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shrugged. “His wife left him a few months after they married. Maybe she was expecting when she left.”
    I nodded and told them about my meeting with Laura and Christiana the day before.
    “You don’t say.” Miss Jane’s eyes were wide. “A granddaughter, too.”
    “Clyde never mentioned it, that I know of.” Miss Georgina’s silver curls bounced when she shook her head.
    “He probably didn’t know.” Miss Jane’s eyes glinted. “If I’d been in his wife’s place, I sure wouldn’t have told him. In fact, I don’t know how he ever got anyone to marry him in the first place.”
    It was obvious the two friends had exhausted their supply of information on the subject, so I stood. “Thank you so much. And I hope you both win at bingo.”
    Georgina giggled. “We’re playing for a pie from Samson’s Bakery. Maybe we can furnish tonight’s dessert.”
    I hoped not. I’d much rather have Mabel’s freshly made cobbler than the day-old pastries Mr. Samson donated to the senior center.
    I stepped into the kitchen and was met by a beaming Mabel.
    “Bobby will bring Sarah next weekend. He’s going to stay until Monday to get her enrolled in school. Thank you so much, Victoria, for making a way for me to keep my job here.”
    “We couldn’t do without you, Mabel. And I’m sure it’ll be nice to have a child around.” I wasn’t exactly sure, but I was sure praying the little girl wouldn’t be anything like the Hansen kids across the street. Even Buster shied away from them since they’d thrown over-ripe tomatoes from their father’s garden at him.
    I went to my suite on the third floor. I’d remodeled Grandfather’s library and Grandmother’s sitting room last year, and for the first few months, every time I walked through the door I seemed to sense their presence. But gradually the rooms had become my own. A haven for rest and to gather my thoughts together.
    I got cleaning supplies from the small utility closet at the end of the hall and polished all the furniture in both rooms, then cleaned my bathroom. The carpet had been freshly vacuumed the day before. The outside windows could use a cleaning, but they’d have to wait until a warmer day. Maybe I’d call someone and have them done. Finances were getting better, and the two remodeled bedrooms on this floor were ready for occupancy. I’d had to turn down boarders several times in the last few months. There were several on the waiting list, so I decided to make some calls and let them know I had rooms available. The first two I called were no longer interested, but the third almost screeched in my ear with excitement. She promised to call back and let me know when she could come look at the room.
    The fourth was an elderly man who was tired of living with his daughter.
    “I love those grandkids, but sometimes they drive me crazy.” A bellowing laugh followed to show he was joking. He said he’d be in Cedar Chapel the following week to meet me and view the room.
    Seating myself in Grandma’s rocker by the front window, I browsed through the mail I’d ignored the day before.
    A letter from my mother lay on top where I’d deposited it. I ripped it open, and a photo fell out. Mom and Dad in beach clothes with wide-brimmed hats atop their heads. Mom was grinning, and Dad looked pained. As though he’d rather be somewhere else. Which I had no doubt he did.
    I pulled out the single sheet of paper and read the two paragraphs. Nothing new. Same old, same old.
    Mom loved the Bahamas and planned to stay for a while, but Dad was leaving for Rome on a business trip. Familiar loneliness clutched at my stomach, and I swiped a hand across my eyes. I would not cry. After all these years you’d think I wouldn’t care anymore. And I’d had Grandma and Grandpa. And the lodge. I’d always loved the lodge. Once a real lodge, it had been the Storm family’s private home for many years. I’d spent all my summers and most holidays here when I was growing up.