Finding Luck Read online

  To Elinor, and everyone at Bridle Hill Farm

  Chapter 1

  “STARBUCK, STOP THAT!” WILLA GIGGLED. The pony snuffled Willa’s shoulder and nibbled at the ends of her walnut-colored hair. Willa reached around and scratched the pony’s whiskered chin.

  “She’s hungry,” Ben said. He snapped stems of the clover that grew along the driveway, just out of the buckskin pony’s reach. He held out the bouquet, tickling Starbuck’s lips.

  “How could she be hungry?” Mom asked, not even looking up from the garden patch she was weeding. “You give her fresh-picked treats all day.”

  Starbuck stretched out her neck and tried to lip at the white flower, but Ben quickly pulled it away.

  “Please don’t feed her any of the herbs and plants we’re growing for the restaurant,” Mom said, shaking a seed packet. Soon the kids’ dad would be opening a restaurant right there, on the main floor of their house. It was going to be part of the family’s bed-and-breakfast, which was called Misty Inn. Of course, they’d had only two guests so far, but they had all worked hard getting the old house ready.

  “Don’t tease her,” Willa insisted. She scowled at her brother.

  “I don’t want to spoil her,” Ben claimed. A sly smile played at the corner of his mouth.

  “Just give it to her, Ben,” Mom said, “but then call it quits. If you keep hand-feeding her, she’ll forget how to graze like a normal horse.”

  Willa knew that wasn’t true. Starbuck was too smart to forget something like that. Besides, grazing came naturally to horses.

  “Sometimes I forget she’s here,” Ben confessed, combing his fingers through her black mane. “And it’s like a big present when I look in the field.”

  “Me too,” Willa agreed. “But sometimes it feels like she’s always been here. Doesn’t it?” It was a funny thing for Willa to say. After all, the Dunlaps hadn’t lived at Misty Inn that long. It had been less than a year ago that their family had moved to Chincoteague Island. The large Victorian house was very different than their tiny apartment in the big city of Chicago.

  Starbuck had come to live at Misty Inn several months later, in the fall. The pony had spent almost the whole summer at their grandma’s rescue center. While she was there, the kids had helped Starbuck get better from a leg injury. After that, they had worried that Grandma Edna would find a new home for the sweet mare. Their grandma was very practical with the animals at the rescue center. “Miller Farm is not a place for pets,” she often said.

  In the end, it was clear that Starbuck was the one who chose her new home—and she chose to be with the Dunlaps. It was also clear that Grandma Edna understood that they belonged together.

  Now it was spring. “It doesn’t matter how long she’s been here; it just matters that she stays here,” Ben said.

  Starbuck whinnied and threw her head in the air. “Starbuck agrees,” Willa said.

  Ben laughed, and their puppy, Amos, barked. With his tail wagging, he circled Ben’s feet. Amos was new to Misty Inn too. He had arrived with Buttercup, a neighbor’s horse who lived in the old barn.

  The only one who had real history at the house was New Cat. As a stray, the tabby cat had enjoyed her afternoons on the sunny, warm porch.

  In fact, that was where she was resting now. New Cat was sprawled out, her green eyes barely open. Her ear twitched at the sound of a motor. She forced her lazy eyes open as the noise came closer.

  “It’s Grandma!” Ben called, waving toward an old, red pickup truck that pulled into the driveway.

  “Afternoon, Dunlaps,” Grandma Edna said. She reached to pick up a package from the other seat. “I’ve got something for you.”

  “For me?” Ben asked. Willa shook her head.

  “For all of you,” Grandma said. The skin around her eyes crinkled when she smiled. “But mostly for your parents, I guess.”

  Willa turned to see her mom’s face. Were adults used to getting surprise packages?

  Grandma Edna slid out of the truck and held out her freckled arms. The present was wrapped in brown paper, tied with twine.

  “Hi, Mom.” The kids’ mom tucked the seed packet in the pocket of her gardening apron.

  “Hello, dear,” Grandma responded. “This is something to help you on your way.”

