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Love Came Unexpectedly
Ruth Scofield
Nurse and former foster child Sunny Merrill was stunned when she inherited a fishing resort from the grandfather she'd never known.And there was a condition: she must live there for one year. Which wouldn't be a hardship for Sunny, especially not after she met handsome neighbor Grant Prentiss. The rancher and riding stable owner was always around to lend a helping hand, and their relationship blossomed.Sunny even began dreaming about a future in which they could combine their properties - and lives - and build a getaway for foster children. But would their unexpected love be destroyed when Sunny discovered the secret Grant was keeping from her?



“Grant, do you live here all year?”
“I do now. I didn’t before starting the stable. But I’ve been here two years.”
“In the winter, too?”
“Sure. That’s my quiet time. The lake is much more peaceful then. There’s things to do in winter. Things you put off from summer. Even a few customers. You’ll see.”
Of course…Sunny hadn’t thought of anything past getting the resort open, but she could imagine things she could do in winter. The stipulation said she’d have to live and work here a year. What would it be like then, with no customers?
She pushed the worries aside, trusting God to take care of them. At the moment, all she wanted was to enjoy this wonderful, unexpected gift of a boat ride.
And the oh-so-pleasant company of Grant.

RUTH SCOFIELD
became serious about writing after she’d raised her children. Until then, she’d concentrated her life on being a June Cleaver-type wife and mother, spent years as a Bible student and teacher for teens and young adults, and led a weekly women’s prayer group. When she’d made a final wedding dress and her last child had left the nest, she declared to one and all that it was her turn to activate a dream. Thankfully, her husband applauded her decision.
Ruth’s first book was published in 1993 just a month after her return to her native Missouri after years in the East. She often sets her novels in Missouri, where there are lakes and hills aplenty, and as many stories and history as people. She eagerly expects to write at least two dozen more novels.

Love Came Unexpectedly
Ruth Scofield


If you wish to remain in Me and My words remain
in you, ask whatever you wish,
and it will be given you.
—John 15:7
I wish to thank Tom and LuDawn Rodman
for their ever-present enthusiasm for the
Lake of the Ozarks, the boat rides, jet ski rides,
parasailing and their love of family. Your help
is always there and valuable. Thank you.

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Letter to Reader

Chapter One
Grant Prentiss, without becoming obvious, stood near enough to watch the young woman as she talked with that Realtor, Jim Lindberg. Grant hoped she’d view him as just another idler, someone interested in the water and docks. That is, if she paid him the least bit of attention. He didn’t want her to think he was overly curious.
Though he was.
He’d give a good yahoo to know what Jim Lindberg wanted. Although that was obvious enough. Jim Lindberg was a Realtor and if he wasn’t offering his services to sell this place, Grant would eat his favorite ball cap.
He wore a straw cowboy hat now. Without thinking, he removed it to brush back his dark hair. His hand came away damp with sweat before he replaced his hat.
Was the Realtor telling her what the resort was truly worth? Some sky-high figure, no doubt. Resorts like Sunshine Acres didn’t stay on the market long, but the reality was usually lower than what was promised.
Besides, the resort was old and the cabins needed updating, though honest repairs were at a minimum.
Sunny Merrill had inherited this resort. Its location and large acreage made it a prime property in spite of its aging cabins. She hadn’t wasted any time getting here after notification, he thought. She’d hardly had time to properly look at Sunshine Acres.
But she couldn’t sell it. Not right away, at least.
Grant surreptitiously glanced their way again.
Sunny Merrill looked like a bright summer day, with golden hair falling straight down around her shoulders, and gorgeous long legs showing under dark tan shorts. She was well named, he thought. She was rather tall, and he wondered where she’d stand, measured against him. Skinny as she was, she had all the right curves.
The two moved closer, down the slope toward the water. He prayed they would stop at the shoreline and not come onto the docks. He knelt and pulled his boat motor from his boat. It needed a cleaning, something he’d do later after supper.
Glancing again, he saw they had paused. He sighed—he wasn’t quite ready for introductions.
She probably wasn’t as pretty up close.
He glanced from the side of his vision, which told him nothing. She had a small straight nose and large eyes. He couldn’t tell what color.
She didn’t look like old Nathan much. But kids didn’t often look like their grandparents, did they?
Where had she been all this time? he wondered for the hundredth time. Yet he knew. They’d found her in Minneapolis. She worked in private practice as a charge nurse, she was twenty-six years old and she lived alone.
That didn’t really answer his question.
But true to predictions, she’d come flying down to the Ozarks as soon as she heard about her inheritance. Oh, she’d driven in today, not flown. But she’d come, all the same, in a hurry. And now, what irked him to the hilt was that she’d contacted a real estate person right from the get-go.
Yet she had to contact Mr. Windom, the lawyer, at some point, didn’t she? To collect the keys and pick up whatever else there was to pick up?
They turned toward the docks, so Grant put the motor down and casually strolled to docks’ end. He watched a jet ski come in, way too fast, sending waves rippling his way to rock the wooden dock. This was usually a rather quiet cove, more filled with fishermen, isolated on the land side by a gravel road through huge stone cliffs and uncharted timber.
They didn’t get many jet skis or water skiers here. Their clientele was quieter. People—customers—often came in by boat; the old gravel road took longer.
He listened as one voice grew more distinct. The Realtor’s. He tipped his head, listening.
“The docks are your best asset,” Jim said. “They are in good shape and you have a lift that works. Someone has been seeing to these things. Now if you put a little money into the cabins, I can get you top dollar.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
She spoke in a rich contralto, a soft voice that had enough charm to easily lull bees and bunnies. It buzzed along Grant’s nerve ends like rich dark honey, and he realized it could lull him, too, if he wasn’t careful.
“Willis can do anything you want done. He’s reliable.”
“I appreciate your coming all the way out here with me, to see the place, Mr. Lindberg.” She spoke smoothly, as though she was used to dealing with high pressure. “But I’m just not ready to make up my mind. The lawyer told me I needed to live here a year to inherit and I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet. I have a job I have to decide about, too, you know, and I’ve hardly had time to assess anything yet. Or evaluate it.”
Determinedly, Grant thought he might as well get it over with and meet the new owner. He had to do it sometime. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to let Lindberg know he was around.
He moved toward them. Casually, as though he had nothing more on his mind than meeting his new neighbor.
“Hi there, Grant,” Jim turned at his approach and spoke in his bright voice, apparently not at all surprised to see him. “Going fishing this evening?”
“Hi, Jim. Nah, just checking my motor. Needs cleaning. Too hot to go fishing anyway. Though I may take a dip.”
“Grant, I’d like you to meet old Nathan’s, um, granddaughter, the new owner of Sunshine Acres. Sunny Merrill.”
Grant let his gaze swing her way; he wanted to look directly at her. He wanted to see her face at closer range. He wanted to see if she was really as pretty as she seemed.
Her cheeks were high and pale with little makeup, with a wide, barely lipsticked mouth. Her eyes were hazel, as he recalled her grandmother’s being, a soft green-brown color.
His gaze settled on her mouth. She had the wide shape of Nathan’s mouth. Startled at the knowledge, he barely registered the tired lines around her eyes.
He remained silent. Then realizing she expected him to say something, he spoke.
“Hi. Grant Prentiss.” He held out his hand and she reached to meet it. Her fingers were firm beneath the soft skin. “I own Grant’s Retreat.”
At her blank stare, he added, thumbing over his shoulder, “I’m your next-door neighbor. It’s a riding stable. I’ve only been up and running this last year, and your granddad helped me get underway. In fact, he sold me the land. I, uh…I really appreciated his help along the way.”
“That’s nice.” She said it automatically. Without meaning.
Well, of course. She’d have no attachment to old Nathan. Not like he did. It meant nothing that Nathan—
He shut down his thoughts. That way led to disaster. He’d better leave it alone.
“Well, I guess you’ll let me know,” Jim said reluctantly, as though if he let her go without a firm commitment, he would lose a sale. “In any case, I want to welcome you to the Ozarks and the lake. After you get settled in, maybe we could have lunch one day next week.”
“Perhaps.”
“Okay, then. Just come by or call. I’m usually around.” Jim walked down the dock and then disappeared up the stairs and over the horizon.
Grant was glad to see him go.
