The Bluebird Bet Page 17

  “Could we meet at the Bluebird? It’ll be easier for the judges to see its potential.” She could still be packed and prepared to drive away immediately if she lost, as long as she convinced her mother to be ready, too.

  Was she really prepared to concede the war before the last battle was engaged? That was unacceptable.

  “I’ll call Jackie,” Elaine said. “You line up Edna and...” They both turned to look at Robert. “Who’s the third judge?”

  “Ray Evans. Hope that’s okay.” He glanced from Dean to her and back. “And I’ll call all three, take care of this. Plus, the newspaper man wants to come out, do a story on the whole thing. Could be a nice start on the publicity we’ll need when we reopen. I’m anxious to get it settled.”

  Ray Evans was the county sheriff, a stern man who’d done a good job modernizing the sheriff’s office. He was also born and bred in Tall Pines. Finding a more impartial judge—someone who wanted what was best for the town—was probably impossible. Even if she had a hunch he might be a fisherman.

  Maybe he’d hate the suggestion of having more competition. She’d be sure to hit on that point.

  “Fine.” Dean shrugged like a man who had few cares. Elaine raised her chin and nodded, determined to appear just as confident.

  “Sounds good. Is it... Ah, it’s still okay for my mother to stay, right? Just tonight?” She hated the uncertainty in her voice.

  “Sure thing. I got the first room ready while you were working in town this morning.” Dean smiled. “Just in case.”

  Suspicious, Elaine turned to her mother and found her studying the garden. Maybe she hadn’t shown up at just the right moment. Maybe she’d had help getting there in the nick of time.

  And her arrival had made Elaine so happy she wasn’t sure how annoyed she should be.

  “We’ll head on upstairs, then.” Elaine opened the screen door but paused as Dean said, “Oh, and I bought the groceries we need for a nice dinner. Roast’s already in the slow cooker, Mrs. Stillman.”

  “Excellent news, Dean. I’ll get started on the rest.” She hurried past Dean, avoided Elaine’s suspicious frown and swept up the stairs. “There’s that beautiful wallpaper. I’ll never forget the first time I saw it. I told your father we had to have it.”

  A few important questions trembling on the tip of her tongue, Elaine followed her up the stairs. “What did he say to that?”

  “‘A week of staring at it once a year’s enough, Cath,’” her mother answered in a gruff voice.

  Elaine wouldn’t have responded well to that kind of comment, either.

  When they reached the first room, she could see that Dean had put out fresh linens before he opened the curtains to let in the afternoon sunshine. Maybe he had what it took to run the Bluebird, fishing camp or not.

  Elaine set her mother’s bag on the bed. “Want to tell me what sort of cozy arrangement you and Dean have cooked up?”

  Her mother slowly turned away from the window. She licked her lips and did a leisurely tour of the room, running her hand lightly over the furniture. “He texted me Wednesday, said his father should be arriving today or tomorrow so the decision would be coming quickly. If I wanted to stay, I was welcome, and he really thought this was the time.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I told my boss I needed a few days, texted Dean with a short grocery list—because I have every intention of wowing you with my newest skills—and packed up the car.”

  Elaine eased down on the bed. Her mother sat next to her and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “I’d have come Wednesday if I’d known you needed me, Lainey. I’m sorry. You’re so strong. I guess I don’t think of you needing my help the way I need yours.”

  Elaine sighed. “That’s more my fault than yours, Mom. I’m starting to see that now.”

  Just like she was coming to understand that having it all together could be the symptom of something really wrong. Or at least the insane insistence that everyone else think she had it all together.

  Because she didn’t.

  “And to be honest, I didn’t want to come.” Her mother sighed. “I’m ashamed. I didn’t want to confront the memories.”

  “I have such trouble understanding that,” Elaine said. “I loved it here. We were so happy.” She made nervous pleats in her scrubs. “Weren’t we?”

