“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.