Naupaka: A Love Story

By Linda Lee

In Naupaka Emmalee Gray Denning is trying to cope with the death of her husband. Burying herself in work, her children and the Lodge. She believes she is finding peace in her new existence until a documentary showcasing her as an artist appears on a local television station bringing with it danger. She chooses to flee life as she knows it, in order to protect her children and family. Can she find solace and safety in the new life she is trying to make for herself?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662441943

Linda Lee

Linda Lee is a graduate of United Theological Seminary (M. Div. and D. Min.). She made history in 2000 when she was the first African American woman to be elected bishop in the North Central Jurisdiction. Lee was elected on July 14, 2000, in Middleton, Wisconsin, and was assigned to her home area of Michigan, an unusual action that had not occurred for 40 years and required special action of the jurisdictional conference. After one quadrennium of service in Michigan, Lee was assigned to the Wisconsin Area in 2004. Lee served as chair of the Black Clergywomen of the United Methodist Church (1996-98) and has been a member of a number of annual conference committees, including the Board of Ordained Ministry. She has served as a speaker for numerous schools, retreats and conferences and is a two-time delegate to General Conference. She is a contributing writer in several publications and has served as an adjunct professor of spirituality at Ecumenical Theological Seminary

Book preview

Chapter 1

Emmalee Sophie Gray Denning stood, leaning her head on the tempered glass, feeling the smoothness and warmth. Seeing her reflection looking back, the tears running down her cheeks matched the raindrops running off the palm fronds on the other side of the glass, hidden by the night’s darkness.

Sliding her hand down to the leaver, pressing to release the lock, pushing the door open, Emmalee stepped onto the lanai. She was greeted by the sound of the waves hitting the lava rocks below. Taking deep breaths of the damp air, it wasn’t the fresh, clean, crisp mountain air scented with pine; it was a deeper, richer scent of earth, moss, and ocean mingled with that of the flowers around the house: Home.

Three years had passed. Sitting in one of the deck chairs, she rested her feet on the chair across from her. Leaning her head back, she listened to the sound of the rain on the lanai cover and the waves below. It began its magic soothing and relaxing her anxiety, calming her nerves. Closing her eyes, she let her mind wander back to a happy time, a time she knew love and had dreams.

* * *

Emmalee jerked awake. She hadn’t realized she had fallen asleep and looked over to where the moon had been, finding it no longer peeking through the palm, but high above. Standing, she stretched; seemed the rain had stopped as well. She went to the sliding glass door. With her hand on the door handle, she turned and looked out over the cliff into the sky thinking, Eric, are you here with me? Did you come like you promised? I need your strength. Why did you have to leave me? She pushed the door closed behind her.

She retrieved the bag she’d left in the entry, going into the master bedroom. Switching the light on, the first thing Emmalee saw was the beautiful Hawaiian quilt on the bed. It was the orchid, made in deep purple on a white background. It was stunningly beautiful, even without looking she knew the workmanship would be flawless. This quilt was not something she and Eric had chosen; this could have only come from one person, Auntie Ruth Akuhi. Picking her purse off the dresser where she had set it coming into the room, she checked the time before she pushed a few numbers on her phone then heard the sweet voice answer, Aloha.

Auntie, you are a sneaky one, aren’t you?

What you say? I know nothing, came the musical reply.

You know very well what I am talking about, and don’t try to say otherwise. You have been in my house.

Yes. Kuuipo, we came, clean up a little, make bed, put food in fridge. What you so upset for?

Sweetheart yourself, you know! You made and put that gorgeous quilt on my bed. Why did you do that? Do you know how much effort and time it takes to make a masterpiece like that?

Laughter flowed at her from the other end of the phone. Kuuipo, don’t get so worked up. I put lots of love in those stitches, give you sweet dreams.

It is too big a gift, Auntie. You sure one of your girls shouldn’t get it?

You are one of my girls. You bedda come over soon—we talk story, Ruth scolded her.

I will in a day or two.

I’ll be home. No place go. Welcome home, Kuuipo.

Thank you so much. It will be treasured. Aloha, Auntie.

Emmalee made one more call to Moose Lake Lodge, letting her children know she was at the house safe and sound. After disconnecting, she unpacked her bag, took a hot shower, and folded Auntie Ruth’s quilt, placing it on the bench at the foot of the bed.

She lay for a long time thinking of the past weeks and how it was she found herself now on the island of Hawaii.

She had just finished a leisurely breakfast, basking in the late morning sunshine coming through the window of the dining room of Moose Lake Lodge. Em, do you need anything else? Samantha Garrett, chef extraordinaire and also adopted daughter, called from the kitchen.

No, Sammie, I’m fine. Moments later, the beautiful raven-haired woman joined her, slipping into the chair across from her. Samantha looked more like her mother with every passing year.