  Willa and Ben exchanged glances. Grandma Edna almost always said what was on her mind. But lately they had noticed that she was dropping hints. She didn’t always say what she really meant. Willa wondered if she was doing that now.

  Mom started to pull at the wrapping, but then Ben rushed forward and ripped the paper wide open. “What is it?” Ben asked.

  “It’s a banner,” Grandma said. “It says ‘Grand Opening.’ It is for your bed-and-breakfast. You’ll have a full house next weekend.”

  Mom gasped. “What?”

  “My friend runs an inn on the far side of the island,” Grandma explained. “She accidentally double-booked all her rooms, so I said you would take her extra guests.”

  “What?” Mom repeated.

  “You really can’t put off opening this inn any longer, dear,” Grandma Edna said. “You and Eric have to be in business by summer if you want to be a success.”

  “Did I hear Edna Miller out here?” Dad appeared on the porch, holding a whisk in his hand. He was smiling.

  “My mom just found us a house full of guests for next weekend,” Mom told Dad.

  “An inn full of guests,” Grandma Edna corrected. “You are about to officially open your bed-and-breakfast. It isn’t just a house anymore. It’s an inn.”

  Grandma returned to her truck and, before she drove away, called out the window, “I’m excited for you!”

  Willa looked at Dad. The whisk now dangled at his side. His smile was gone.

  Next Willa looked at Ben. He had been staring at Starbuck, but he glanced back at his sister. Willa could tell he was as worried as she was. If the two of them wanted to stay on Chincoteague and keep Starbuck, they would have to get to work.

  Chapter 2

  “THAT IS VERY SOON,” DAD said. He was looking at the calendar on his phone. Dad walked over and sat down on the porch swing. “Seriously soon,” he added.

  “I can’t believe my mother did this to us,” Mom replied.

  “If it’s a grand opening, the restaurant has to be ready too,” Dad realized out loud. He rubbed his chin. “I don’t even have a produce supplier yet.”

  Willa knew what a produce supplier was. Dad had used one at his job back in Chicago. “Produce” was a word for fruits and vegetables. The “produce supplier” brought all the fresh food directly to the restaurant so Dad wouldn’t have to go to the grocery store to shop for everything.

  “And I’ll have to tell Russo’s I won’t be able to work nights anymore.” Dad had been filling in as a cook at an Italian restaurant. He wouldn’t be able to work both places at once.

  Ben stared at Willa. The whole reason their family had moved to Chincoteague Island was so Dad could open his own restaurant and Mom could run a bed-and-breakfast. At first, Willa and Ben hadn’t been sure it was a good idea. They had liked Chicago, and they had liked their friends there. But, after a while, Chincoteague had begun to feel like home. They had made wonderful new friends. Most of all, they now had Starbuck. If their parents’ plans for Misty Inn didn’t work out, it would mean another move for the Dunlaps. The kids understood that. They also knew that a different town would mean a lot more changes. Chances were that they wouldn’t be able to take Starbuck with them. Neither Willa nor Ben could bear the thought of that.

  Willa could feel the worry churning in her belly. She had to do something. “You’re both being silly,” she announced. “Grandma’s right. It’s time to get cracking.”

  Mom and Dad raised
their eyebrows but didn’t say a word.

  Willa walked over to Mom, who was scowling at a long, narrow strip of paper that she had pulled out of her pocket. Willa gently pulled the paper from Mom’s hand. It was a list. She skimmed it.

  * order new mailbox

  * plant rosebushes

  * paint parking sign

  * buy vases for dinner tables

  * AND a lot of other things

  “There isn’t anything on here that has to be done before we open, is there?” Willa insisted, not waiting for either of her parents to answer. “We don’t need more to-do lists; we just need to do it.”

  Of course, Willa had never opened a bed-and-breakfast before. She didn’t know exactly what was and wasn’t needed. She just needed to convince her mom and dad that they were in good shape. She sure hoped they were, anyway.

  Last fall the Dunlaps had all worked to get the bed-and-breakfast ready for its first visitors. In order to make it happen, Mom had stopped talking about all the things they had to do and had started making lists instead. Ever since the success of that trial weekend, Mom had kept making lists. She had made hundreds by now. She could always find more ways to improve Misty Inn.

