The Bluebird Bet. Cheryl Harper

her way to the Bluebird, she decided to take advantage of the rare combination of a beautiful day and free time, so she drove around the town square. Elaine was happy to see the tourists. Tall Pines was her new home, and almost everyone here depended on these visitors. Spring could be hit and miss, but now that the trees were blooming and temperatures were inching back up, shoppers wandered down the streets, bags in hand.

      As a child, she’d loved every single one of these shops.

      She stopped at a crosswalk and watched a boy who kept a serious stare locked on her car as he walked by, one hand grasped by his mother.

      A few minutes later, as she headed down the rutted road toward the Bluebird, Elaine wondered whether reopening the inn could help draw even more tourists to her adopted hometown.

      She parked next to a dilapidated Jeep that had to belong to Dean Collins. It matched his wardrobe perfectly.

      She grabbed her bag and thought about honking the horn, just to let him know she was back and ready to get started. The kitchen was appalling, every room required work and the whole farmhouse needed a coat of paint, but the potential was all there.

      Elaine was hit by an unexpected wave of excitement. The renovation would be expensive and a lot of hard work, but the reward, a home that connected her to some of the happiest times in her life, was worth it. She couldn’t remember wanting anything as much as she wanted this.

      In only one day, she’d pinned her hopes on a long shot.

       Okay, Elaine, too emotional. Take a deep breath.

      She did. Then she got out of the car like a totally rational person and almost made it to the steps when she could feel someone watching her. Dean was near the dock again. Deciding that she should begin as she meant to go on, she marched down to meet him.

      “I’m back.” What a terrible opening line, Dr. Obvious. “Which room should I take?”

      He waved his filleting knife, and they both watched a bit of...fillet plop into the water. Dean studied her face, waiting for a reaction. She stepped closer. “Hmm, you’d never make it as a surgeon.”

      Then she raised her eyebrows at him. She was a doctor. A little bit of gore had no effect on her.

      “Take any guest room you want. They’re all the same. Dusty. Stuck in the past.”

      She nodded. “Okay. Thank goodness that’s easy enough to change.” Pleased with that parting line, she spun on one heel and bit back a curse as she nearly toppled right off the dock. Determined not to look at him, she pretended she was absorbed by the beauty of the inn. And she was, even if it was hard to see.

      For the first time in a while, taking a break from the emergency clinic seemed like a good plan. She could weed the garden, try to rescue Martha Collins’s roses.

      Before she went inside, she paused to look at the bluebird boxes on the hill. She couldn’t see any birds, but she remembered how much she’d loved to wait for them. Before the trips to the inn, she’d never seen a bluebird, so every single sighting had added to the magic of Spring Lake. Her parents got along here. Her mother smiled, and her father laughed.

      Even then she’d been more scientist than fairy-tale princess, but the bluebirds seemed to promise happy endings. The nesting boxes had faded like the rest of the place. She should research how to fix them up. The Bluebird Bed-and-Breakfast needed bluebirds.