting?”
Daniel shrugged.
“Did you even try any of the diet changes I recommended last time?”
Daniel ran a hand through his hair, which was getting a little long. He'd have to tell Eleanor to schedule a trim for him. It was one of those things he just hadn't had time for...
Sort of like bothering with Dr. Myers’ diet recommendations. “I've been preoccupied with work.”
Dr. Myers rolled his eyes. “Your mother tells me you have a personal chef. If you'd cared at all, it would have been easy.”
Daniel looked up at the clock on the wall and stood. “I'll lower the sodium. Got it.”
Dr. Myers stood as well, and gently but firmly placed a hand on Daniel’s shoulder, guiding him to sit back down on the examination table. “That won’t be sufficient by itself. You’ve developed conditions you shouldn't have to worry about for another twenty years of hard work at least. Hypertension, among other things.” He adjusted his glasses and looked stern. “You have two choices right now. You either take care of your body, or deal with the consequences.” Before Daniel could laugh off the cliché line, he added, “I don't want to see you in the hospital when it's still preventable.”
Daniel slumped. “It's that serious?”
“Well, the hospital would be the less serious of the probable outcomes. So yes.”
The dizziness and fatigue had been annoying, and sometimes his heart would race, but it was usually when he had to put on his best CEO face for a press conference or consult with a client—he’d never really liked public speaking or small talk, but they came with the job. And sure, the heart racing had lasted longer than usual lately, but it hadn't seemed like enough to really worry about. “All right. What do I do?”
Dr. Myers lowered himself to his stool again and met Daniel’s gaze unflinchingly. “You have to take a break. You've been driving yourself too hard for too long, and it's killing you. I have pills and diet recommendations, but they would just be a Band-Aid for the real problem.” He picked up his notes again, scanned them, then looked at Daniel over the top. “Take a vacation.”
Daniel considered. He could fly to Japan, maybe spend a day or two doing touristy things and then meet up with Mr. Yamamoto, one of his potential investors with whom he’d been discussing collaboration for a new project.
Dr. Myers interrupted his thoughts. “A real vacation. And a long one. I'm prescribing you a month of rest. We can check back in after that.”
“A month?” That was ridiculous. Daniel hadn’t taken more than an afternoon off in... Okay, so he was probably due for a break. But there was no way he could just drop everything for a month. He'd worked too hard to get his company where it was, and there was no such thing as coasting in the tech industry. If you weren't innovating and expanding, you were slipping.
Not to mention how it would look. Daniel had built an image, a business persona of someone dedicated and hands-on. It was a big part of why his investors trusted him. Everyone knew Daniel was totally committed to Waltham Tech.
“A month,” Dr. Myers echoed in a tone that brooked no argument. “Take the month, and we’ll check on things at that point.”
DANIEL STRODE INTO his office and rapped a knuckle on Eleanor’s desk as he passed. Without a word, she followed him.
She stopped before his desk. Her thick, auburn hair was pulled into a ponytail as always, and she wore a white button-up shirt with pale pink pin-striping and black slacks. The look was more modern than the “classic” secretary pencil-skirt, but he liked that. He also liked that since she was nearly his mother’s age, he didn’t have to worry about any gossip for having a female secretary.
“Mr. Jeffries called and rescheduled for Monday. You have two folders to look over from R&D, and HR would like you to review the new draft of the harassment policy before they send it out.”
Daniel nodded, waiting while she finished the update on everything that had happened in the three hours he'd been gone. It was always like this—always something needing his signature, his attention, his time. He'd built this company from the living room of his college apartment, and now it was worth billions and had more employees and moving pieces than he'd ever thought he'd be responsible for.
When she finished, he turned away from the window to face her again. “I’ll need you to clear my schedule.”
One of her thick eyebrows rose, her only signal of curiosity. She was a wonderful secretary, and always professional; she wouldn’t ask unless he offered.
Hopefully she wouldn't walk out on him over what he was about to tell her.
“The next month.” He smiled wryly. “Doctor's orders.”
He'd made up his mind on the drive back to the office. He had a house in the Ozarks, though he’d only been there once or twice. It was more a meeting place than a home—the exclusive Mountain Cove community catered to the ultra-wealthy, which meant it appealed to many of the types of men Daniel needed to impress for business reasons. He’d bought the house for those occasions when he needed to show off his wealth and do some schmoozing, and for the potential of networking with other residents, but he'd only gone there a couple of times.
The local town was small, though, and the house was on a lake surrounded by trees. If any place could satisfy Dr. Myers and Daniel’s mother that he was resting, Eureka Springs ought to do it.
Eleanor pulled her phone out and began typing notes immediately. “Will you need travel arrangements?”
“Yes, to the Kingfisher house.” Daniel pictured Beaver Lake spread out beyond the pool deck of his house. This might not be so bad.