  It wasn’t that Willa didn’t like lists. She actually loved lists, even more than Mom. But she knew when enough was enough.

  “And, Dad,” Willa added, thinking fast, “sure, you’ll need a produce guy. But think about all the stuff you already have.” She took Dad by the hand. She led him into the kitchen and opened the pantry door. Ben followed right behind.

  The pantry at Misty Inn was no ordinary pantry. Willa had seen pictures of the closets of famous actresses and singers, with shelves for shoes and color-coded hangers for fancy gowns. She thought of her dad’s pantry as the same thing, but for chefs.

  “Just look,” Willa said. “You are totally set.”

  In one glance, Willa saw seven types of salt, four different kinds of paprika, and more than a half dozen brands of flour. Vanilla extract, vanilla beans still in the pods, and vanilla syrup. There were also dried versions of all the herbs Mom had planted in the flower beds, hanging in upside-down bouquets from the top shelf. “Dad, you’re a chef. You love to make food. You should be excited to get started.”

  Ben reached out and pulled a stack of handwritten recipes off the shelf. He handed them to Dad. “Time to cook your recipes, Dad.”

  Their dad had always worked for a big restaurant, and another chef, often a famous one, had been in charge. The restaurant at Misty Inn was not big, but it was Dad’s first chance to be the head chef. It was his first chance to make his own menu with all his own recipes, too.

  “You know, kids, I think you’re right,” Dad admitted, smiling at Willa. He held the food-stained pages of recipes in one hand and pulled Ben close with the other. “Thanks, you two. Mom and I needed the pep talk.”

  “Just a little tighter,” Mom called to Dad. “And to the left.”

  It was the next day, and Dad was up on the roof of their house. It seemed like he had been there for an hour. Willa and her friend Sarah Starling had ridden bikes, played five rounds of War with cards, and staged four tree-climbing races since he had first crawled out the upstairs window.

  Dad was putting up the GRAND OPENING banner. Mom wanted it to hang between the two windows on the third floor. Willa kept her eye on him as she played.

  Dad inched his way toward the far side of the banner. His body was tilted forward and his feet were spread wide as he tried to keep his balance. A brisk wind was coming from the ocean. It whipped the banner right out of Dad’s hands.

  “You need to secure the bottom corners,” Mom instructed. Willa caught her breath as Dad stumbled forward. The wind lifted his baseball cap off his head.

  “Dad, come down!” Willa yelled. She ran over to where Mom watched.

  “I’ve almost got it,” he insisted, raising his voice.

  “He’ll be fine,” Mom said, resting her hand on Willa’s shoulder. “Your dad’s very sure-footed.”

  Just then a rumble sounded. Willa looked up and spotted a black cloud. It seemed like it had appeared out of nowhere. It now hung directly over Assateague.

  Assateague was the thin barrier island that lay between Chincoteague and the open sea. It was home to two herds of wild ponies. From up where Dad was, he could probably see the old lighthouse on Assateague. The red-and-white lighthouse had been there for more than a hundred years and still shone a beam as a warning to ships at sea.

  Another roll of thunder sounded like hooves pounding across the sky. The black cloud was crossing the bay.

  “Dad, hurry!” Willa cried. Sarah had now joined her next to Mom.

  Mom was glancing out toward the sea. “Yes, dear. Hurry! A storm is coming.”

  “Sarah! Sarah!” It was Ben, running from up the street. He had been at the Starling’s. “You have to go home. Your parents told me to tell you they need help getting the animals in before it rains.”

  “But the horses and goats can stay out in the rain,” Sarah said with a shrug.

  “I don’t think this is just any rain, Sarah,” Mom said, looking at the dark clouds spreading across the sky. “You should head home now, sweetie.”

  A growl of thunder forced Sarah and Willa to say their good-byes. As soon as Sarah reached the end of the driveway, plump raindrops began to fall.