Quiet reigned. Grant tried not to stare at her, but he was losing the battle.
He drew a deep breath. “I guess you’ll want to look around. I know this place as well as I know my own. Grew up coming here, summers. I can point out…”
Her eyes were glazing over. “Um, want me to guide you?”
There was a tightening to her lips.
“Mmm… I don’t think I need you, thank you. I’ll just find my own way about. Mr. Lindberg says the owner’s cabin is the gray one?”
“That’s right.”
“I’ll have a look at that. And maybe find a bed.”
They walked off the docks and up the concrete stairs. The noise of the jet ski had faded, and the place was filled with only the sighing of the wind and the chattering of the birds. Silent without guests. Peaceful.
“Have you ever been down to the Lake of the Ozarks before?” Grant asked.
“No. I’ve heard about it, of course. Some of my patients have talked about vacationing somewhere on the lake. I seldom paid attention because I’ve always been so busy. Never thought I’d be in the position of owning a resort, though. It’s quite large, isn’t it?”
“The resort or the lake?”
“Um, both, I guess.”
“Oh, yeah,” he answered slowly. “Okay. Um, the Acres consists of about forty acres, with a lease on more of the timber.” He swung an arm up, pointing to the timbered hills. “There’s about forty-eight acres of timber, too rough to do a lot with, edging my land.”
“That’s very nice.” She said it as though he were talking of the moon.
“Not too many isolated places like this one left. This is one of the reasons this property is so valuable.”
“So I’ve been told. Look, it’s very nice of you to tell me all that, but—”
“No buts to it. That’s why I wanted to talk with you as soon as possible. You see, I had a deal with your granddad. If you’re going to sell Sunshine Acres…that is, after your year is up…well, before he knew about you, he promised to sell the place to me.”
She stopped outside the gray cabin. She studied him, stared into his eyes a long time.
“You know a lot about my situation, don’t you?”
“Enough.” He nodded, wondering what she was thinking, how she thought, the processes of her brain. “I know you are an unknown quantity—a newly discovered granddaughter. A nurse from Minneapolis. Old Nathan was a friend of mine.”
“A close friend, hmm?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“Yes, I…understand. Well, Mr. Prentiss,” she said coolly. “I can’t make any decisions for a year about selling, but when I do, then I’ll entertain all offers. By a year from now, I’ll have this whole thing under control. Now if you’ll excuse me?”
She unlocked the door, went through, and closed it in his face. Grant stood a moment, startled at her rudeness, then angrily wheeled away. What a cold package!

From the other side of the door, Sunny heard him leave. Sighing, she closed her eyes a moment. All this was strange, totally new, and nothing had prepared her for it. It was nothing like her life back home, with work, and study, church and visits with the Larsons.
Nothing like knowing she was alone. This inheritance gave her a strange identity, a different understanding of herself. She felt she had to learn a whole new side to who she was and where she came from.
Finally, she turned to view the cabin she’d be living in for a year. Alone.
Alone and…managing. Everything was quiet, the quiet of deep hush. She listened for traffic, for a radio or television from another apartment, for far away, unseen voices, but all she heard was the breeze.
She glanced around. Was there anything left of her grandfather here?
Sunny laid the keys on the deep blue-speckled counter beside the door. The cabin was divided into two sections; the front was an office, and she presumed the back was the manager’s living quarters.
She turned to look at the office. A huge desk, knee-deep in clutter, sat next to a large window; she’d have to go through that the first chance she had. No telling what was there. Opposite the desk sat two comfortable office chairs against the wall.
To her left was the counter, which held the computer and phone. Both were about ten years old; she switched on the computer, and it immediately booted up. She marveled that it still worked. She shut it off; tomorrow, when she’d rested, she’d look into things more thoroughly.
Behind the counter was a wall of shelves stacked with brochures and other literature, and a cork board loaded with pictures. Hung from the second shelf down, at eye level, was a row of keys. For the six cabins, she suspected.
Tomorrow would be time enough to inspect them. They were empty and locked, and had been since the death of her grandfather.
She pushed through the door in the middle of the office and found herself in the living quarters. This is where her grandfather had spent his off time.
There wasn’t much to it. A mid-sized room that was a combination kitchen, living room and dining room. A large window let in the dying light. There were a sagging sofa, a couple of dark-shaded lamps, an aged TV and a brand-new kitchen dining set of medium oak.
Along the wall sat shelves of books—years and years of publications, mostly popular fiction.
She strolled over to run her eyes over some titles. Many were from early in the 20th century. Nathan liked Westerns. It figured.
From the living room, a back door led to a modern deck. It had been added in recent years, she concluded, and was set with a variety of chairs. She decided this was where her grandfather had entertained.
Adjacent to the living room were the bathroom and a tiny bedroom, just big enough for a bed, a small chest of drawers and an equally tiny closet.
She found a well-placed wall lamp above the bed, and clean sheets on the bed. How odd…that old Nathan would leave the bed ready for a different occupant.
Or that someone had.
An open book, a Western, lay face down on the bedside table.
A few old clothes still occupied the closet. Were they her grandfather’s clothes? They must be. Had he worn this old shirt? She touched it, a faded brown plaid, and took it from its hook. It was clean but wrinkled.
She held it to her nose. It smelled of laundry soap and the breeze that had dried it.
Unexpected tears welled up, and she buried her face in the rumpled shirt. Where had they come from? She held the shirt away again. The tears rolled down her cheeks.
She had never known her grandfather.
“Oh, mercy. This won’t do.” She hadn’t expected them at all, and she swiped at them with the back of her hand. How she wished she’d had a chance to meet her grandfather. If she’d known…
But she hadn’t. She’d been told about her father, Johnny Merrill, and how Alison, her mom, had loved him. She had heard all about their runaway romance, and how Johnny’d died in an accident before Sunny was born. Her gentle mother had been heartbroken.
Her mom had spoken of him with lingering affection and love in the days of Sunny’s growing up, but they’d lived from hand to mouth. Alison never told Sunny anything about Johnny’s parents.
What her mom had said was that there were no living relatives. Sunny had assumed they were all gone, like Mom, now, to cancer, and her mother’s parents, to a heart attack and an accident. Like her dad.
She sighed. Alison had died when Sunny was twelve. Sunny had finished her growing up in foster families, some better than others. But she’d been blessed beyond reason when she’d finally fallen in with the Larsons at almost fifteen.
They’d helped her grow to womanhood and Sunny visited them now every week, along with their current crop of foster kids. She especially loved little Lori.
Well, this was her inheritance. She sniffed back her tears and straightened. After the inspection, she had intended to go back to town to a motel and to have a good dinner. She’d driven since early morning, from Minneapolis, and she was exhausted.
But that was changed now. She’d sleep here. She put the shirt back in the closet.
Sunny set about unloading her car. It was almost dark, and she turned on all the lights in the cabin as she traipsed back and forth carrying her things inside. There wasn’t much; she had packed for only a couple of weeks. She’d planned to stay only until she could understand where she stood with all this.
But the lawyer said she had to live here a year…
She wouldn’t think of that now. There were immediate things that demanded attention. The stack of bills she’d spied on the desk and counter, for one.
Bills made her comfortable. After all, she’d been paying them since she’d turned sixteen, and at twenty-six she felt comfortable and disciplined taking care of them. She’d worked steadily, first as a nurses’ aide, then at anything she could find while she went to school. She’d been in fast food, first a fry girl, then a waitress, moving from one restaurant up to another where the tips were better. She’d saved every penny she could to go to school. She still owed on college loans, but she was paying them off a little at a time.
First thing tomorrow, after she’d made an inventory of the entire place, she would know where she was with it all. She’d never lived outside a city before, and the idea began to make inroads on her mind.
Only squirrels could be heard…and the lapping of the lake. Crickets began their song. The dark outside was vast and enclosed everything.
She hurriedly locked her car, then went inside the cabin and locked the outside door. There, that was better. She checked all the windows, finding two unlocked.
“Imagine, leaving the place so vulnerable,” she mumbled aloud, thinking of thieves and rapists and murderers. She turned each lock with precise care.
There were no shades on the office windows; anyone out there could see into the cabin. Biting her lip, she closed the door connecting the office and living quarters. Tight and cozy at last, she finally sank into a kitchen chair.
It was quiet.
Jumping up, she switched on the television. There was a big satellite dish by the side of the cabin. Reception…
…was minimal.
