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