Looks like another beautiful day. Emmalee turned her eyes back to the view. Snow blanketed the meadow in front of the Lodge in a brilliant white; in the valley below was a lake hidden under the snow. It won’t be long before the snow will be gone and so will our peaceful, quiet lifestyle.

Samantha smiled at the woman who had raised her. I don’t know which you like most—the quiet winters or the hectic spring and summer.

Looking back at Samantha with a smile, Emmalee told her, I love both the same. The peace of the winters with its quiet beauty gives me the opportunity to work without interruptions. The spring and summers give me the opportunity to study our guests for future paintings. I like learning about them, what they do, where they come from, and getting reacquainted with our returning guests.

A tall handsome young man joined them; his resemblance to Samantha made it apparent they were brother and sister. Lance, what are your plans for today? Emmalee asked him.

I need to call some of our suppliers, confirming they’ll be able to fulfill the orders we have made for the summer. I’ll be inventorying linens. Looking at his sister, he asked, Sam can you inventory the kitchen supplies and table settings?

Sure, I’ve already started on the supplies and making a list of what we need to replenish in the pantry, Samantha told them. I have a few new recipes I have been playing with for the new season, wonderful new marinades to use on barbecue Sundays.

You need to stop trying to top last season every year, Sam, you’re bringing in so many new diners we might not have enough room for our guests, Lance teased her.

Our restaurant is getting quiet a name for its self, just like in the early days, Emmalee told them with pride in her voice, I have no doubt Moose Lake Lodge will prosper for generations to come. You two have done amazing things in the past two years. I am so proud of you both, Eric would be too.

Turning her head back toward the view, her mind wandered back to her life with Eric. He had been good to her, better than she probably deserved. He had suffered two life-changing events, the first when a drunk driver had crossed the center line, hitting the car he and his father had been in. His father hadn’t survived, leaving Eric fighting to walk again.

That’s when she met him, doing a project for the yearbook, he’d still been in the hospital then. At the time, she’d had Clay—or thought she had.

Clay…how long had it been since she’d thought about him? She thought of him still that Christmas; she remembered the good times and the tragic time. She didn’t dwell on him anymore, wondering what life would have been like to live on the 5M ranch in Texas. Eric had known there would always be the ghost of Clay in their lives, but he chose to marry and love her with his whole heart.

Eric, she thought, I tried to be a good wife, the best I knew how to be. I hope it was enough. The love she felt for Eric was different than the giddy, innocent first love she’d had for Clay; it was a deep love born of friendship and understanding. They had become even closer when he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time while serving in the Marines. He wasn’t supposed to be there, but if he hadn’t been, the young nurse he had saved would not be sending a small gift to them every year in gratitude. He’d given his legs in exchange for her life and the lives of her children. Eric assured her on her visit to the lodge years later it had been a good exchange. Telling her as she could see he hadn’t needed legs to have a good life.

They had renovated Moose Lake Lodge alongside Charlie and Frank Grandger. It had been a labor of love for all of them. The lodge was their lives, their joy; the guests gave them people to care for, students to love who had worked in the lodge returning year after year for visits and the reunions the lodge had for them at the end of each season.

It had been during the renovation they had been given the blessing of adding Lance and Samantha Garrett to the family. Emmalee’s childhood friend had died, leaving her children in their care. Kathy had become a judge just as she said she would. The two children had settled into lodge life easily; they were kept too busy with the renovations to think much about what they didn’t have anymore.

Although they were only eight and twelve, Eric, Emmalee, the contractors, and their crew had found small jobs they could do. Sammie, as she was nicknamed, was given the job of picking all the lost nails with a magnet someone had given her; she loved that magnet.

Lance had been in charge of gathering up the wood pieces and stacking them by the fireplace to be used later for s’mores and any other small job he could learn to do. They each had their own broom and dust pan for sweeping up saw dust and debris.

Lance had grown attached to Eric and Frank, following them like a shadow, helping where he could, learning everything he saw. He learned to fix anything in the lodge and went to school to learn how to manage a hotel. Now he did.

Samantha followed Emmalee but attached herself to Charlie, who had been the chef of the lodge for forty years. Charlie, the gruff, possessive chef who had trouble letting anyone in his kitchen, became putty in the hand of the small raven-haired, blue-eyed angel. He had her cooking in months; now she was the chef. She had gone as far as New York to study cooking but came home, saying they didn’t teach her anything Charlie hadn’t already taught her.

The lodge prospered over the years, becoming a favorite place to vacation for people from all walks of life from all over the world. It hosted corporate heads, governors, senators, congressmen, doctors. Princes and everyday people all congregating together.

It also became a safe haven for many, a place to get away from life for a while, a place to hide from evil, a place to escape danger. It was a place to heal from pain.