  “We were good at pretending, especially a week at a time.” Her mother stood up to look in the closet and came back to pull a stack of clothing out of her suitcase. “It’s hard to fight when the neighbors are so close. You remember this place differently than I do. All I really remember is biting back way too much honesty. Your father never really had that problem.”

  Elaine covered her face with both hands and tried to catch her breath. She’d been wrong all along. “Wow.”

  Her mother sat next to her. “But on the way up here I decided none of that matters. It’s in the past. You are going to make this inn fabulous, and I can look forward to some great times here. When you win, I’m going to do everything I can to help.”

  Elaine took a deep breath. “I needed to hear that. Whether we do it here or somewhere else, we’re going to make good memories.” When she’d started this, she’d had some noble notion of giving her mother a purpose, pulling her out of her rut and giving them both something to bond over.

  Now her mother had a new job, a new hobby and a new friend. And Elaine had learned that her wonderful memories were heavy on fiction. She’d been obsessed with the promise of an exciting future...

  Well, that future was as possible anywhere else as it was here. The Bluebird wasn’t magic.

  If she wanted the exciting future, she’d have to create it, no matter how this bet was decided.

  Overwhelmed again, Elaine flopped on the bed to stare up at the ceiling.

  “Seems that handsome young man is more than someone who wants to win a competition.” Her mother waited patiently for Elaine to figure out how to answer the question that wasn’t really a question.

  “We’ve gotten to know each other while we worked.” Elaine ignored her mother’s stare. The kiss should not come up. If it did, her mother wouldn’t be content until Elaine and Dean were exchanging vows. No matter how often Elaine ignored her dating advice, her mother never gave up hope.

  Catherine Stillman, true-blue romantic. This was one more place where she and her mother were so different it was hard to believe they were related.

  Her mom sighed. “Well, I guess that’s a start.” Then she tapped her lips with a finger. “Now tell me about his father. He seems...nice.” Before Elaine could launch into a lecture about focusing on what was important and forgetting men for a while, her mother winked and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m kidding. Sort of.”

  Elaine laughed, willing to lighten the mood again. Maybe all she’d ever needed to do was involve her mother in her life more, not less.

  She needed her mom sometimes. That was perfectly all right. Normal, even. Her mother loved it. Why did Elaine have such a problem showing it?

  And how had this man, who’d known her for less than a full month, seen through Elaine’s pretending that she had everything under control? How did he manage to do the one thing that would make whatever happened okay?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DEAN FLIPPED SLOWLY through the slideshow of shots his father had taken on the road. “So, the Grand Canyon, Hoover Dam and the Pacific Ocean. Not a bad haul for a little over three weeks.” He stopped on a shot of a donkey. “Please tell me you didn’t ride this donkey.”

  “Mule. That’s a mule. And I did. It was that or a helicopter ride, and you know how I am about heights.” His dad waved his hands. “Given the choice, I’ll pick sticking to the ground whenever I can.”

  Just like Elaine.

  At least he didn’t say it out loud.

  “
Some people don’t do either, Dad. Some people are content to just...look. You know, go to the observation areas and observe.” He couldn’t get over some of the shots his dad had gotten. Clearly this trip had been about more than observing. There was a lot of action and adventure in these photos.

  “Might never get back to the Grand Canyon. Had to see everything I could. A couple of times I wished that chance hadn’t come along, mainly while I was looking over the edge, but you can’t beat the view from the bottom. Once in a lifetime.” He wagged his finger. “I mean that. I’m not ever doing it again.”

  Dean laughed and clapped his father on the back. “These are some great shots to remember the trip. Was it what you thought it would be?”

  “Hard to say.” His dad ran a hand down the back of his neck. “Saw some landmarks I always dreamed of. Took a surfing lesson just because.”

  Trying to picture his dad on a surfboard took real concentration. Luckily, there was a picture of that, too. “This isn’t a late midlife crisis, is it?” The grin on his father’s face as he carried a surfboard across the sand was contagious.

