The Bluebird Bet Read online

  If that was the case, he didn’t like Mark Taylor as much as he thought.

  When she didn’t add anything personal, he relaxed against the weathered boards of the dock. Time for conversational fishing. “Andi seems nice, too. I should remember her better from school. It’s clear Mark’s a man in love.”

  He studied the pink clouds and pretended he didn’t even care about her answer. Then she said, “That’s nice. For both of them. They must be healthy because I don’t know much about either of them, although Andi’s grandmother tells me about all her achievements.” She looked over her shoulder. “She used to be sheriff. Worked for the FBI before that. That’s impressive, right?”

  There was no tone of jealousy, nothing but respect in her voice. Why it mattered whether she’d dated the newspaper editor or secretly hoped to he wasn’t sure.

  Ready for a new subject, he said, “Edna seems like she might be someone to keep an eye on.”

  Elaine glanced at him. “Uh, yeah, understatement there. Edna’s my landlord. When I moved here, she rented me this tiny apartment like she was bestowing a most magnificent gift.” She shrugged. “And it was, I guess. Cheap. Clean. That’s all I really needed.”

  Dean frowned and sat up. “You don’t still live there? The town’s top doctor choosing cheap and clean? Where’s the status symbol? Aren’t you supposed to have a convertible with vanity plates by now?”

  She pointed at the Bluebird. “The only status symbols I need are the busiest practice in town and this spot, right here.”

  “Can you have both? What’s going to happen to the practice when you have a hotel to run?” That was more like it. If he could ask the right questions, maybe he could shake her up. The fact that he was really curious about her answer could be completely ignored.

  Her cell phone rang before she could reply. She wiggled around and managed to pull it out of her pocket then held up one finger. “Hi, Mom.” Dean thought about leaving when she glanced away as if she wasn’t quite comfortable with an audience. Then he remembered he needed to look for weak spots. He had a feeling they were there, even if they were hard to see. “A quiche? Way to slowly work your way into this.”

  The mention of food reminded him it had been a while since his last meal.

  “Not a lot. Trying to relax on my day off.”

  Dean couldn’t name many men or women who’d choose renovation as a relaxing hobby, but he had the feeling she meant it. Maybe the doctor should force herself to sit at the end of this dock for a week or so. He wasn’t convinced of its healing properties yet, but it had to be better than mowing the grass.

  “Great. Yeah, I’m back at it tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow he’d be doing a whole lot of this right here. Sitting. Breathing. Forgetting if he could.

  Unless...maybe there was something to this type of work. He’d see how the night went. Even a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep might be worth sweat equity.

  “Love you, too, Mom.” Elaine ended the call, heaved a gusty sigh and shoved the phone into her pocket.

  “Your concern for my practice is so noble—” Elaine shot him a look “—but I can manage both. I’ve accomplished bigger challenges than keeping the career I love while I work on a project that excites me. Don’t you worry.”

  “Like what? What would be harder than a demanding job and renovating a wreck?”

  She turned to face him. “Ever heard of medical school? I did it on my own and kept my mother on track, too. I built a practice and made it the best in town. I’ve spent a lot of time learning to do whatever it takes to win.”

  The look in her eyes held a serious warning. Be afraid.

  Dean held his hands up in surrender and decided to change the subject. “So, your mom called.”

  Elaine rested her chin on her knees. “Yeah, we’re planning a visit.” The setting sun cast a rosy glow, making her seem softer, less likely to spike a victory ball at him. The happiness brought on by her mother’s plan to visit lit up her face while her list of accomplishments had just made her seem fierce. He wanted to trace the small smile on her lips.

  “We’ve got plenty of room,” he said.

  “Good.” She stood up with a groan. “I hope my patients can get used to that noise. I’ll make it often tomorrow. Thanks again for your help.”

  She waited for his smile and then walked up the dock to go inside.

  Dean sat there until the pond was dark. The sound of the water washing against the shore and wind in the trees was calming.

  But now there was something missing.

  * * *

  WHEN THE SUN came up on Monday, Dean decided to try a jog on his own. The day was already heating up when he dropped into a rocking chair and wiped his forehead on his sweaty T-shirt. “And we won’t be telling the doctor that maybe jogging isn’t so bad after all.”

  Then he wondered who we was since he was all alone. He’d carefully calculated how long he needed to walk along the path around the lake to avoid Elaine. Being unable to sleep was bad enough. Spending too much time thinking about how he’d enjoyed working with her and sitting beside her was a terrible development.

  Worse, he was looking at a full day of being alone with nothing but his thoughts to occupy him. “Obviously, I need a project.”

  He rested his head on the rocker and listened to the creak of the old wood. There was still plenty to choose from. The garden needed attention. Some of his mother’s flowers were still there. Or he could go into town and find someone to come out and work on the road.

  He propped one foot up on the rail and could almost hear his mother shout “Get your foot off that, Dean Wilson Collins. That’s not a footrest.”

  Instead of the usual grief that had accompanied thoughts of his mother for so long, he smiled as he pictured her shaking her finger at him. Summer had always meant painting, a chore he hadn’t really minded because it involved feats of acrobatics along with the tedium of meeting his mother’s exacting standards.