Moose Lake Lodge was only open in the spring, summer, and into early fall; once the snows started to come, it was closed until spring came again. It gave the family time to recuperate, the students who were the primary work force time to get on with their studies. Most of the students lived in the lodge while they were working, and some stayed all year, using the Ski-Doos to get to the road then on to the colleges they attended.

Tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she remembered two years ago. It had been the end of the season. Lance had been running the Lodge beside Eric after receiving his degree in hotel management. That was the year Eric told Emmalee it was time to move to the house they had built on a cliff over the Pacific on the island of Hawaii. Letting the next generation take over Moose Lake Lodge.

He had gone to Denver to pick up their tickets and say goodbye to some of his patients at the Vet center then out to Hog Haven to see Hank and the vets who hung out there. It was on the way back in the limo he had been going to surprise her with for the trip to the airport just like their honeymoon.

They’d come to the fork in the road where the lodge road and the highway separated. A semi-truck hit a patch of black ice, causing it to slide over the limo. Eric had been trapped in the car for two hours before he had been freed and rushed to the hospital in Fort Collins, Colorado, where Emmalee sat by his side until he joined the Savior and the Father.

Emmalee had stayed to help Lance and Samantha recover from their loss and heal her own heart and soul. As time passed, she settled into a new routine where she worked in her studio producing what her agent Ginny at Sophie’s Gallery in Denver told her was her best work to date. She would then do what she could around the lodge; mostly she visited with the guests took reservations and calls of inquiry.

Lance’s voice brought her back from her memories. Looks like a mail truck, must be a special delivery or certified letter, Lance said. I’ll go see what they need—it might be a wrong address.

As he stood to go, Samantha told him, Take ’em a cup of hot coffee. It’s cold out there.

Lance gave her a thumbs-up as he detoured to the kitchen, collecting an oversized insulated cup of coffee. He reached the huge double glass doors just as the jeep pulled up to the deck. Lance watched as he took a large box from the back of the jeep then made his way toward the door Lance held for him. Got a certified letter for Lance or Samantha Garrett care of Moose Lake Lodge.

Thanks, Martin. Pretty cold out there today. Lance signed the tablet the mailman held out for him. Brought you an extra-large coffee—might help to keep you warm.

The mailman sat the box on one of the benches by the door then reached for the cup. Thanks, Lance. Taking a sip from the cup, he asked, When did you folks get connections to Paula White?

Paula White? Sorry, I don’t know who Paula White is, Lance told him in confusion.

"That’s who the letter and box are from. Paula White, you know that TV show Mornings with Paula White."

Lance had a feeling he should know what the mailman was talking about but didn’t. "Sorry, man, I don’t think I know anything about Mornings with Paula White."

All this is addressed to Emmalee care of Moose Lake Lodge. She seems to know about you. Her show is broadcast out of Denver. She does stories about people all over the area—you know, the human interest thing.

We haven’t done any interviews, and Em hasn’t been away from the lodge in months, Lance told him.

I don’t know anything about that. I do know I’ve made my delivery. Now I need to get back on the route. Turning, the man opened the door, returning to his jeep, then headed back toward the highway.

Lance picked up the box, carrying it with the letter back to the dining room where Emmalee and Samantha waited for him. So what did he bring? Samantha asked.

Certified letter and a box from Paula White, he told her.

Paula White? Emmalee asked.

"That’s the return address on the letter and the box. Martin said she does a TV show called Mornings with Paula White."

I’ve seen that show. She does spotlights on people around the state, what they do, who they are—that sort of thing, Samantha told them.

I don’t know what that has to do with us, Lance said as he turned the letter over and over in his hand. There’s only one way to find out. Lance lifted a knife off the table then slit the envelope open, unfolding the letter with the logo from the show on the top.

Read it out loud, Lance, Samantha told him with impatience.

Dear Samantha and Lance Garrett,

Enclosed you will find a DVD of our show, season ten, episode fifteen. We did an in-depth exposé on your guardian Emmalee Denning before her opening of a new one-man show at Sophie’s Gallery. We were honored to highlight Mrs. Denning and her work; we are sending the letters of response. We were disappointed she didn’t choose to be interviewed at this time but hope to have her on a future episode of Mornings with Paula White.

Sincerely yours,

Paula White and staff

That is interesting. Did either of you know about this? Emmalee asked them.

We got a call from a TV station in Denver last year asking to come up to do an interview with you. You weren’t doing too well at the time it was the anniversary of the accident. I told him it wasn’t a good time, Samantha explained.

Looks like they did their own thing. Let’s take this upstairs and see what they did. Lance held up the DVD, waving it back and forth.

When they had settled in the family apartment on the second floor of the lodge, Lance loaded the DVD into the player. You two ready to see what’s on this disc?