She flipped from channel to channel, but there wasn’t enough to catch her attention. She sighed her disappointment and turned it off. She might as well see what was in the cupboard. A can of soup would do for dinner.
She found several. Tomato, beef barley, vegetable. She had a choice.
The refrigerator switched on, sounding loud in the silence. She nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Oh, I’m being silly,” she said aloud. “This is mine now. I’ll get used to it, won’t I, Granddad? I can even learn to fish if I want to, and go boating. And when I sell the place, I’ll pay off my school loans and help the Larsons…”
She laughed at herself. If her granddad were alive, would he think her crazy for talking to herself?
Most people would. It would be better to think of that Grant guy to get herself in the proper frame of mind. She imagined herself recounting her adventures to the Larsons. Grant was good-looking enough to appeal to most females—and he wore a cowboy hat.
Yeah, he sure was good-looking. And he had great eyes, though they stared at her with suspicion. Never mind. She just wasn’t interested in dark-headed cowboys right now. She had more important concerns about her future, not romance.

Chapter Two
She woke suddenly. For half a moment, she was confused about where she was. A whispering drifted from her half sleep, seeping away as she woke. What had she heard?
She lay silently, listening for something…
A motor boat, far away, made her aware of where she was—a place completely different from her apartment or the busy hospital or doctor’s office she knew.
Faint light sifted around the edges of the curtains. It was morning? Time to get up and going on the day. She had so much to do she hardly knew where to start.
Jumping from the bed, she padded to open the door to the office. Her quick inspection of the kitchen the night before hadn’t unearthed a coffeepot, so she’d have to make do with the one she’d spied on the metal file cabinet in the office. She suspected it was kept there to supply guests when they stopped by.
The office was full of light, though the sun was just beginning to send rays through the front windows. She blinked into the sunlight. It was later than she’d thought.
The coffeepot sat on a hot plate. She hurriedly tiptoed over to grab it before she realized she was alone. There was no need to remain quiet.
Someone rapped on the front door. In the quiet, it sounded more like pounding.
“Eeek…” She squealed and jumped a foot, her heart beating hard. Who was at her door? Already? She wasn’t ready for company. She was in her shorty pj’s.
Which reminded her there were no curtains on the office windows. Anyone could look in and see her. The fact that she was no longer in a city with busy streets and crowded hallways did nothing to calm her. That was what she was used to.
She scurried back through the inner door, closing it behind her. Whoever was at the outer door could just wait. Or go away, she didn’t care. Imagine expecting her to be on call at the crack of dawn!
The knocking continued.
Grabbing her lavender summer robe, she slipped it on, then hurried barefoot to open the office door.
The tall guy from last night stood there…what was his name? His gaze went from her tousled head to her painted toenails, noting where the robe stopped at her knees. Why did he make her feel she was exposing more than she should? Her robe covered more than a pair of shorts did.
“What is it?” She asked rather grumpily. Her temper made her impatient and cranky. Then her training kicked in. She cleared her throat and said more evenly, “May I help you?”
He raised a brow, an amused grin starting to spread.
“I thought since this is your first morning here, you might like to go out to breakfast.”
“Well, I don’t know…um…?” She stumbled for his name. She usually remembered people’s names, but at the moment his mischievous look distracted her.
“Grant.” His smile spread wider.
“Ah, yes. Like the Civil War general.”
“As a matter of fact, that’s the way it was. My granddad is a history buff, and he named me.”
“Oh, is that a fact?” She was interested in spite of his silly grin. No one knew much about her personal history.
“How about breakfast?”
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” She was starving. There wasn’t anything in the refrigerator except mustard and ketchup, and the soup from dinner the night before was long gone. She’d have to grocery shop at some time, she knew. “Give me fifteen minutes to get ready.”
She turned, and raced into the bedroom.
“Fifteen minutes?” He called after her. “Most women take that long just to get into the shower.”
She heard him, but she didn’t answer. She’d been trained to take three-minute showers, and two-minute dry-offs. Getting dressed was a matter of grabbing the clothes off the top of the stack in her suitcase.
True to her word, she reappeared in the office in fifteen minutes. She wore jeans, a blue T-shirt, and brown sandals. She’d combed through her wet hair with the speed of lightning, and twisted it up with a large clip. She wore no makeup.
“I don’t believe it,” he said, looking at his watch, then giving her a once-over glance. “Fifteen minutes to the second.”
“I never usually take long,” she said with a note of pride. “But for breakfast, I put a rush on it. Where are we going?”
It didn’t matter a whit. She could eat a cow. Maybe two.
“There’s a place about ten miles that way that’s good.”
She had no idea where “that way” was. She supposed he was safe enough. He escorted her out to the road where a small red pickup was parked.
“Now tell me, where did you get the name Sunny?”
“My mom named me Sunny because she said the day I was born was the sunniest day she’d ever seen,” she said, climbing into the truck. She did know that much, at least.
“What did your dad say to that?” He closed her door, then went around to his side.
Sunny shrugged. “I don’t know. He died before I was born.”
“That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Oh, um…that your granddad never said…never knew about you. I guess the communication got lost along the way somewhere.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” She didn’t want to discuss it, not with this near stranger. Her emotions were too on edge. “Tell me about the lake and its history.”
“Ah…that’s a tall order.” And a safe one. “All right, here goes. In the thirties, the local utility company built the lake to generate electricity, and since it’s a private concern, that’s why anyone can build right on the lake…”
Grant talked all the way to breakfast. She watched him shift gears at a crossroad, barely glancing to the right and left. Then he talked through breakfast, and she watched his expressive eyes as he told her of the struggles of the utility company to obtain all the land.
At the end of their meal, he slowly wound down. He’d eaten his eggs and sausage, while she nibbled on the last of her toast, having consumed her meal without a word.
“Fascinating,” Sunny said. It was a word she used when she didn’t know what else to say in a given conversation. But she really meant it. The history of the region was fascinating.
“Well, now that you’ve got your tummy full, what are you going to do?”
“Go shopping.”
His mouth drooped. “It figures. I never knew a woman who didn’t want to shop all the stores in an area new to her.”
“I meant for groceries. Where are the nearest grocery stores?”
His face brightened. “Really? Well, your best bet is about two-plus miles at the end of this road. You know, I could do with a bit of grocery shopping myself. Why don’t I take you now? It would be silly to go all the way back to Sunshine Acres only to pick up your car.”
She studied his face. Did he really have nothing better to do?
“What about your resort? Don’t you have riders…er, customers arriving?”
He glanced at his watch. “Not likely today. But it’s early yet. If we shop quickly, I won’t be that late getting back. Besides, I have someone there to take care of anyone that might happen by.”
“Oh, that’s nice. You have an assistant.”
“Yep. His name is Buzz.”
“All right, I suppose. I appreciate the help.”
The grocery store was a small one, but she chose several frozen entrées and lots of fresh vegetables and fruits. Grant settled for coffee and steaks.
On the drive home, Grant talked of his plans for Grant’s Retreat.
“I hope to expand to three trails a day in the summer. It would be great, if I can continue to trail the extended ride through the forest. And in autumn, I plan to host some evening rides. But I just got going before the end of last year…nobody but my family came for rides, practically. Old Nathan has been…was wonderful about waiting for payment while I’m getting started.”
“What do you mean? About my grandfather?”
“He owned the land. Didn’t you know?”
“No.” She watched the ribbon of road twist and turn while he talked.
“Yeah. And then there was a ten-acre partial in the valley that attaches to mine that he had an eye on. It made a solid bridge to mine. He called me as soon as it went on the market. I was able to snap it up.”
“I see.” Childish, unreasoning jealousy welled up inside her. Jealousy and envy over knowing and spending time with Nathan, really knowing her grandfather. How did this stranger rate so fine a treatment from someone who… Nathan was her grandfather? To spend days with him, to hear him talk, to know how he moved, how he went about his work, to know what he liked to eat?
Grant glanced at her, his lashes flickering her way. He spoke more softly. “I guess you do. Nathan…was a fine man. None better.”
They’d reached her place, Grant parking along the road. Sunny wrenched opened the door as soon as he halted the truck.
“Thanks for the breakfast and the grocery run,” she said formally. “I must go now. There’s a lot of papers to read and…other work to do.”
