Here's an excerpt from The Bluebird Bet:
His father’s voice stopped him. “Invited her out. She’s coming to take a look around.”
“Who? The doctor? Why?” The place definitely would not show well, not yet. He’d get to work on that soon, but not today. Today was for forcing himself to take it slow. He had to learn sometime, and the sooner, the better.
His dad sighed and pulled his pole out of the water to set it on the dock. “She used to visit. Loved the tearoom and the inn.”
Dean looked over his shoulder at the house he’d grown up in. When his mother was alive, she’d settled for nothing less than pristine white paint with bright blue shutters, precisely manicured gardens and flags snapping in the breeze to welcome visitors.
The gray boards and peeling paint, ragged flower beds, and air of general fatigue almost made it hard to believe it was the same place.
Except the beautiful bones were still there. He counted six windows across the front of the house, the finest guest rooms, and wished he’d thought to camp in one of those. The view of the lake might have helped calm some of his anger and irritation and just…overwhelming emotion.
Something had to or he might have a meltdown, lose the control he’d worked so hard to hold on to.
Sometimes, when he was staring out the window in the middle of the night, he wondered if he was already there.