Roll ’em, Samantha told him as he pushed the button to start the player then took the space left between the two women on the sofa.

The show started with Paula welcoming her audience to her show then told them they were doing a exposé on one of Colorado and one of the nation’s most prominent artists, Emmalee Denning, better known by her professional name of Emmalee Gray or by her signature. One of her paintings showed on the screen they zoomed in on her EM as she went to commercial.

Lance fast-forwarded through the commercial. A picture of Emmalee taken when she had her first one-man show in the Denver Gallery of Sophie Parker, taken when she was sixteen, appeared on the screen. This is Emmalee Gray, protégée of Sophie Parker, the world-renowned sculptor. It showed the portrait she had done of Auntie Sophie.

Ms. Gray moved to our fair state at the age of fifteen from Washington state, studying art under Ms. Virginia Hutchenson, a well-known artist in her own right.

The exposé continued touching on the highlights of Emmalee’s life. "Emmalee started her career in a gardening shed she transformed into her studio. It has been called the first she shed." The screen showed the watercolor paintings she had done of the shed before and after. She and her brother James had repurposed the shed, which now lined the room she used as her studio down the hall.

She talked about Emmalee starting her career with a shared space at Art in the Park in Loveland, adding she had the honor of being included in the Next Generation of Great Artists exhibit at the Denver Art Museum.

After another commercial, they showed a slideshow of her best-known works. the mural at the Art Institute in Eagle, Colorado, where she had attended for a year until the death of Ms. Sophie Parker. They showed murals and large canvasses—one in Hog Haven, at the rehab center at the VA, the one in Germany where Eric recovered after he lost his legs, and one at Taggett Industries headquarters, Rock Climber. They continued by showing several of the paintings in a series she did of the waterfall on Big Loop Ranch, portraits of the veterans of Hog Haven paintings from their honeymoon to Hawaii, and a few portraits she had done for the high school yearbook, the project she had been working on when she went to Greeley to study Eric for his portrait for that yearbook.

After another commercial, they showed a few pictures from the Tony Bologny books by C. Mathew she’d done the illustrations for, saying, "Not only was Emmalee known for her paintings, she is known by the younger generation for her illustrations in a popular children’s book series.

Our station contacted Moose Lake Lodge in the foothills outside Peaks Park for an interview with Ms. Gray. We were told it wasn’t a good time for her. She is still mourning the passing of her husband, Eric Denning, a veteran and hero. A photo taken at Eric’s funeral flashed on the screen as she talked. We were as disappointed as you must be to have missed the opportunity to visit with Ms. Gray. We will finish the program with a slideshow of her work. We are truly honored to be able to present this program for you.

After another commercial, they continued showing some of her favorite works the painting of Clay setting at the pool up the Poudre canyon, Clay and his father at the stock show with their arms draped over each other’s shoulders. One of Emmalee’s favorites was the one of Rusty and Anna, the couple who once owned Big Loop Ranch. Rusty had sold the ranch after the death of his beloved wife, Anna, moving to a small house in a Fort Collins senior housing complex with a workshop set up in the garage where he could make his beautiful wood carvings.

There were numerous paintings of Eric with his lopsided smile and the children. The painting that hung above the fireplace in the lobby of Eric and herself showed on the screen with the comment Emmalee and Eric Denning were married for almost twenty years. They had planned on retiring to the Hawaiian Islands on the day after the tragic accident which claimed his life over two years ago.

The last painting they showed was the oversized canvas of the shaggy red longhorn steer she had painted from a photo taken at the one and only time she had been to the stock show in Denver. "This painting hangs in our own lobby here at KBUL TV. This is Paula White for Mornings with Paula White. Thanking you for tuning in this morning." The program ended with the big, brown-eyed bull gazing at them from under shaggy red bangs. His mouth seemed to hold a smile as the silver balls on the end of his horns glowed warmly.

Well, that wasn’t bad. At least they didn’t dig up any dirt to throw in there, Emmalee told them while Lance turned the DVD off.

I think it was a good piece. They didn’t show any of your recent works. They are so good—some of them should have been on the show, Samantha told her.

I’m sure if they had had the time to acquire permission from the museums and galleries or the private collectors, they would have been on the show too, Lance told her. Ginny said last time she was here that almost all her works were being bought by existing clients with a waiting list of people wanting the opportunity to buy Em’s paintings.

A lot of the work I have done these last couple years are contracted portraits that don’t get to the public, Emmalee told them. I haven’t gone out much.

Em, you have had to heal to become whole again. Eric left a huge hole in our lives. Especially yours. We understand why you have holed up here, not going out, Lance told her.

Em, I think Eric would want you to move on. He was such a strong man, a survivor, and he would want you to move on and build a productive life, Samantha told her. I don’t want to hurt you, but you need to start thinking about building something new.