  “Maybe it’s the old man getting a touch of the restless, adventurous spirit that makes you climb mountains and race into danger.” His dad shrugged. “Gotta say, after riding that mule and living to tell the tale, I think I understand what drives you. Hope it’s not permanent, though. Only so much adrenaline this old heart can take.”

  “Looks like it did you some good,” Dean said. “You haven’t stopped smiling since you got home.”

  “Oh, this trip was what I needed. Gave me a whole new outlook. But if you think these smiles come from a vacation, you’re mistaken.” His dad shut the laptop. “I can’t get over how good this place looks. You look better, too, less like a man clinging to a ledge. The doctor had something to do with that, I bet.”

  Dean narrowed his eyes. “Right. Want to tell me what kind of favor she was doing for you?”

  “You caught that, huh?” His father ran a hand over his mouth. “Just asked her to see if she could find out what was bothering you. I remember how staring out a dark window all night long can wear on a man.”

  Dean crossed his arms over his chest and considered that. He’d spent hours thinking about all the things he should have shared with his father. Here was a chance. “I have nightmares. I dream about gunfights or near misses or the last explosion. Sometimes I can’t fall asleep. Other times I wake up with my heart racing and my whole body sweating and shivering. Sometimes I lie awake regretting my decisions, like the ones that made you think you were better off handling this place and your health and whatever else you’ve managed to make it through all alone. And sometimes I’m angry, and I don’t really know why.” He closed his eyes.

  “But you should know, when the world exploded and I was sure I was going to die, all I wanted was to talk to you one more time. I wouldn’t have had the right words then just like I don’t—”

  Whatever was about to spill out of his mouth was muffled against his father’s shoulder as his dad wrapped his arms around him.

  “When she died, I couldn’t stay here,” Dean said. “Everywhere I turned, there was something that made it hurt again.”

  “And I couldn’t stand the thought of ever letting her go.” His father’s voice was quiet. “But I learned something on this trip. She’s not tied to this place. She goes with me.”

  His father stepped back. “That first sight of the ocean reminded me of the postcards she used to collect. She would have loved that part of the trip.” He smoothed a hand over his forehead. “She certainly would’ve been a much better surfer. Couldn’t be worse than me.”

  Dean rubbed the ache in his chest that used to come every single time he thought of his mother. Over the years, he’d gotten more vigilant, stopping the memories before they formed. Now he was sorry it had taken him so long to realize how much comfort there was in remembering.

  “So many nights I’ve clutched my phone in my hand, ready to call you for help—” Dean stopped to clear his throat “—and I pictured home. Thank you for holding on to it for me.”

  His dad cleared his throat and blinked hard before he said, “You use that phone next time. You make the call. No matter where you are, here or in Timbuktu. You call.”

  Dean nodded. They shook hands and just like that, everything was better. The air was clear. No matter how this turned out, he and his dad were okay.

  “Ready to do this?” His dad waved a hand vaguely. “Ready to take the Bluebird, change it up, make it yours?”

  “You bet.” He was. Really. Any doubts he might have could be handled with hard work and pushing ahead. The past few weeks had shown him that. “I didn’t know what I was looking for when I came home, but I feel better, more myself here. Painting felt like therapy.”

  “And what about the doctor? Ready to see the last of her for a while?”

  Dean’s father was studying his face intently. Dean stifled the urge to shake his head.

  “I imagine she’s not an easy person to bump along with,” his dad said. “Too driven. Got no take-it-easy in her.” His father smiled innocently. Tossing out his bait, waiting for Dean to jump on it.

  “We both had to learn about relaxation. She works harder than anybody I’ve ever met, and she’s good at everything.” Except knitting but on the second lesson, she’d whip out a sweater with one hand while she made a scarf with the other. “Is this your version of matchmaking?”

  He never would’ve expected it from his dad, the guy who’d holed up like some fishing hermit after his mother died.