He unloaded her bags and set them by the door, glancing curiously at her face. “All right. I gotta go, too. I’ll be seeing you,” he said in parting.
But Sunny was already searching for her key.
She tried to shake off the feeling as she pushed through her door. It was ridiculous, feeling jealousy. That she hadn’t known her grandfather was no one’s fault—only a fact of life. It couldn’t be helped. She shouldn’t feel jealous…but she did.
She heard the disappearing motor, not paying much attention to Grant’s leaving.
After years of neglect, how could she not feel such…hurt? Her grandfather had been alive during all those years she had struggled, when she had needed family. And she hadn’t known of him.
Pain shafted all the way down to her toes.
Irrational anger raged suddenly, something she’d never experienced before in her life. How could her grandfather have been so close to Grant? Close to a stranger? As though those two were the ones related, and not her. Leaving her out.
Lord, I need Your calming spirit… I don’t know why I feel such rage…and hurt, too. I shouldn’t. It’s so selfish and irrational… I’m an adult now and should be beyond such feelings. Nathan couldn’t have known I even existed before a few months ago, and that’s no fault of his. I guess it’s Mom’s fault, if anyone’s.
With all of her might, she shoved the feelings down. In her mind, she quietly quoted Scripture to accomplish the task, something she’d done since her childhood.
“The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and I am helped…” came to her from Psalms.
Never mind. She had work to do.
The phone was ringing, and she didn’t think she’d connected the answering machine before she’d left. She hurriedly set the groceries down, then grabbed the phone.
Someone was calling about rates.
“I’m so sorry, I’ve just begun working here and I can quote you only what this card says….” She listened a moment. “No, Sunshine Acres will be closed until the first of the month due to…” she couldn’t say the words, due to the fact that her grandfather had died.
“A…family problem.” She listened again, hearing a desire to know when Sunshine Acres would be open again, asking someone to call. “I’ll do that.”
Sunny put away the groceries, and then sat at the office desk. She sorted and sifted through the weeks of mail, not knowing exactly what to do with the majority of it. Some she simply put aside to deal with later; confirmations and requests for reservations, she put into a separate stack.
She answered phone calls twice more—people who had heard of the resort’s change in ownership, wanting to know if Sunshine Acres would continue, whether their bookings were still all right. She assured them that if they had made reservations, they would have the cabins in the time they’d requested.
Not knowing where the reservations book was located, she glanced about. Then she went to the computer. It booted up without a problem. She looked at the programs, then went to the e-mail.
Which was a mistake. There were tons of messages.
For the next two hours, she sorted through them, eliminating most, keeping some. Finally, she rose and stretched. She had to get out of the cabin…
Time to visit the guest cabins and see what shape they were in, she thought.
Taking the keys off the hooks, she glanced at them. They were old keys and she hoped they worked.
She pulled her door closed and locked it. Then she strolled down the concrete boat launch to the level of the cabins. There should be a separate path to each cabin from the car park, she thought. But the car park was nothing but a dirt patch of ground, sitting adjacent to the road. There were a few concrete steps to the manager’s cabin, then, on the lower level were the six guest cabins.
All the cabins were alike except for color. None but one of them had basements; the rest were all on stone foundations. She stood in front of the first one, and took a deep breath. She placed the proper key in the front door and swung it wide.
One large room met her gaze; it was much like hers. It contained a strip of kitchen cabinets, old and dated, and a newer stove and refrigerator in white on the wall facing the road. The dining and living room were combined, with a large dining table and chairs taking pride of place in the center of the room. An iron daybed sat in the corner. A huge picture window looked out over the lake, giving a view that took her breath away. A bathroom and two small bedrooms filled with inexpensive furniture completed the cabin.
This was like a cabin of fifty years ago, she thought. Where were the furnace and hot-water tank?
She found those in the closet beside the door.
It seemed clean enough. Nothing had been touched since her grandfather’s passing. But where were the laundry facilities? Was everything sent out?
Each cabin was alike, she discovered, as she wandered from one to the other, the only difference being the furniture that occupied them. The last cabin, built on a higher slope of land, had a lower level, which proved to be a boat storage. It was empty, but she thought it looked as if it had been recently occupied.
Sighing, she closed and locked the last door. There was only one building left to inspect. The huge garage at edge of the road, past which the drive wandered to her cabin, the office.
She stood and gazed at the garage. She decided it could wait for another day because she was exhausted. Everything—her quick response when she’d heard from the lawyer, to making arrangements to take a leave of absence from work, to coming here—everything was catching up to her.
Slowly, she strolled back toward the office. There was enough paperwork to keep her busy for the next two days. What should she do with it all? A number of people held reservations on cabins for stated times and weeks of the summer. Either she had to keep those, or refund the money.
And she hadn’t yet found the ledger, nor any money, and the computer hadn’t revealed a thing. So far she hadn’t found a bank book, either. Oh, hang it. She didn’t even know the banks in this area—something else she’d have to investigate. Surely Nathan kept operating money somewhere.
It was a much bigger problem than she’d imagined.
Oh, Lord, I need help…

Chapter Three
She had to keep the resort open. She had no choice.
Coming to that conclusion sometime through the night, Sunny woke with a set determination. It was only early June; there was the whole summer before her and customers to contend with. Some who had already missed their dates to come wanted their money back, and she had no idea where Nathan kept his accounts.
Perhaps those customers would accept a later date, with added days free, she thought. It was worth a try.
She had to start with this weekend, no matter what. The first thing she had to do was call her supervisor. Would her boss hold her job for a whole year? It wasn’t likely.
She sighed in frustration. What did she know about running a resort? This was her first visit to the lake, for crying out loud!
Yet there were a dozen reservations…
Going through what papers were on the desk and counter, she counted at least a dozen reservations for throughout the summer months. And she’d fielded one phone request yesterday afternoon. The woman was quite disappointed when she found she wasn’t dealing with Nathan Merrill and that she couldn’t be accommodated.
Just yet. Sunny would call her back this morning, she had written down her number.
Sunny rotated her shoulders and stood up to do a few exercises. She bent, knees locked, to touch the floor. Then she swung from side to side, her arms extended.
How hard could it be to take care of six cabins? During her teen years, she’d worked as a nurses’ aide. She’d handled every job thrown at her—including emptying bedpans, changing sheets, mopping floors and making people comfortable. She could do the same here.
Throwing on her clothes, she brushed her hair and then braided it in one long braid. She hadn’t had time to get it cut before she left Minneapolis.
Thinking about the overall problems the resort had—challenges, her mom would’ve called them—she recalled her inspection yesterday.
All the cabins were clean and neat. Who had cleaned them and when? She hadn’t found evidence of anyone who worked for Nathan. No paperwork on payment of cleaning services. Or lawn services, for that matter. The uneven grounds had been neat and trimmed, too.
Well, obviously, someone was employed to do the work. But where would she find their employment records? And the money to pay now?
Until she found out who, and if that service could be continued, she’d have to manage by herself. And where were the lawn mower and other garden tools?
Grant would know.
Grant seemed to know a lot about her grandfather’s resort. She hated to depend on anyone…but he’d said she could ask him whatever she wanted.
Grant hadn’t been around since yesterday morning. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was seven-thirty. Seven-thirty at a resort wasn’t as early as in a busy nurse’s schedule, but maybe at the lake…
She let her hand lie on the old-fashioned phone, and pressed her lips together. Did she dare call him?
Punching in the numbers quickly, she waited while the phone rang. He answered on the fifth ring.
Or rather, someone did. A gravelly male voice answered. “Grant’s Retreat.”
“Oh, um, is Grant there?”
“You bet.”
“Well, may I speak with him?”
“Yep”
She heard a slight scuffling, then a breathless Grant came on. “Hello?”
“Grant?”
“Uh-huh…”
“Hi.” She let her breath of relief out silently. “This is Sunny Merrill.”
A pause, then he said, “Oh, hello. How are you?”
“Fine, just fine.” She hoped she didn’t sound too lame. Then remembering the slight muffled noise, she said, “Did I take you away from something?”
“Ah, no. Nothing important.” It sounded as though he was doing something as he replied, “What can I do for you?”
“Sorry to bother you, but, um, I was wondering…um, if you have time today, would you mind stopping by for a little while?” She wouldn’t blame him if he wanted nothing more to do with her. She’d handled his previous offer badly. “I need a few questions answered, and I’m finding I need—”
“Advice?”