I know you’re right. I guess I’ve been too comfortable surrounded by the security of the lodge and having the two of you close. Where I can work to my heart’s content, Emmalee told them. I can only imagine what Eric would be saying right now. He’d be agreeing with you I’m sure.

Em, Eric told you himself to go on and live for the both of you. You remember that, don’t you? Lance told her.

She only nodded, remembering his words, then looked at the box Lance had brought up with the DVD. Let’s see what is in that box.

Lance took a pen knife from his pocket, slitting the packing tape and opening it, revealing envelopes stacked neatly, filling the box. Pulling a hand full from the box flipping through the envelopes in his hand, he said, They seem to be addressed to Emmalee Gray, EM, Ms. Gray, or Mrs. Denning. Seems they sent you your fan mail.

Em, open some, what do they say? Samantha asked her excitedly then watched as Emmalee opened the first envelope, unfolding the letter within, reading aloud,

Mrs. Denning, I would very much like to offer you a chance to invest in my new company. Seeing as you are a widow of a veteran you will need assistance in handling the moneys you make with your paintings. Please contact me for a time to have a consultation.

Well, this is scratch paper, Emmalee told them as she refolded the letter, replacing it in the envelope then dropping it on the floor.

Read another one, Samantha begged.

Opening another envelope, she read,

Ms. Gray,

I like the show the TV did on you. I wish you had been on it I’d like to see you for real. I just love Tony Bologny and the pictures you make of Tony.

Your friend,

Joey

This one I’ll answer, she told them.

Do another one, Lance told her.

My dear Ms. Denning,

I am a widower and know the loneliness you must be feeling. I would like to take you out for dinner one evening. I believe we could be good friends with benefits.

That one is definitely trash. Friends with benefits my eye, Emmalee told them as they all laughed.

Why don’t we divide up the letters? Put them in piles, Samantha told them. A pile for propositions, one for fans, one for trash, and one for Em to read and decide what to do with.

That’s a good idea, Emmalee told her. I don’t want to have to go through all these myself. But I think we should respond to them.

We can do a form letter to the business proposals and personal propositions telling them thank you but no thank you, Lance suggested.

That’s a good idea. I’d like to personally answer all the fan mail, Emmalee told them.

That should work for all the personal and business propositions, Eric told her. I’ll write something up for you. Maybe sign it ‘Lance Garrett, Personal Assistant’?

Samantha giggled. Personal assistant—good one, can I be one too?

Sure, you can. We’ll do this as a team, Lance told her.

They spent the next few hours going through the box of letters.

Listen to this one, Samantha told them.

Emmalee,

I have loved you from the moment I saw your face on the TV. I think we could have a happy life together.

There you go, the answer to all your prayers. I can see it now—dirty sleeveless undershirt, bare belly, beer in hand, living off you.

Sammie, bite your tongue, ugh, Emmalee told her.

This one is even better.

Ms. Gray,

I don’t know if you remember me but you once told me if you ever made it big, I should look you up because you’d give me ten grand signed by a Bimby.

No, that’s got to be a joke, Lance told them.

Here is one I like to read.

Mrs. Denning,

I am sorry your husband died. My daddy died too. I bet you miss him like I miss my daddy. Maybe they are in heaven playing cards.

Your friend,

Annie

Emmalee added it to the pile of fan letters. Or this one.

Ms. Gray,

I love to paint more than anything in the world, but my mom says it is a waste of time. Nobody normal ever makes a living at painting pictures. Please tell me what to do to get good enough to be like you. I am fourteen years old.

Becky

She even sent you a picture she painted, Lance told Emmalee, holding the picture for her to see.

That, my dear, is a child who, if given the right mentor and encouragement from her mother, could be a great painter. Emmalee looked at the painting of a puppy sleeping on its back its fat belly baking in the sun. I’ll do a little looking around the area where she lives, see if I know someone who can take her under their wing.

When they finished the whole box, Emmalee was relieved to see the largest pile would receive form letters, leaving her with a smaller number of letters to answer in person.

Give it a week and I’ll be old news, then we will go back to our quiet life before we open again…maybe I should say before you open, Emmalee told them.

We need to get back to work. Fun’s over. I have a couple of hours in the office to do, so many requests for reservations already. I hate to think we will be turning away guests again this year, Lance told them as he stood to go back downstairs. Sam, I’ll come to the kitchen when I’m done. You can give me your list of to-do’s.

I’ll come with you. I need to get started on the inventory. Turning, Samantha gave Emmalee a kiss on the cheek as she passed her. You going to the studio to work?

Thought I might be able to help with the inventory, she told them.

Sure, we can always use an extra pair of hands, Samantha told her, hooking her arm through Emmalee’s as they left the apartment.

Chapter 2

Lance found Emmalee three hours later, sitting on the floor in the linens of the lower-level storage room. Sam wants to know if you’re ready for lunch?

