Introduction

In this humorous and heartfelt novel, two out-of-town strangers cross paths in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Mark is in Manistique because his estranged aunt has died. As he tours her house for the first time, the doorbell rings...Dr. Emily Davis never makes it to her destination. Stranded for the night in Manistique, Emily is directed to a nearby bed-and-breakfast. Without thinking it through, Mark decides to play host for one night, telling Emily that he's merely stepping in temporarily while his aunt is away...Will these two strangers remain in town long enough to discover the connection between them?

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Excerpt

Mark flinched at the ring of the doorbell. He felt more like a burglar than the sole beneficiary of his aunt’s estate. Whoever was at the door, he thought, was there to offer condolences. Or, worse yet, didn’t even know Vivian had died. Not interested in handling either case, he remained in the basement.

Another ring. Two knocks. He scratched his chin and reconsidered. Perhaps this person—a neighbor or a friend—could explain why Vivian, who lived most of her life in war zones as an international aid doctor, had settled way up here in Manistique. Three more knocks. Slow and hard. Each thud breaking down his reluctance.

By the time Mark had climbed the basement stairs, trekked through the house, and opened the door, a dark-haired woman had reached the bottom of the porch steps.

“Hello,” Mark said warily. From behind she seemed too young to be one of Vivian’s friends.

She finished the last step before turning around. A white bandage covered one of her eyes, distracting him from any swift assessment. The variegated blue sweater draped over her fell flat, far past her waist to her thin gray leggings. Nothing stirred in him, nothing except the downward contour of her lips, which made him suspicious, if not faintly afraid of her.

“I almost gave up on you,” she said.

“Looks like you actually did,” he replied. Her chestnut-brown hair, shiny with long curls and lightly streaked with copper highlights, landed on her shoulders. Fair-skinned with full, pink cheeks, she was in her early twenties, he figured. “You’re not selling something, are you?”

“Huh?” Her head listed slightly to one side. “No. I was wondering if you had room, just for one night.”

“Room for what?”

The girl smiled, a bit gravely, and then said, “To stay the night—what else?”

Mark wondered if this was some sort of quaint custom in the Upper Peninsula. Open your house to any stranger who needs a place. “Do you think this is some kind of hotel?” He crossed his arms.

The girl’s cheeks burst with crimson. “Ummm . . ." She scanned the neighborhood before turning back. “Sorry, someone told me this was a bed and breakfast.” She pointed to the two posts on the parkstrip. “And I thought—”

Mark swallowed his laugh and gasped. He ran past the girl, past the bushes lining the sidewalk, and stopped at the front of the property where two short 4x4 posts stood.

He pushed on the posts. They didn’t budge. They were planted too firmly into the ground to be part of a real estate sign, as he had originally suspected. It struck him that the board leaning against the side of the garage, Manistique Victorian, would fit right there. And then there were the typed cards with the Wi-Fi name and password. Living quarters in the basement. Vivian had been running a bed and breakfast. No, no, she couldn’t possibly—

“Is everything all right?” the girl called out.

It took him a couple more seconds to grasp this revelation and to fully compose himself. He nodded and waved back affably. “Everything is just fine,” he answered, sauntering back toward her. “It’s all good. Yep.”

“Why did you . . .”

“Oh that? That was my John Cleese impression. Ever see that British show, Fawlty Towers?” His voice had risen higher.

She shook her head, leaning back slightly away from him. “No, I don’t think so. But I’m sure it was a very good impression.”

“You should see my silly walk.”

“Maybe later.” Her mouth flattened. “Is this a bed and breakfast or not?”

“Indeed it is.” He pressed his lips together, tamping a chuckle. “Yes it is.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So . . ."

“Yes, the Manistique Victorian.”

She held out her palm. “So is there a room available?”

Mark shook his head, and unable to truthfully explain the absurd circumstances to a stranger—that he’d had no idea his dead aunt was running a bed and breakfast—he gave the simplest answer. “No, sorry, it’s just we’re not open for the season yet.” He pointed back toward the posts. “That’s what I was checking out down there. I thought the sign was up—you know, a prank by one of the neighborhood kids or something.”

She sighed. “I see.”

“I’m very sorry. There are hotels off the highway,” Mark said confidently, only because he’d seen them on his way into town.

She frowned, shaking her head. “There’s nothing available.”

“Really?”

“One hotel is closed for renovations and the other is apparently taken up by a large group.”

“Right!” Mark remembered. “A bunch of old folks touring the Indian casinos in the UP.”

“Is that what they’re doing?”

Mark nodded. “But there’s hope. Maybe one of them will croak and a room will open up.”

The girl stifled her laugh with a cough. “That’s an awful thing to say.”

He grinned, shrugged. “Only kidding, of course.”

“Of course.” She grinned back.

Mark pointed to his eye. “So what happened?”

“Nothing, really. A shard of glass got in my eye, made a slight cut on the sclera. But it’s fine.”

“‘Sclera’? You a doctor or something?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

“You are?”

She nodded. “You seem surprised.”

“No, no, it’s just—” She did look awfully young to be a doctor. But being in his mid-thirties, he realized it was him getting older not them looking younger.