  “So I’ll paint.” That meant another trip into Tall Pines for supplies. “Might as well get started.” He showered and skipped breakfast to hit the road. Now that he had a plan, he was anxious to move.

  Just before he hit the town limits, he could imagine his mother telling him, “Slow down. Tomorrow will come in its own time.” She’d tried to convince him not to be so worried about the future. He wished he’d understood the message sooner. He might have slowed down enough to enjoy his days with her more.

  The stupid ache in the center of his chest was back.

  “And that’s the problem with coming home.” Halfway around the world, these memories were rarer. Here, something his mother did or said came to mind every time he turned around. That ache made it easier to remember why he’d left home in the beginning.

  He parked in front of King’s Hardware and tried to tell himself dealing with the memories would get easier.

  “Maybe they’ll crowd out some of the newer memories.” There were plenty of things he wished he could forget, and if Tall Pines didn’t work, he was out of options.

  “Talking to yourself?” Edna asked from her spot on a shady bench.

  Of course she was here.

  “Morning, Edna. Hot enough for you?”

  One corner of her mouth curled up. “I’m just fine, thanks. Getting started on your projects?” she shot back.

  Her eyes were sharp as she waited for his answer, and he wondered what she knew.

  “Yes, ma’am. Seems a beautiful day to start painting.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, you paint, too? I just rented out a storefront, going to be an art gallery. Are you any good?” She wagged her finger. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about the story you owe me.”

  He stepped up onto the sidewalk. “I’m painting the building, not landscapes.”

&
nbsp; Edna squinted at him, clearly waiting for a story as his entry fee.

  “Since you’re here, and you seem to know about the projects going on at the Bluebird, I was wondering...” Before he committed, he tried to run the reasons through his head again. At her age, she could have a solid relationship with the town doctor. She might not want to get on Elaine’s bad side.

  Edna stood up smoothly. “Why, yes, of course I’ll be your judge. Happy to do it.”

  Stunned, Dean glanced up and down the street. “How did you hear about that?” Had Elaine already spoken with her somehow?

  “I have my ways. You won’t regret asking me.” She leaned forward. “That Dr. Watson, she’s pretty good, but you’ll never guess what she told me when I went in with aches in my knees.”

  Dean bent his head toward her. “Shock me.”

  “She said—” Edna checked over both shoulders “—if I’d lose weight, I might see some improvement.” Her eyes glittered dangerously, and he was sure he’d made the right choice.

  “She didn’t.” He hoped his voice conveyed disgust.

  “Well, I lost some weight, but not because she told me to do it.” She smoothed her hands over both hips. “This tracksuit was on sale and I had to have it, but they only had a medium.”

  Dean nodded. “And how are your knees?”

  She moved her hand back and forth in a so-so manner. “Now they’re good.”

  Instead of pointing out that Elaine had given her practical advice and Edna had proven her correct, Dean smiled. “Glad to hear it, Edna, and I’m grateful that you can be my judge. I really want a shot at making the Bluebird work.”

  “Guess you’re already drawing up plans and such? Do you have a budget with projected earnings for the early years?” She blinked at him like she was certain his answer was yes.

  With an inward sigh, he said, “I could use some help with that.” Taking out a loan to reopen the right way was something he’d agonized over. He’d hate every minute of applying for a loan, and his fear of failure would be keeping his nightmares company, but if his plan were chosen, he was going to make this work. He owed his father that. Even more, he knew his mother would have approved.

  The cagey spark in Edna’s eyes was his first warning. “Don’t you worry. I speak bank fluently by now. You came to the right person.”

  They both turned when Andi Jackson hailed Edna from the end of the block. “Gotta go, Dean. Meet me at the Country Kitchen for lunch on Friday. We’ll make a plan.” Before he could agree or disagree, she was bustling down the street, thanks to her fully functional knees.

  Win or lose, now he was committed. He had a notion Edna would be a stern taskmaster.

  Maybe that was exactly what he needed to go up against Elaine Watson, best doctor in town.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “WELL, DR. WATSON, I can’t say I blame you. You’ve been putting in long hours here in addition to your practice. You look...worn out.” Dr. Ronald Bell, managing partner of the Clinton County Emergency Care Center, took his glasses off and rubbed his eyelids. “I’ve got two new doctors over in Lawrence who are prepared to join the rotation, so I can easily cut you to one shift a week.” He held out his hand. “Thanks for your commitment.”

  “I’m happy the timing works out so well. I love the work, but I’m ready for a change.” She watched him consider that as she shook his hand. “I’ll keep my Thursday evening shift. That should help.”

  She vowed to not spend any time thinking about being described as worn out. She’d been working hard, but she always worked hard. Elaine smoothed a loose curl behind her ear and told herself to take it as a positive sign that she was doing the right thing.

  When doctors seemed worn out, their patients should wonder about the care they received. She would. “More free time will be nice.”

  “Well, now that you mention it...” He leaned back in his chair, and Elaine studied his appearance. Crisp white coat. Conservative haircut. Wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that suggested he smiled a lot. He was a successful doctor. Elaine’s mother would call him a prospect.

