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of architecture, even Bob with his glass and open design, gasp. Courtney loved color; it made her happy. And stars knew she needed some happy.
    “Is it okay to videotape you? I’m trying to get historic footage to include in the reunion video.” These words startled Courtney, and she turned to spy a wisp of a girl who appeared out of nowhere the minute the Realtor—“Call me Spence”—showed up with the key to Doc’s place.
    Spence the Realtor, no last names needed in Blue Lake, Courtney remembered, gave the girl with the video camera an aggrieved look. Then he said to Courtney, “Daniel Bryman said she could follow people around a little bit if she wasn’t too intrusive.” He gave the girl one more hard look, which she ignored, filming away. Courtney shrugged. Permission granted.
    “Doc died ten years ago.” Spence got out the key and unlocked the door, blocking the threshold. “His kids kept this as a summer place until a year or two ago.” Spence pointed out the diamond windowpanes and the mellowed timber porch. Courtney loved it. It cast a spell on her. She was too old to be a princess, but she felt enchanted. How would Ruby feel? Well, as she’d rationalized, they didn’t have to stay. Not forever. Not right now. But this would be her refuge. Waiting for her whenever she wanted it, even if that was not until Ruby was in college.
    “You interested in using this as a residence or a commercial property?” Spence the Realtor asked.
    “Both. Maybe. I’m not sure.”
    “So you’re a doctor?” They had gone through the big foyer with the staircase into the front parlor. Pocket doors sealed the room from the family’s domain. She didn’t need medical doctor stuff in here and pictured a library office with bookshelves behind a sofa and comfortable chairs and her desk. Through the pocket doors, in what could be a dining room, she’d make a cozy family space with a television set where she and Ruby could watch movies and the baby could play. They crossed to the kitchen. An old farmhouse sink was still there, but nothing else. Lots of room for a dine-in kitchen table. A blank palette. Her favorite thing. Light slanted in the windows.
    “So what kind of doctor?” Spence asked.
    “Cognitive and behavioral therapist.”
    “No shit!” The video girl put her camera down. “I could use an emergency appointment.”
    Courtney snapped out of her whatever it was, some kind of dream where she stayed in Blue Lake and practiced in this house. Just to see what would happen with Edward. That fast, everything seemed over with Xander. Her life was moving at warp speed. She had her first patient but hadn’t even been licensed by the state yet.
    She told the girl that.
    “Could we just have coffee? I’m away from my shrink for the first time in five years, doing this job, and I really, really, really need advice. No meds, just someone to talk to. Cognitive therapy. That’s talk, right?”
    “Right.” Courtney saw the way the young girl’s hands shook.
    “Please. Oh, I’m Lily. You can ask the Brymans about me.” The Brymans were the town’s most prominent family and good friends with Courtney’s folks. “They know me. I used to work for them…”
    Spence took Courtney’s elbow. “Young lady, get your footage, and then you and my client can talk after she’s seen the rest of the house.”
    They did a walk through of the upper floors, and the house was a solid Bryman structure. The first Bryman had been an architect who designed many of the historic homes in the town. It had been built in the 1930s, and like so many of the homes in this town, by one of their own, only recently brought to national prominence by the youngest generation of Brymans. There would be no need for repairs or retrofitting. Ruby’s room, nursery, her bedroom. The bathroom had a gorgeous Victorian tub and a pedestal sink. Perfect. God, this was confusing, but some parts were very clear. She wanted this house. She’d hire someone to