  A love like that, one that had lasted all these years apart, might make Robert Collins the biggest romantic Dean knew.

  A guy like that could have some solid advice on romance.

  “If it was, I’d say I’m talented at it. Took one shot, scored a direct hit. That’s what we call accuracy in the business.” His father made finger guns and blew away imaginary smoke. “I also learned something about myself in the process. This is home and I love it, but there’s an awful lot out there in the world. I’ve got to go after it.”

  At a loss for words, Dean nodded. He couldn’t argue with that. Finally he said, “I hope this turns out the way you intended, Dad. I understand this crazy urge to see the world. I don’t get wagering the future of the Bluebird in a competition with someone like Elaine Watson. I could lose this. It wouldn’t even be a shock.”

  And it scared him, so he hadn’t spent much time considering “what if.” He didn’t want to disappoint his father. He didn’t want to lose this fragile new connection to the memories of his mother. Now that he knew how much he wanted to win, he was afraid of losing.

  “Have faith, son.” His dad squeezed his shoulder.

  Of course. His father wouldn’t let the Bluebird go to Elaine if he was convinced that Dean would stay. He could change the game if that’s the way it turned out.

  “I trust you, Dad.”

  Then he remembered that Elaine Watson would not take losing easily and wondered how much it would hurt to lose her friendship.

  “Good, but I meant have faith in yourself. Even if you lose, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Nothing but possibility. We could hit the road together. You could build your own spot somewhere quiet and do exactly what you want instead of dealing with chores and boarders. You could even get your old job back.”

  His father wouldn’t come right out and ask the big question: What would Dean do if he lost? After all this time, he had no answer.

  “And as far as faith goes, try having faith in her, too.” His father checked his watch. “It’s about time. Got all your stuff? Let’s head downstairs.”

  Dean took a deep breath and patted his laptop. “Sure thing. It’s all right here.”

  At the bottom of the staircase, he could hear conversation coming from outside. He
glanced at his father. “Sounds like the judges are here.”

  Edna and Jackie were sitting in the rocking chairs, staring hard in opposite directions. The battle lines were clearly drawn. Ray Evans was ambling through the neatly manicured yard while Elaine’s mother pointed out Elaine’s improvements to the garden.

  Mark Taylor had his camera out and was taking shots of the lake, the revitalized porch, the judges and the bluebird boxes.

  “Where’s Elaine?” Dean asked. He nodded at Mark and Jackie and then bent to kiss Edna’s cheek. When she jerked away and shoved her hand in his direction, he shook it and nodded at her narrow-eyed stare.

  “Inside. Setting the stage.” Jackie wagged his eyebrows, and Dean had a bad feeling his presentation skills were about to be seriously overshadowed.

  His suspicion was confirmed when Elaine stepped out onto the porch in her sundress, the one she’d been wearing when they were introduced.

  “If you’re prepared, we can get started.”

  The small group followed her into the front sitting room, the home of the fussy antiques. The last time he’d been in this room, all the furniture was covered, but now the old sheets were gone and the wood gleamed, as if his mother were about to step through the swinging door from the kitchen.

  And Elaine Watson had her game face on. She had posters, her own laptop and a fancy binder on display in front of a table where Edna, Jackie and Ray Evans sat. Delicate cups and saucers were arranged in a circle around his mother’s pink tea service.

  She’d come to win.

  A flood of adrenaline and old-fashioned will to win pumped through him. Dean grinned. She was going to make this a battle.

  He liked her even more for it.

  His father raised his eyebrows before settling into a chair. Elaine passed out the delicate pink cups along with vibrant pictures of the newly painted Bluebird, including a photo that Elaine had no doubt taken with the camera she’d asked to borrow.

  Her mother poured hot tea into the cups, looking every bit the perfect hostess. She’d be able to greet guests and make them feel comfortable, a trait he wasn’t sure he had.