  Why hadn’t she ever noticed that before?

  He tapped one well-manicured finger on the polished surface of his desk. Her desk looked like the leaning tower of paperwork had collapsed on top.

  “Let’s go to dinner sometime, Elaine. Are you free this weekend? I hope you don’t consider a dinner date a conflict of interest.”

  The precise yank he gave each cuff, coupled with the fussy, slightly condescending tone, reminded her of someone else. She tapped her lips and tried to place it for a long second. Then he cleared his throat and it was obvious that dinner with Dr. Bell would have way too many reminders of her father.

  Elaine stared at her folded hands and considered the invitation. Trying to picture him keeping her company on the porch of the renovated Bluebird stretched her imagination too far. On the other hand, she could easily see him at home in the expensive condos on the Lawrence side of the lake.

  Rocking chairs were probably forbidden there.

  Two doctors. On a date. What were the chances they’d make it through dessert without an emergency of some sort? And what would they talk about? More work? If that’s what she wanted, she should stick with shifts at the emergency clinic. At least there she was actually helping people.

  “No, Dr. Bell, but thank you for the invitation.” She knew she should have softened her answer when he jerked upright in his chair.

  Elaine stood to go. Before she could say goodbye, he’d turned his chair away to answer the ringing phone, and Elaine was relieved to have an escape. She went to the small break room to grab her purse out of her locker. It was almost seven, and the sunrise had been beautiful, but after a day in her own practice and an after-hours shift here, she was ready to see a lot less sun. A long nap would be in order.

  After she checked in at the clinic. Wendy always scheduled around her extra shifts, but her patients sometimes had emergencies the office staff couldn’t handle.

  Then she had to stop at the grocery store because Robert’s cereal had been fine while it lasted, but real food was better.

  The thought of doing all that made her want to curl up on the cot and take a prenap to gather her strength, but she kept going.

  After both lightning-quick stops, she made the short drive out to the Bluebird with her groceries in the passenger seat. When the boxes of cereal nearly fell onto the floor mats, Elaine decided the road needed to be fixed as soon as possible...if they ever wanted visitors.

  Surely that was something Dean could agree with.

  She parked in the shade of the big tree and rested her head against the seat...

  And saw a crazy man stretched over the edge of the roof. The steep, old, who-knows-what-shape-it’s-in roof of a two-story farmhouse.

  “I have two options here. One, go inside, go to bed and hope he comes to his senses before he breaks his neck. Two, freak all the way out. Right now.” She was tempted to try the first choice, just to see if it would work. He was a grown man. He made his own decisions. If they were terrible ones that could lead to death by stupidity, then she should accept them and go on.

  But she’d be responsible if anything happened.

  She grabbed the grocery bag, quietly got out of the car and walked over to stand below him. When a light shower of paint flecks fell around her, she took two steps back, shaded her eyes with one hand and asked calmly, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  At first, she thought he hadn’t heard her. He kept scraping. Old paint floated down. Then he reached as far as his arms would go and eased back. “What’s it look like? I’m getting ready to paint.”

  He’d already made steady progress. This side of the house was scraped. She could see new wood up by the eaves as if he’d made a repair, too. “You were lying a
bout your DIY skills, weren’t you?”

  He wiped his forehead using his sleeve. “I don’t think I ever said I didn’t have any. I just don’t enjoy it.” He shrugged, and Elaine had to bite her lip to keep from screaming “Get down. Get down right now.”

  “I guess painting’s not quite a chore to me,” he said, and as easily as if he were skipping down the steps, he swung around and climbed down the ladder. When both feet were firmly on the ground, Elaine took two deep, slow breaths.

  “Were you scared, Doc?” Dean studied the roof. “Don’t do heights?”

  “Why? Were you hoping to impress me?”

  Dean scratched his chin and then swiped flaky paint off his shirt. “That depends. Are you impressed?”

  His wide grin matched the bright sunshine, and instead of clinging to the edge of exhaustion, Elaine was energized. Eager to spar a little.

  She shrugged a shoulder. “Not really, but your dad told me it was your go-to move, daring feats. Ever since you were a kid and you broke your arm, trying to impress a girl.”

  Dean propped his hands on his hips and studied the blue sky. “I think that was my second broken bone. As I recall, it didn’t work very well. Maybe now I have better ways to impress girls, and I hang off roofs because I enjoy it.” He wagged his head from side to side. “Unless you were impressed, because then I did it just for you.”

  When her lips twitched at what appeared to be genuine flirting, Elaine said, “Just...keep your feet on the ground, okay? I don’t want to explain to your father why you’re in pieces when he returns.”

  Elaine had helped countless patients through bruises, dislocations and broken bones calmly, rationally. Her pounding heart suggested she might not be as detached with Dean.

  Because it had to be anxiety or fear making her heart race, and not irresponsible flirting.

  Irritated with herself and with him, she moved around him.

  “Hey, wait, there’s plenty of painting to do. I’ll climb the ladder. You start at the bottom. We’ll meet in the middle.” He waved a clean paintbrush at her.