Seeing all the quilts stacked on the floor beside her, he asked, What are you doing?

I am supposed to be counting linen. I finished with the food storage and table settings. Came in here to count then saw all these quilts stacked on the shelves. Emmalee looked up at Lance with a dreamy smile on her face.

Lowering himself to sit beside her, he asked, Is there a story here? He loved it when she would tell them a story. He remembered as a kid, he would close his eyes and listen carefully to what she was saying and feel as if he were standing beside her experiencing it himself. No one could tell them about the sounds, smells, or feel of the stories like she did. Maybe it was the artist in her that made her see things no one else could see.

Eric used to tell them, Don’t worry, she has just gone into one of her trances. She’ll be back in a minute, she is feeling what she sees. He hadn’t understood when he was little, but as he got older, he could see what Eric knew. Emmalee didn’t just see a landscape or an interesting face or a place; she felt it, smelled it, and experienced it.

We should get up to lunch. Sammi puts a lot into making good meals for us. It’s not polite to be late, Emmalee told him as she started to stand.

Oh no, you don’t. If these quilts have a story or are connected to one, I want to know what it is, Lance told her, holding her in place.

Emmalee was quiet for long minutes, running her hand over the quilt on top of the pile; she got what Eric would have called the look as if she had gone somewhere else or into one of her trances. Lance waited for her to begin. While we were renovating, this old lady, Eric, and I had fun going through the attics, storage rooms, closets, and cubby-holes around here. You know that beautiful antique dress hanging in the boutique?

Lance nodded, knowing she probably wasn’t looking at him. "We found it in the north attic where we found all the old pictures and fixtures. It was in a trunk along with some old wool suits and other clothes. A quilt was in the bottom wrapped in an old sheet. Someone had loved it enough to put cedar chips in the bottom and on top of it to keep the bugs out.

At first, we hung it on the wall north of the grand staircase, but we were rapidly filling the wall with all our kids’ pictures. Lance knew by kids, she didn’t mean Samantha and him but the students who had worked at the lodge over the years. By the time we needed the space for more pictures, we had someone lease one of the walkway stores doing country goods. They asked if they could use the old quilt as a display. Emmalee stopped for a minute before continuing. That quilt was the idea for using quilts on the beds instead of spreads. We were lucky enough to purchase the first quilts from a quilting guild in Peaks Park. After that, we have gotten them when we see them at fairs, craft shows, and little shops, even thrift stores if we find them. Emmalee looked over at him, saying, Come on, help the old lady up so we can go have lunch.

Lance gave her his hand to steady her. She bent, putting the quilts back on the shelf, tucking the inventory sheet between the top quilt and the one below it. We need that many quilts? Lance asked her.

We need extra in case one is purchased by a guest. They need replacing from time to time. Why do you think Eric and I made so many trips to thrift stores, craft fairs, estate sales, and antique stores?

We thought you just liked that sort of thing.

Emmalee laughed at his remark. Unless you kids want to use some other form of bed coverings, you’ll have to start shopping too.

Don’t you have people calling to sell quilts to us? Lance asked her.

We do, but we try to get them at a lowest cost when we can.

They entered the restaurant where Samantha was looking at the view from their favorite table by the window, set for three. Sorry, Sam. I had to look high and low for her, found her sitting on the job.

I’ll have you know I was counting toilet paper and towels, Emmalee told Samantha.

Laughing, Lance said, She was counting quilts. Told me why we have quilts on all the beds instead of spreads.

Let me bring the food out, and you can tell me, Samantha told them as she went back to the kitchen.

Can I help you with anything? Emmalee called.

How long did it take before Charlie let you help in the kitchen? He used to say he was picky about who went in his kitchen. I learned a lot from him, Samantha called over her shoulder.

Samantha always made the lunch meal the big meal of the day in the winter closed months. She said it was healthier to have a lighter meal in the evening; today was no exception. She made a large pan of enchiladas, what she called pooka dot vegetables and salad.

Samantha was not a vegetable eater as a child; Charlie came up with the most fun ideas to tempt her to eat vegetables. Pooka dot vegetables had been one of those ideas. He had used corn, thinly sliced baby carrots, and green and red peppers seasoned with honey. Now that Samantha was older and liked her vegetables, the honey was deleted from the dish, replaced by a spicier combination to complement the meal. She still used the honey when she did only carrots. I have sopapillas ready to drop in the fryer when we’re ready.

You know, Sam, I’m never sorry we teamed up to run the lodge, Lance told her.

Yeah, I know, or you’d starve trying to eat anything you make, Samantha teased him.

Wadding his napkin, he threw it at her, which she caught and threw right back at him.

They had just finished eating when a car came up the drive. I wonder who that could be, Samantha asked.