“Answers.”
“What time?”
“It’s seven-thirty-five.”
“No…I mean what time do you want me to stop by?”
“Oh.” It was a good thing he couldn’t see the flush that stained her cheeks. Used to accounting for every minute of her day, she’d reacted with her usual quickness. “Sorry.” She took a deep breath. “Anytime. I mean, I’m here all day.”
“All right. I have a ride this morning to take care of. Almost time for it now, so they’ll be here any minute. But I’ll be through in a couple of hours. Could be at your place close to noon.”
“Thanks, Grant. Noon. I’ll…um, treat you to lunch. I appreciate it.”
By noon, she’d sorted through the last of the mail. She’d found stacks of stuff, some of it from years past, but nothing of importance. Nothing to tell her who she could get to look after her docks and grounds. She’d checked the computer, but found little that told her what she should be looking for. Hadn’t her granddad used it?
She’d found a few messages for Nathan, personal messages that she hadn’t the heart to read just yet. She didn’t erase them, but put them in a separate folder for future reading. Maybe she’d learn something of her grandfather’s personality from them. She supposed those people who had written had been given their own notification about her grandfather’s passing.
Would they be shocked to know of her?
She heard a vehicle pull into the parking lot. The office door opened, and Grant swung through. Was it noon already?
For a moment, she stared at him.
She watched his lean body as he came in. He didn’t look like a cowboy now. His tan shorts stopped above his knees and showed long, tanned, sturdy legs. His short-sleeved polo shirt, with a golf emblem on the pocket, displayed his muscular arms to perfection. His hair lay close to his head, dark with dampness. He looked as though he’d just stepped out of the shower.
After all the teasing she’d received back in Minneapolis from her nursing buddies about going to Missouri for a lake cowboy, she just wished she could point them to Grant now. Or take his picture to send back.
Cowboy indeed!
But he did look mighty fine, and she felt her heart ping in a dangerous way.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “The guests lingered about, wanting to talk and look around. But I can give you all the time you need now. Don’t have an afternoon ride today.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She blinked, and rose. What kind of guests? Single females? Females that appreciated his good looks?
What am I, nuts? Who has time for heart patters when I’m struggling to run this old place? It would only complicate things. Besides, I’m only going to be here a year. I can’t get involved with him when I’m planning to go back to Minneapolis…
“I, um, thank you for coming,” she said. “I’ve made sandwiches for lunch.”
“That’s fine.” He stood with his thumbs hooked in his front pockets. “I’m starved. I didn’t have much for breakfast this morning. Wanted to be ready for my riders.”
“I didn’t, either.” She walked through to the living room, leaving open the office door for him to follow. She shoved her personal thoughts into the back of her mind—I’m not into short-term romances—and attempted to think of business. “Can I fix you an iced tea?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I have it made.”
He took a kitchen chair as she busied herself on the short counter top. He was quiet, watching her fill matching glasses with ice cubes and tea.
Strangely, Grant felt a bit of alertness. Sunny Merrill didn’t like asking for help, he’d noticed. She was uncomfortable with it.
“How’s it been?” he asked by way of opening a subject she had a hard time approaching.
A difficult discussion, to be sure, but it was natural she’d want to know where everything was. Did that include bank accounts? What would she do if she found all of Nathan’s accounts? Take the money and run?
She’s not Heather, a little voice reminded him. She’s entitled to whatever Nathan left her. She could do as she pleased with it all.
He pulled his thoughts back to what she was saying.
“Crazy. I had two calls yesterday to confirm reservations, and one requesting one.” She handled the knife to cut the sandwiches with deft strokes, then put pickle chips on the side of the plates. “I handled them the best I could. But I’ve gone through all the papers and mail on the desk, on the counter, and stuff in the computer. I can’t find how Nathan kept track of anything.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, her braid swinging. “How can you run a resort or keep track of it all, without a log or files or something?”
“Don’t know. Nathan kept a lot of stuff in his head. He has—had—been doing this so long, he didn’t have to write down everything.”
“But that’s loony. How did he do his taxes?”
“Don’t know, but he had someone do them. I expect you’ll find someone in town to answer tax questions.”
She set a triple-decker sandwich in front of him. She put her own sandwich down, then stood by her chair, hesitating.
He glanced up into her eyes. Her gaze softly questioned him. “What?”
She let her tongue moisten the corner of her mouth. “I’d like to say grace before we eat.”
Shock kept him silent for a moment. His family all went to church, and were faithful to their beliefs, but they’d never said grace at meals. He doubted they knew how.
He certainly didn’t.
And he’d thought Sunny like Heather? Such a thing would have been very foreign to Heather’s thinking. Yet saying grace was an easy enough thing to fake—maybe Sunny wouldn’t really know how.
“Okay.” He let his doubt rest.
Sunny sat down slowly, and bowed her head. Her hands were out of sight in her lap. She appeared tense, as though she didn’t want to let another person—him—in on her personal thoughts. Or she didn’t know what to say.
He watched the flutter of her lashes as she sought to form words. Then her voice softened.
“Father, we thank you for this food and the beauty of the day. Thank you for giving me…thank you…for all this bounty and for the many challenges, as well. Help me to meet them successfully. Please bless Mark Larson. Amen.”
She raised her head, but didn’t look at him as she lifted her glass of tea.
“This sandwich is delicious.” He filled the silence with the first thing that came into his mind. She’d surprised him again. The bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich was exactly as he liked it.
But who was Mark Larson? What did he mean to her? Was he someone waiting in the wings? A boyfriend?
“Thank you. I…hope I didn’t…” she spoke quietly, gazing at her plate. Then her lashes swept up, and she looked directly into his eyes, her irises looking more green than brown. “I realize my faith can be awkward for some people. But in my own home, I can’t ignore the need to ask His grace. And for now, this is my home.”
He hadn’t thought of that. In his mind, it still belonged to Nathan. He’d rattled around the old place for years each summer, and got to know old Nathan like another grandparent. “No problem. I’ve been known to ask the Lord for a favor or two a few times.”
They munched for a bit.
“Now tell me what I can help you with,” Grant finally said, figuring he would open the subject.
“Employees.” She’d been waiting to ask. “I can’t find a record of any, and I’m sure Nathan didn’t handle everything by himself. Did he have someone to help him clean the cabins? And what about the laundry?”
“Hmm…he had several women over the years to do the cabins and the laundry after his wife died,” he told her. “Sylvia and Anne something or other. Sylvia did them a few years till she quit to move in with her daughter. Then there was Anne.”
“I haven’t a record of an Anne. I found an old memo about Sylvia, I think.”
“Well, Anne lives somewhere in town. Anne Newton. Somebody should know her.” He took another bite of his sandwich, getting mustard on the edge of his mouth.
Her gaze settled on the spot, making him aware of his manners. His tongue edged out to swipe it, the taste sharp, and her gaze shifted elsewhere.
He guessed he’d passed muster at some point. She didn’t seem as awkward with him now, or as uptight as she’d been yesterday.
“Okay. Where is the washer and dryer?”
“Oh, they’re in the back of the garage. I’ll show you after lunch.”
“Okay.” She was quiet again. Her hair looked golden in its tight braid, although tendrils of it had escaped and fluttered about her face. He had a sudden urge to brush it from her eyes, but kept his hands busy with his sandwich instead. He wondered what she did with her hair when she was nursing.
“Now, how about the lawns?”
“Nathan kept them up.”
“Right.” She nodded. “The place isn’t big enough for full-time care, but I noticed they’ve been tended to recently.”
“Ah, that was me.” He stopped chewing for a moment, and swallowed. “I thought I’d just keep them trimmed until you turned up. I mean, nobody knew for sure if you’d even want the place, and I had the time. Nathan doesn’t charge me to keep my boat here or anything—I mean, he didn’t—”
“Yes, I see what you mean.” Her gaze was speculative. “I have you to thank, then, huh? It’s very kind of you.”
“Wasn’t much,” he said in perfect cowboy lingo, then repeated, “I had the time. It’s a fair trade. But soon my business will pick up and I won’t have time for anything more.”
Another pause. She appeared to be thinking that over.
“Okay. So now I’ll have to find someone else to do the yard work.” She put down her sandwich to take up her tea glass. “How about the boat stuff?”