  Chapter 3

  IT DIDN’T TAKE MOM LONG to check the weather forecast on her phone. When she did, she insisted Dad get down right away.

  “Don’t worry about the banner,” Mom called. “We can open the inn without a banner. We can’t open without you!”

  As soon as she saw Dad crawl back through the window and give a thumbs-up sign—indicating he had hung the banner in spite of the weather—Mom put the rest of the family to work.

  Willa and Ben’s first job was to bring Starbuck and Buttercup inside. The animals would be safer—and drier—in their stalls with flakes of hay to keep them busy. Of course, Amos also needed his dinner since he’d stay with the horses. Next the kids rolled their bikes into the barn.

  The few raindrops falling were heavy and thunder kept booming. Slate-colored clouds were above, bringing on an early night.

  Mom hurried around, making sure all the old house’s shutters were latched closed. She turned over the outside furniture. “Search the yard for anything that could be lifted and carried by a strong wind,” she said, picking up a rake and a short shovel. When she put her gardening tools in the barn, she grabbed a bungee cord.

  “Help me with the grill!” Mom yelled to Willa, waving the cord over her head.

  Willa hurried over to the patio, her arms wet with the rain. The wind crept into her cotton dress, making it balloon out in all directions. “You really think this thing is going anywhere?” Willa asked, looking at the big black appliance with the propane tank underneath.

  “Best to be on the safe side,” Mom yelled over the swirling wind. She stretched the colorful cord around the deck railing and then handed the other hooked end to Willa.

  “I think it’s better to be inside,” Willa answered. She tugged on the cord until it was tightly secured around the barbecue.

  “Yes,” Mom agreed. “Let’s go.” She grabbed Willa’s hand and they ran, their hair and clothes streaming behind them. They escaped inside through the kitchen door just as a clash of thunder cracked in the sky.

  The rumbles of thunder and patter of rain were muffled in the big house. Willa immediately felt more at ease when Mom wrapped her in a towel. “I’m going to get dry clothes,” she said with a shiver. She passed Ben on the stairs.

  “It’s movie weather!” Ben announced, his sleeping bag trailing behind him.

  “I’ll make popcorn,” Dad offered. Willa saw Mom roll her eyes. Willa guessed her mom was still in high gear, wanting to do more to fix up the inn.

  “Come on, Amelia,” Dad said, his head in the pantry. “Mother Nature is telling us to take a break. I can make you a bowl without bu
tter.”

  “Popcorn without butter?” Mom asked. “What’s the point?” She smiled at Dad.

  “Come help pick a movie,” Ben called from the sofa. And that’s when the lights flickered and went out.

  “The TV died,” Ben groaned. “No movie.”

  “What’s Mother Nature telling us now?” Mom wondered out loud.

  “Popcorn and board games by candlelight!” Willa said from the landing. She then rushed down the stairs and opened the game cabinet. She didn’t want to miss out on family time. “That’s exactly what Mother Nature’s saying.”

  The Dunlaps played through the howling wind and pouring rain. The kids flinched when the crackles of the storm were fierce, but they huddled close. They played until Willa and Ben were too tired to climb the stairs for bed, so they slept—in sleeping bags—on the family-room floor. They knew they wouldn’t be allowed to do anything like that when the inn was full of guests.

  “Look at this,” Mom grumbled as she opened the front door. It was the next morning, and the yard was a soggy patchwork of sticks and leaves. A thin layer of sand covered everything.

  The kids checked on Starbuck and Buttercup first thing. When they opened up the barn, Starbuck whinnied a hello. Even though the pony didn’t like to be cooped up, Willa knew they couldn’t put her or Buttercup out in the field. The ground was still too wet.

  Dad approached from the other side of the house. “I’ve got some bad news,” he said. Willa and Ben followed their parents around to the back, the toes of their rain boots sinking in the marshy grass.

  “Apparently those lightning flashes were closer than we thought.” Dad pointed to a tree. It was an old black willow, its branches reaching higher than the house.

  “It lost a limb,” Ben whined.

  “It broke a window,” Dad added. He pointed toward the house. “In our best guest room.”