I’ll go see, probably someone lost. You can cook up some of those sopapillas. I’ll be back in a couple minutes, Lance told them.

Samantha took the soiled dishes with her when she returned to the kitchen. Emmalee watched as Lance used the French doors leading to the walkway in front of the restaurant on his way to meet the visitor.

The driver opened his door, extending a hand toward Lance, who shook the man’s hand then backed away four feet. As the man talked, Lance shook his head several times before he talked to the man, waving his hand. Emmalee knew Lance wasn’t happy with what the man was saying. Lance stepped closer to the driver, saying something.

What’s going on? Lance doesn’t look happy. He never waves his hands around unless he is upset or angry, Samantha told her as she set the hot fried sweet bread on the table. Think I should go out and see what’s going on?

No. If the guy doesn’t leave in another minute, I’m calling the sheriff, Emmalee told her as she took her cell phone from her hand-tooled leather tote.

Oh, look, he’s getting back in his car, but it doesn’t look good. He’s red in the face and from the look of it is yelling at Lance.

As they watched, the man started his car accelerating so quickly he threw rocks behind him as he made a sharp U-turn and sped back down the road. Lance stood watching him until he was over the rise and out of sight, before turning to make his way back to them.

Stupid jerk, Lance said before he sat down again taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

What was that about? It was more than someone lost, Emmalee said.

"I have to quote him so you know why I am so mad: ‘I own a development company. Now that Mrs. Denning is a widow, I know she will be unable to maintain the lodge. We would like to offer her a sweet deal to take this old place off her hands.’ Told him that wouldn’t be a possibility because Moose Lake Lodge is on the historical registry and development is not possible.

"‘We won’t change the Lodge but build around it, use it as the recreation center for the lux homes we will build here, maybe do some condos in the lodge itself.’ Told him we wouldn’t sell to a developer who will destroy all she and her husband and partners have worked to build.

"‘We understood Mrs. Denning owned the building and the land,’ he said.

"‘You have been misinformed.’

"‘I would like to speak with Mrs. Denning myself if you will step aside please.’

"‘Not going to happen.’

‘I believe she is who should be discussing this, not you, boy.’

Oops, wrong thing to say, Samantha said.

"‘I don’t think you understand me, sir, Mrs. Denning has no intentions of selling the lodge ever, and it will be handed down to her children. Who, I might add, have been managing the lodge for the past two years. Now if you will just get back in your car and leave us alone.’

"‘Why, you wet-behind-the-ears kid, I demand to see Mrs. Denning or one of her kids.’

"‘You’re looking at one. Now if you will please get back in your car and leave before I have the sheriff sight you for trespass.’

"‘You haven’t heard the last from us. I am sure Mrs. Denning, being more mature, would listen to reason. She needs to know you’re much too young to know how to run this kind of operation.’

‘We are a family-owned, family-operated, and family-served destination. We will be just fine,’ I told him. Lance took a breath reaching for a sopapilla, adding, He left. I think I need to go down and close the gate. It will be inconvenient for Martin to bring the mail and for the family or friends that might want to visit, but it will keep his kind out.

I should have come out with you. I could have told him to get out sooner, Emmalee told him as she drizzled honey on her sopapilla.

He had a lot of nerve saying we couldn’t know how to run the lodge, Samantha told them.

Don’t get worked up, Sammi. He won’t be back, Lance told her. You can have the next one. Just don’t hurt him—we don’t need a lawsuit.

I’m ready to get back to the inventory unless you want help with the dishes, Emmalee told Samantha.

I’m good, thanks, Samantha told her as she gathered up the remaining dishes, taking them into the kitchen.

I can’t believe the nerve of people. Thank you, Paula White, Emmalee told Lance. Guess I better get back downstairs. I only have a few shelves left to do.

You know you don’t need to help with the inventory. Sam and I can handle it, he told her.

I know, dear. It gives me pleasure to think I’m still useful around here, Emmalee told him, kissing him on the forehead as she stood.

I’ll go down and get the gate hooked up again. I’ll have Sam listen for the buzzer so she can open it to let me back in. Make sure everything is working like it should.

Make sure the sign is on it that tells folks we’re closed for the season, Emmalee told him as she left the dining room.

Bossy old thing, Lance called after her.

Sticking her head back around the hall opening, she said, I heard that, young man. Laughter followed her to the stairs leading down to the storage rooms, cooler, laundry, and Frank and Charlie’s old apartment. The apartment was used for special guests after it had been made nearly impenetrable not at the lodge’s expense but the government’s and several guests’, not to be named.

* * *

Lance returned to the lodge after an hour working with the security gate. They only used it when they had a special guest in residence. It was always difficult when one came; the other guests had to be background checked and security was tightened, not just the Moose Lake Lodge security people but the security they brought with them. Most high-profile guests who visited the lodge were given the two rooms on the second floor near the family apartment or Charlie and Frank’s apartment.