“Boat stuff?”
“Yes, the, um…you know.”
“Uh-huh. Well, Nathan took care of the docks, the boat lift, and everything else. He kept them pretty neat, too. I guess you can find everything you need—all the tools for keeping the place are in the garage.”
“Active old guy, wasn’t he?” she mumbled.
“Yep. Active as any ten men his age.”
“Mmm…I haven’t explored the garage yet.” She raised an eyebrow. “Couldn’t find the key to it. Do you know where it is and what’s there?”
“Oh, the truck, I expect,” he said, helping himself to sugar for his iced tea. He spoke without looking at her, and stirred his tea with vigor. “Ol’Winnie. And the lawn mower, wheelbarrow, hand tools. You know, the works.”
“A truck?” Her voice went up a notch as excitement entered her system. She slapped what was left of her sandwich down on her plate, and looked at him with sparkling eyes. “There’s a truck included? Really? What kind, what make?”
“Now hold on, it’s not the Hope Diamond, you know. It’s only a black truck. He always called her Ol’ Winnie. She’s about three years old, I guess.”
“Yes, but I can turn in my rental car now. I won’t have that cost and I won’t have to depend on—I was using my savings—oh, never mind that now. A truck! And only three years old?”
It was the most excitement she’d shown.
“If I had known it would create such unbridled excitement, I’d have told you about the truck the other day,” he said, letting his grin spread wide.
She glanced at him, flushed with embarrassment, and grinned back. Her mouth curved in such a way, it reminded him again of the way old Nathan’s mouth made the same curve.
That was it. She had her granddaddy’s smile.
Only on Sunny, it had a sweetness he hadn’t counted on seeing. It charmed him out of his shoes. In spite of himself, or memories of Heather.
“I’ve never driven a truck, but I can learn. Ol’ Winnie, huh? Well, how hard can it be? And it’s only three years old. My old car barely got me to work and back, and I prayed every day that it would hold out just a little longer.”
She finished her last bite, chewing thoughtfully, her eyes full of stars. Finally she turned to him. “Now what were we discussing? The yard?”
“Yeah, well, um, yard stuff… Nathan couldn’t use a rider mower, you know. Ground isn’t level enough. He walked the whole site, when his knee wasn’t hurting him. The part that is kept mowed anyway.”
“I guess I could manage that.” She was a bit doubtful. Her voice grew pensive. “He had a bad knee?”
“Yeah. He, um, he’d get shots once in a while for it. He saw a doc in town.”
“I see.” Her face took on a still, faraway look again. Her mouth, in repose, was sweetly bowed. “Well, I suppose Sunshine Acres doesn’t have much in the way of grass,” she said, pushing back her chair. “But I noticed there were an awful lot of rocks.”
“That’s right, the soil is far too rocky for a real lawn, I guess.” He chewed the last of his sandwich. “Gotta build up a layer of dirt if you want a lawn. Shirley had a few old flower beds when she was alive and could care for them.”
Sunny turned to stare at him, a vulnerable, lost look on her face that she couldn’t quite hide. “You knew Shirley, too?”
“Yeah, a bit. Not as well as I knew Nathan.”
“What…what was she like?”
“Oh, friendly…worked hard, but she liked to laugh. She had the kindest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. She loved being outside, and would stay out till dark most days. She loved talking with her customers. And she loved those flower beds.”
Sunny was silent a moment, staring at her glass. Then almost as if she didn’t want to ask, she did. “Did you ever meet my dad?”
“No.”
The single word seemed to send her into stone. He was sorry he had nothing to tell her, but Johnny hadn’t been in the picture when he’d come into Nathan and Shirley’s life. Nathan hadn’t talked of Johnny much. Shirley spoke of her son on occasion, but very little. His death seemed to cause her too much pain for long discussions.
Sunny shook herself, and smiled. “Will you have some ice cream?”

Chapter Four
The garage was huge, but the only vehicle in there was the shiny black truck, Ol’ Winnie. Sunny stood and stared a moment. Her granddad really liked Ol’Winnie; the care he’d given the truck showed.
Was this really hers? Just a gift from the blue?
Not really from the blue, but it was another gift from a grandfather she had never known. Imagine…a truck!
“Wahoo!” She let out a shout. A truck would solve her most pressing problems.
Grant let out a chuckle. He observed her carefully, but she didn’t care. Elated at finding a working vehicle, Sunny hoisted herself up and into the seat. She turned the key, starting the motor. It hummed like a top.
Her granddad must’ve enjoyed a good running engine, she mused. From habit she looked over her shoulder to make sure the drive was clear, then carefully backed Ol’ Winnie out of the garage. Ol’ Winnie, hmm… Secretly, she found her granddad’s whimsy amusing. Naming the truck—it was an aspect of the old man she hadn’t suspected.
She parked it, hitting the brakes a bit too hard, jerking her forward in her seat. Uh-oh. This truck would take some adjusting to.
“Wonderful! I’ll have to get a pillow to put at my back,” she crowed, looking at all the instruments on the panel in front of her. “And learn what all this means. Will you drive into town with me to return the rental car?”
She’d asked the question spontaneously, as though he had nothing better to do than help her. Glancing up at him from the seat, she held her breath.
“Sure,” he said and nodded. The corners of his mouth twitched, and his eyes sparkled. It made her want to smile in return, but all she could do was stare at the corners of his mouth. “But we’d better do it this afternoon because I have things to do tonight.”
“That’s great timing,” she caught her breath to say. “Then I can do some more grocery shopping.”
She patted the steering wheel, then with resolve, got out of the truck. The rest of the garage was filled with tools, laundry equipment and the discarded treasures of a lifetime.
Turning her attention to the garage, she inspected the washer and dryer, whistling under her breath. “Boy, these are old. I suspect I’ll have to replace them soon.”
He watched her wander to the push lawn mower. “I suppose this is still okay…” She pushed it a few inches in its place. “And there are plenty of garden tools. I won’t have to purchase anything new here.”
Against the back wall was the work counter with cabinets beneath. Parts of boat engines, old life jackets, and a collection of various old license plates lined the wall. Didn’t her grandfather ever throw them away?
She ran a hand down the counter. Her fingers felt the polished wood. A fine sand filled the corners. Her grandfather spent a lot of time out here, she thought.
She’d have a job to clean it up, but it would look tidy by another month, she vowed.
While she looked around, Grant lounged against the hood of the truck watching her. She tried not to notice, but she caught a quick, appreciative gleam when she turned to him.
Over the years, she’d dated a few men who’d openly admired her, yet she hadn’t fallen in love with any of them. She hadn’t had time, what with school, work and her church involvement.
Yet she didn’t mistake Grant’s gaze. She hardly knew what to do with it. Before now, her goal had been to grow up, study hard and make something of herself before getting involved with anyone. That drive had been constant.
The Larsons’ influence had solidified her thoughts, too. Boyfriends could come and go if she wanted them, but the Larsons had encouraged her hard-working habits. They’d said that steady work, a solid career in something she was good at and her church would ground her.
And there would be no hopping from place to place, city to city for her, Sunny privately thought, not like the kind of life she’d led with her mother.
Her co-workers knew enough to keep their relationships just friendly. She’d keep this friendly, too, she decided.
She cleared her throat, then asked tentatively, “All right…can you go into town now?”
“I suppose so. Let me make a phone call, and I’ll be set.”
“Okay, you can use the phone in the office.”
“I’ll use my cell phone.”
Of course. Most people had cell phones these days. Only Sunny, always saving money, did not. She really didn’t need one, she thought, being so busy with work and with only a few friends from her work or church she could call on any available phone. Only her foster family mattered to her, and she called them most evenings from her apartment, assuring herself they were fine, that little Lori was fine.
That reminded her. She’d have to close her apartment. Could her foster father Mark do it for her? She owed him and Jessica so much already that she hated to ask him. Neither Mark nor Jessica were well these days, and they needed the money they got from caring for foster children. But she had no one else to ask and she couldn’t leave the resort to take care of the matter herself.
She couldn’t go on paying the expense of an empty apartment for a whole year, either. She’d have to trust someone to close it, like Mark and Jessica.
Grant used his phone while Sunny collected the paperwork on her rented car. It took all of five minutes.
“All set?” he asked from the doorway.
“You bet!”