“Actually, I just finished medical school. I start residency in July and then my plan . . ." Her voice thinned and her eyes wandered toward the street. “I really need to find a place.” She pointed down Lake Street. “If I go down this street and turn right will I reach the car dealership?”

Mark didn’t answer her. Partly because he wasn’t sure and partly because he was considering the young doctor. She intrigued him. His mother and father had both been doctors—Vivian, too—and he felt an affinity with doctors.

“So how did you get glass in your eye?”

“Deer-car. Shattered the windshield.”

“A what-car?”

“Deer-car. I thought everyone up here called it that. It must happen so frequently.”

“Ah, you hit a deer.”

“No,” she returned sternly. “The deer hit me.”

“What’s the difference?”

“The difference is”— she shook her head—“Never mind.”

“Where did you—I mean, where did this deer come out and assault your car?”

Her good eye narrowed on him. She pointed up north. “A few miles east of here. It’s been towed to the dealership.”

“I see.” He felt a certain degree of concern for her, and a crazy thought thrust itself into his mind. Before considering it sufficiently, he asked, “How many nights do you need a room?”

“Just tonight. My car will be ready tomorrow. Why?”

He shrugged. Her plight yanked on him, but now he ruminated. Could he get away with it? She needed a place. He had a place. A bed and breakfast, after all. He briefly glanced up at the house that he’d been in one time. It was only for one night. He looked back at her. “Well, if you’re all right with things not being not being up to our normal standards . . ."

She shook her head. “What do you mean?”

“You can spend the night with me.” He spoke the words before realizing how they sounded, and he laughed nervously. “What I mean is, I can set you up with a room for tonight.”

She turned and eyed the house. “Do you run this place with your wife?”

Mark withheld his If you only knew response. The lost relationships—good, long relationships—that he had abandoned to avoid marriage. “No, no, not married,” he answered, stepping past her, stopping at the base of the porch stairs. “No, this place belongs to my aunt.”

She nodded feebly. “So is she here now?”

Mark picked up her apprehension, and She’s dead sounded too harsh, so he shook his head. “She’s away. I’m sort of filling in for her. Helping out, getting things in order and such.”

“Ah.” She turned her head momentarily toward the quiet street.

New leaves fluttered on the aspens across the road, the breeze pushing against the strands of her hair. “You sure it’d be all right with your aunt? I’d hate to—”

“Positive.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“Not at all.”

She briefly sucked in her lips. “So what’s the rate?”

“The rate?” He hadn’t thought of that. “For a deer-car?. . . How about twenty-five bucks.” He chuckled. “No pun intended.”

She didn’t crack a smile. “Twenty-five? Really?”

“You think it’s too much?”

“No, not at all. Makes getting hit by a deer almost worthwhile.”

“But the downside is you’re stuck in Manistique.”

She spurted out a laugh. “I’m not sure your aunt would approve if she heard you.”

He grinned. “Believe me, she won’t hear it from me.”

“I hate to impose even more, but could I ask for one more favor?”

“Sure.”

“Is there any way you can drive me to the dealership? My suitcase and bag are in my car.”

Mark checked his watch. Ten minutes to five o’clock. “We can go now if you’d like. I just need to grab my keys.”

She nodded. “Yeah, that would be great. I really appreciate it.”

Mark held out his hand. “I’m Mark, by the way.”

“Emily.”

He shook her warm, firm hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emily.” view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

1. Later in the novel, Emily admits that she probably wouldn’t have stayed at the B&B if Mark had been upfront about his aunt’s death. Was Mark wrong for not being completely truthful? For her part, was Emily justified in snooping around the house because she was suspicious of Mark?

2. Emily found medication in George’s room when she went searching for clues the morning he couldn’t be found. Should she have told Mark that George had cognitive issues or do doctors have an obligation to maintain medical confidentiality with non-patients?

3. Consider Mark’s reaction to Dr. Bulcher showing up at the house, and how Mark handled the full revelation when he spoke to Emily about it. What do you think motivated his response to her?

4. Discuss Emily’s internal conflict with Nicholas’s death. Does she deflect or accept too much blame?

5. Consider Emily’s flirtation with suicidal thoughts. She tells Mark, “Not that I would ever do that exactly.” Analyze her thoughts and actions and discuss whether you think her statement is completely credible.

6. Mark was influenced by his mother Margaret’s stories about doctor-suicide. Given all his information, should he have barged into Emily’s room the way he did? What about Emily’s decision to leave the Manistique Victorian? In particular, consider her reaction as it relates to the previous question.

7. Why did Emily decide to go downstate to meet with Dr. Greg Olsen? Discuss her decision not to tell Greg the entire truth about that night. Compare this to Mark’s tendency to withhold information.

8. Emily confesses to Mark that she had turned around and was heading east toward Mackinac when she got into her accident. Would Emily have turned around again, as Mark suggested, or do you think she would have made it to Mackinac if not for the accident?

9. Was fate really cruel to deer, as Mark said to Emily? Point out instances in the novel where fate appears to intervene.

10. Discuss any parallels between Emily and Vivian. What does the text not reveal but might be inferred from their similar (and intertwined) stories?

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