Samantha was heading to the cleaning closet on the second floor as Lance entered the lodge carrying another box from Mornings with Paula White. That’s all Em needs on top of the guy earlier.

I’ll go to the office see if I can find the Return to Sender stamp. These can wait until we are finished for the day, Lance told her.

You’re right. I’ll be up in the closet counting supplies if you need anything, Samantha replied.

Got it, was his reply as they went their separate ways.

Emmalee finished counting the linins and all the nonperishable food stuff; she would leave the cooler for Samantha to count. She would know better than herself what was needed. Sitting on the third step to relax, putting her elbows on her knees, she rested her chin in her hands as she thought of the incident early in the afternoon.

She hoped it had been a one-time thing like she hoped the letter writing would stop soon too. Why hadn’t the TV people left well enough alone? She would have done an interview with them making it clear she wasn’t interested in changing her lifestyle.

Is that what the problem is, not wanting to change? When had she got so stuck in her ways she wasn’t open to change? Maybe when she was no longer lonely yearning for Eric and having her family around. Eric, Samantha, Lance, Charlie, and Frank had given her that, the family she craved after moving to Johnsville. After her father had died, her mother, Sandra turned to work much like Emmalee did herself. Her brother James had been in medical school.

Her mother had uprooted her from the only home she knew to move from Washington State to Colorado for a new job opportunity and having James only an hour away.

Emmalee had been taken from the circle of friends she had known her whole life and tossed into a totally different environment. She went into a school where the kids had known each other their whole lives and couldn’t understand the new girl with her obsession to draw, sketch, and paint. When her art teacher had asked to display some of her paintings alongside her own at sixteen, her life changed. Ms. Hutchenson, or Ginny as she called her now, was the saving grace at school, the safe place to hide.

Jasmine Hoyte, the daughter of the veterinarian and their landlord, became a big sister to her until the banker’s son had sent her running to Montana to escape his harassment.

Clayton Mathews had been her first love. She had a year of first love bliss until he married another woman.

Eric Denning had been her savior at the worst time in her life. They became the closest of friends for years until she realized she couldn’t live without him in her life, and they married.

Dear, sweet, loving, unselfish Eric—why had he been taken from her? They were supposed to grow old together. Who would make her laugh, who would take her to biker bars, and whom would she share her love of Hawaii with?

It had been Eric who took her to see four of her paintings hanging in the Denver Art Museum. He had pushed her and supported her as an artist; he understood when she would leave their bed at night or not go to bed at all when she had a painting she wanted to do.

It had been Eric who wanted to take her somewhere really special on the night he asked her to marry him. They had ended up at the then closed Moose Lake Lodge, being invited to share a meal with the two brothers who had been living and working in the lodge their entire adult lives.

Over time, developing a close bond with the two, they’d partnered up with Frank and Charlie Grandger to restore and run Moose Lake Lodge. They started by trying to help them keep the lodge from being torn down and developed as a condo community by successfully in getting Moose Lake Lodge on the national registry of historical places.

Charlie and Frank put up the building and the land with their knowledge and skills; Eric and Emmalee put up the money they had saved. Emmalee from what was left of her college fund, what she had saved from her paintings and illustrations she had done for a children’s adventure book and a building willed to her by Sophie Parker. Eric used what was left of his college fund and the insurance money from his father’s death and the money he received from that accident’s settlement.

A few years back, Frank had fallen down the stairs she was now setting on, breaking his hip. He decided he wasn’t capable of living in the lodge any longer. He had chosen to become a resident of a lovely assisted-living apartment facility in Fort Collins. Charlie joined him within a short time; they had never lived apart and found they couldn’t at the end of their years. Frank had died five years ago.

Oh, Eric, how can I move on alone? How can I go back to being so lonely? It hurts my very soul? How can I move into a house we had planned to share in the new phase of our lives? A house we spent years talking about planning and watching as it was built even if it had to be by video conferencing. We only stayed one night there together. How can I go back without you? I hope I was worthy of you. I hope you knew how much I love you.

Emmalee jumped when she felt a hand rest on her shoulder. Em, you okay? Lance asked as he sat on the step next to her pulling her close to him. Is it about what happened earlier?

No, sweetheart, I was just sitting here wallowing in memories.

You know Sam and I miss him too, right? He was our father for nearly twenty years, Lance told her. Mom couldn’t have done better when she chose you as our guardian.

It’s not just Eric. I was thinking about why I can’t move on and do what Eric and I had planned. I think I am dreading the loneliness again.

You have many friends in Hawaii. You will not be alone. You have told us many times through the years you wish you could live there and not come back after the winter has passed.

"That was when I had Eric