Sunny drove the twenty minutes into town, with Grant following, and then the five minutes down the side street to the car rental at the side of the new-car lot. Grant turned off his motor and waited while she turned in the car. When she came out of the car-rental office, practically skipping, it made him chuckle.
“I never saw anyone so happy about a truck. Except your granddad, maybe, when he got it new.”
“Well, a truck! I mean, I’ve never owned such a big vehicle before,” she explained. “It’ll take a lot of abuse, won’t it? And I suspect it’ll make it over these rougher roads just fine. A lot easier than that car did. And it will be big enough to haul washing if I have to take it into town. I’m not too sure about those machines.”
He laughed. “I suspect old Nathan did that on more than one occasion. I’d see him sometimes, hauling his laundry around. Said he’d take it to town where he could drop it off at the Lite Laundromat, and he’d pay to have it done. Saved him some time and effort, I guess, especially if the housekeepers didn’t show up. These last years he’s been lonely without Shirley, and he…” he paused to run his tongue over his lips “…he sometimes liked the entertainment in town.”
“Did he?” She grew quieter.
“Yeah….”
They were almost at the resort when he made a suggestion. “Sunny, I know you want to reopen the resort as soon as possible—”
“Yep, I have some people coming in tomorrow. It seemed foolish not to open it.”
“Yeah, well, that’s good. It’s only good business sense. With reservations to honor and all, it shouldn’t be too hard to fill it up.”
He slowed his car, pulling into her drive, then stopped. “But why don’t you give yourself some time about what to think…I mean, about your granddad? Whatever you do, don’t make any quick judgments about your granddad, will you?”
He turned to look at her, his eyes serious. “He was a fine man. People liked him a lot.”
Feeling warmed suddenly, she was grateful for Grant’s friendship. She gazed at him, experiencing an emotion she couldn’t name…but it was a welcome one.
“I…suppose they did. Thanks for that, Grant,” she said softly. “And I wouldn’t dream of making any quick judgments. Thanks for the ride into town, too. I owe you one.”
His hand on the wheel, he spread it wide. “You don’t owe me a thing, Sunny. But I’d welcome another invitation to lunch anytime.”
“Sure.” she said lightly, getting out of the car. “I’ll let you know.”
Grant drove on down the road. Sunny let herself into the small cabin, thinking about how sweet Grant had been. Sweet men made her a little suspicious—she didn’t know what to think about Grant.
She refused to give her feelings about him any room to blossom. That would interfere with business.
She immediately turned on the air-conditioning unit. Old though it was, it was the only thing she had to cool off her room. She stood near it, raising her shirt slightly to get the cool air against her bare skin.
Heavenly…
The phone rang, and she dodged back into the office to answer it. It was a customer from Kansas City.
“Yes, that weekend is open for cabin number four. Hmm…what color is the cabin? Um, I think it’s the, um, green one. In the middle. All right, from Friday night to Sunday. And the name?”
She was feeling quite comfortable with this. Her nurse’s training had prepared her to deal with all kinds of people, and this was little different. She wondered what the nursing situation was down here, in this resort town. What was the small hospital like? Was it short of staff, as so many were?
By the time she’d taken a couple of more calls, and answered the ones from her answering machine, the sun was low. She left the cabin and wandered down the concrete path to the covered wooden dock.
She noted the remnants of her grandmother’s flower beds that Grant had mentioned. She imagined them in full splendor. She’d sometimes helped Jessica plant flowers. She should do something about them. They would make the place much more colorful, make the place stand out a bit, make it more attractive.
Grant’s boat lolled in the water, using one slip. It was a small runabout. She looked at it, noticing its wear, then moved on to inspect the other, now-empty boat slips.
She folded herself down on the dock’s end, leaned back on her hands, and stared out. The day was losing its heat, and she lifted her face. A few boaters were out on the main body of water, which she could see. But her cove was quiet and serene. What would it be like with every cabin taken? And every boat slip filled?
The sun hovered above the water with its last blasting rays of the day. She watched it sink behind the hills, feeling peaceful. She sighed and strolled back to her cabin in the fading light.
She wouldn’t admit to feeling lonely. Not even a tiny bit.
Going inside, she settled down in the office chair to make a very important long-distance phone call.
Dialing the Larsons, she leaned back and waited for an answer. They were as close to family as anyone she had. “Hi, Jessica, it’s me, Sunny.”
“Hi, honey. I’m so glad you’ve called. I’ve been a little worried about you.” Her foster mother was a small woman with thin brown hair, but her heart was as big as all outdoors. “How’s the heiress? Everything as good as you hoped?”
“Both better and worse…no, that isn’t right. It’s just different than I expected, that’s all. And more work than I’d thought, but that’s good. I mean, it’s keeping me busy. But I’ve learned I really have to remain on the property and run the resort for a full year. There’s no way to get around that.”
“No kidding? So what are you going to do about your apartment? And your job?”
“I can’t afford to keep them. I’ll have to give them up. Can you and Mark go over and close the apartment for me? I’ll write a letter to the manager, but I need someone to take care of what’s there. Will you send me some of my clothes and put everything else into storage?”
“Sure, we’ll do it, Sunny. You can count on us. You don’t have all that much furniture anyway. Do you want me to ship you anything?”
“Only a few things. I’ll send you a list. Tell me, how is Lori?” Lori was the five-year-old mixed-race child she’d taken a shine to, the Larsons only current foster child. The child was adorable, with deep dimples and a smile that charmed everyone.
“Lori is just fine. She’s asked about you several times. Wondered why you haven’t been by lately.”
Sunny chatted for twenty minutes, arranging the pack-up and storage of her things, then, mindful of the cost, she said goodbye and hung up. She sat a moment, praying for her foster family. Mark’s job loss a few months back and his inability to find work again worried her. And Jessica’s asthma made it hard for her to work full-time. How were they going to keep paying their bills?
Could they keep going until she sold the resort?
Her thoughts were unclear about selling. Surprisingly, she felt somewhat glad of the stipulation of spending a year here. She wanted to hold on for a while.
She rose, noting it was ten o’clock. She let her concerns go. Like Scarlett O’Hara, she’d have plenty of time to think of them tomorrow.
She enumerated what she’d have to do the next day. Calling her apartment manager in Minneapolis was first, to let him know the Larsons were coming to pack and ship her few things. Then check the cabins one last time before guests arrived. And so on…
She locked the cabin door and turned off her air conditioner, but she opened the bedroom window to let in air and kept her overhead fan going. The window air conditioner wasn’t giving her much help. Getting into bed, she sorted through the books at her bedside. Choosing one, she started reading a Western.
She’d never before had time for fiction…
Long after she’d turned out the light, she awoke holding her breath, shooting straight up in bed. She had no idea what time it was. What was that sound? Footsteps? It couldn’t be, the resort was empty…
Wasn’t it?
Listening for a long moment, she heard nothing more than the whispering trees and faint lapping of water. She must be dreaming.
Breathing again, she began to relax.
But the sound of the lake lapping against the shore sounded louder than it should. As though something—a boat possibly—had disturbed the water.
The sound receded. Her eyelids drooped. She just wasn’t used to the lake sounds yet, that was all, she reasoned. She’d become used to it…as of tomorrow, the resort would reopen and she expected three families and a couple of singles to occupy the cabins. There would be people here.
The next day, she was startled at how busy she was kept. Boy, were there people! Starting at ten, when the first family arrived, she heard the shouts and calls of children. She answered a dozen questions. She found herself busy in six different directions. When she saw two boats launched and occupying the slips, she unexpectedly felt relieved.
She was in business.
Then, when she had a quiet moment about seven that evening, she felt flat-out tired. But it was a good tired, a satisfying exhaustion.
Obviously, running a resort was no piece of cake.
On Sunday morning, she turned the television on to a TV preacher and listened to his sermon, but she found the preacher unsatisfying. Then her morning was interrupted by two phone calls, and someone wanting to find somewhere to eat Sunday dinner. She tried to accommodate them with brochures, then had to admit she hadn’t a clue about what those restaurants really were like.
Sunday night when the first family left, she immediately cleaned the cabin. She changed sheets, scrubbed the bathroom and kitchen, vacuumed the place down. There would be new occupants on Monday, and she wanted everything to be clean.
