LITMIR.BIZ

      CHAPTER ONE

      WHAT a beautiful little village! Dr Gabrielle Evans breathed a sigh of relief, shutting off her car in the parking spot marked Guests, in front of the quaint White Elk Lodge. She’d lived in large cities too many years. Indoctrinated herself to fast pace and convenience. Nothing about the village called White Elk seemed fast, or convenient and, right now, that suited her just fine. She was tired and, physically, she needed this stop. Surprisingly, it seemed right for her emotionally, too. Even if only for a night. Maybe two, if the bed was comfortable, the food good, a fire in the fireplace inviting, because she did have just the slightest backache, she was hungry, and the mood to settle in and be cozy was dropping down over her like a soft blanket. So much so she could picture herself sitting in front of a great stone fireplace, feet up, dozing off from pure contentment.

      Nesting. Which was to be expected in her condition.

      Besides, hadn’t she seen a little boutique on Main Street, one with the name Handmade for Baby? That was all the excuse she needed for a short holiday here. That, and her swollen ankles. Pregnant-swollen was what she called it when her patients had the same problem. Pregnant-swollen ankles, pregnant-swollen belly. Not to worry, she would say. It’s a temporary condition.

      Well, temporary condition or not, she felt like stopping. Something about White Elk appealed to her sense of esthetics. It was a homey little town, its narrow streets lined with pine trees and old-fashioned streetlamps, and white picket fences surrounded the cottage homes she’d seen from her car on the way in. Cottage homes…she’d always wanted to live in a cottage. All in all, everything she’d seen so far in this Alpine-styled village was the antithesis of her steel-and-chrome condo back in Chicago, where she lived in the middle of a mixed residential and industrial area, overlooking a frantic, elevated railway on one side and the bumper-to-bumper Chicago interstate system on the other. Her wake-up call in the morning was the honking of agitated motorists trying to inch their way through impossible traffic and her lullaby at night was the clacking of the old train over the el rails.

      And here in White Elk…no traffic. Just a few lazy drivers on the street, none who seemed agitated, none who seemed in a hurry. That, alone, could have been an enticement to stay over, if everything else she could see around her hadn’t already drawn her in. Besides, the drive back to the airport was still another ninety miles, and her reservation home to Chicago wasn’t until tomorrow. Meaning she was going to stay in a hotel room for the night somewhere. So, why not here? “And it’s not like I’ve got anything to hurry back to,” she said aloud, a habit she’d developed since she’d learned she was pregnant. Talking to her unborn baby…it’s what she urged her patients to do, and in this case, she took her own advice. Chattered away to him all the time. “Anyway, what’s the hurry getting back? It’s not like I have a job waiting for me any more. Right now, I’m here, and here seems very nice. You should see it, Bryce. People smile. Perfect strangers wave.”

      Yes,

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