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