She tried washing the sheets in the washer, but found the machine not up to the job. For the first time, she wondered what the health department would dictate. Were there any health-related regulations at all? She’d have to find out. Meantime, she’d have to take the sheets into town.
Another trip to town. What would she do with the customers when she went to town? What if someone wanted something while she was gone?
She’d have to take that chance.
By Tuesday, she wondered what Grant was doing. She’d seen his car drive past on Sunday evening. His employee was in the passenger seat, but all she saw of him was a gray head. He’d had his head turned. Where were they heading? She hadn’t spoken with Grant since he’d taken her to turn in her rental car.
Thursday morning, she grabbed the phone as it rang on her way to clean another cabin. Thankfully, she heard Mark’s and Jessica’s voices.
“Hello, you two,” her spirits lifted. “How are you? I’m so glad to hear a couple of familiar voices! I’ve been so busy, I can hardly even think.”
“Are you busy? I wanted to tell you, we talked to your apartment manager today and closed the apartment. By the end of the month, you’ll be free of it.”
“Oh, thanks a million, Jessica. I owe you and Mark…”
She recalled saying that to Grant. Someone else she owed a favor.
Grant came into the office before she hung up. “Hi.” She waggled her fingers at him, hiding her quickly beating heart. “Um, Jessica, I gotta go. Thanks a million for taking care of that matter. I’ll talk to you soon.”
She hung up. She missed Mark and Jessica and little Lori more than she could say. Perhaps they could come for a visit soon.
“Hi, Grant. What can I do for you?”
“Nothing important. I was just taking the boat out for a ride and wondered if you’d like to come along?”
She had yet to be out on the lake, and the idea excited her. “You bet! I’d love to go. But I’m worried about leaving the office empty before nine o’clock in case one of my customers needs something.”
“You don’t have to baby-sit them, Sunny.” He said it as if that was a dumb idea—and, she had to admit, it was a little wacky. “If they need anything, you’ll be back later. Put a sign in the window.”
Still, she hesitated.
“You think that would be okay? I have to go into town tomorrow and I’ve been wondering how to do it. You, know, run some errands, find a laundry and things. I—I haven’t left this place since Thursday of last week.”
It seemed like an eon ago.
“Sure, it’s okay, Sunny. The customers don’t expect you to be at their beck and call every minute of the day. You’re not a prisoner, you have a life. Now let’s go. The sunset is wasting.”
“All right.” That made sense. She grabbed a pair of sunglasses, a straw hat she’d found in the closet that she suspected had been her granddad’s, and her keys. A tumble of things came down from the closet shelf, but she glanced briefly at it, then decided it could wait until she returned. She shoved it to the back of the closet.
A boat ride was just what she needed.
She’d never been on a boat before. She stepped in carefully, Grant’s hand at her elbow.
Though there were people down at the boat dock, they merely waved to her. No one questioned her. After she donned the life jacket he pointed to, he started the engine and she relaxed against the back seat.
Grant steered the boat quietly out to the main channel, then pushed the speed higher. The wind whipped her hair behind her, cooling her warm cheeks and drying the perspiration against her neck. She placed a hand to hold her hat on, feeling the wind against her face.
What bliss!
Grant pointed out some of the more beautiful homes and buildings built into the hills and cliffs.
Staring at them, she noted that these homes ranged from luxurious to humble, and all the way between. Sunny felt stunned. Before this, she had seen little of her community. Did people really live this kind of life?
“Grant, do you live here all year?”
He appeared strong at the helm, sitting with relaxed purpose, the late sunshine shining on his face. He turned from staring ahead of him. “I do now. I didn’t before starting the stable. But I’ve been here two years.”
“In the winter, too?”
“Sure. That’s my quiet time. The lake is much more peaceful then.”
“I imagine so, but…don’t you get lonely?”
“Not a bit. There’s things to do in winter. Catching-up things. Things you put off from summer. Even a few customers. You’ll see.”
Of course…yes…she hadn’t thought of anything past getting the resort open, but she could imagine things she could do in winter. The stipulation said she’d have to live and work here a year. She understood that demand better now. What would it be like then, with no customers?
Well, like other things, she pushed those worries aside, trusting God to take care of them. Sighing, she decided she’d think about that tomorrow, too. At the moment all she wanted was to enjoy this wonderful, unexpected gift of a boat ride.
And the oh-so-pleasant company of Grant.

Chapter Five
Toward early morning, the clouds darkened and moved across the lake, shutting out any starlight. Lightning slashed low, disappearing into the lake, followed by a horrendous boom of thunder.
Sunny jerked straight up in bed, her heart pounding with the shock, just as another lightning flash lit the room for a split second. Then another, and a whooshing crash a short distance away.
What was that? A tree down?
In the black of blackest night, she knew there was no electricity.
Sliding from the bed, Sunny felt her way into the living room, and then toward the kitchen cabinets. She’d noticed a couple of oil lamps there. She fumbled around, knocking her shin, but finally found the lamps. Quickly, she lifted them down.
Now for matches. Were they in the drawer next to the fridge?
She felt a flashlight, and breathed a sigh of relief. She flicked the waning light on, decided it needed new batteries, and began groping in the drawer. There were some in the back, she thought.
Another lightning bolt helped her find the batteries. Deciding she could do with the lamps first, she found the matches. With shaking hands, she lit three matches, muttering “C’mon, c’mon…” before getting the wick to catch.
“Thank You, Lord,” she muttered as the wick flamed high.
As quickly as she could, she replaced the batteries in the flashlight, and then hurried to the windows. Common sense told her to stand away from them with lightning out there, but curiosity as high as the sky sent her there to watch, just the same.
She could see nothing through the blackness.
Lightning illuminated the howling wind bending the trees low over the deck and rain lashing the wood. The chairs tumbled over.
I have to do something, Lord. I must.
She went into the bedroom and grabbed a pair of jeans. Setting the flashlight on the floor, she slipped into them, then grabbed a shirt from the closet. She dressed rapidly.
Please God, take care of my customers…and my docks. Don’t let anything happen to the docks and boats. Don’t let anything important be down.
A wave of fear washed over her. Were the folks in the cabins all right? Were they safe? She could see no lights.
Dummy! Of course not. If her electricity was out, so was theirs. Was Grant’s, she wondered? Were they on the same line?
What was happening down at the docks? Stepping tentatively out on the dark deck, she flicked on the flashlight, walking carefully down the steps. Her sneakers slipped on the rain-slicked stairs. The wind whipped her hair into a tangle and lashed her face, but she paid no mind. The dark blunted her light, making it difficult to see.
The place still held strange aspects, and she hated the need to check on everything. At home, tight in her little apartment, she’d have stayed under the covers. But Sunshine Acres was her responsibility whether she liked it or not.
She walked the short distance to the concrete stairs. Someone stood in the doorways at cabins three and four. She could see movement, something white against the dark.
There was no use in shouting. Whoever it was couldn’t hear her over the wind. But it comforted her somehow, the presence of other people.
Thunder rolled down the lake, shuddering off the hills, bouncing down the water. The lightning was further off now, not so close.
The rain steadied with the dying wind. It smelled fresh, the way rain should. She hurried to the first cabin, which was unoccupied tonight, then to the second. “Are you folks all right?”
“Yeah, we’re fine,” answered the middle-aged man who had checked in two days ago. “That’s quite a storm, though.”
“Sure is. Okay…”
She hurried to the next cabin, finding that the folks had disappeared behind a closed door. All the other cabins were closed, as well.
The rain was lessening as the storm center rolled down the lake, but it didn’t matter. She was soaked. She climbed the concrete stairs once more, shivering with cold, her fear receding, then turned to gaze at the docks below her just before she returned to her cabin.
Someone moved at the edge. Who was there? Something…or someone…
Her heart slammed into her chest in jerky beats, and she stood absolutely still, watching.
Movement down at the docks? Someone was watching her! She caught just a glimpse before the person was swallowed under the dock roof…
Who was there? Grant? Or a stranger? Surely Grant wouldn’t be out in this storm….
She was out in it.
She didn’t want to go down there, yet she was drawn down the stairs toward the docks. Standing on the edge of the last step, she listened.
She heard nothing beyond the storm.
But she had seen something. Was her imagination running away with her? She set her mouth and walked out onto the dock, all the way to the end. The rain couldn’t get to her here. She inspected each of the four boats, one huge one, and the rest of various smaller sizes.

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