Serial Love: Saints Protection & Investigation by Maryann Jordan Page A
Authors: Maryann Jordan
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about, Sally had Ann with her. It seemed to spark Ann’s memories when she was helping in the cabins. While Sally cleaned, Ann would help a little and reminisce about the guests she remembered over the years.
“Come on, Ann. We’re heading to cabin four now,” Sally said. Ann smiled and followed the woman to the golf cart they used to drive around the area. Sally buckled Ann in, not sure if she would stay on her own.
“Oh, I remember cabin four,” Ann exclaimed, joy written on her face. “We finished this one in 1963. Martin fell off the roof when trying to put the shingles on. I was pregnant at the time and as soon as I heard him yell, I skedaddled right up here.”
“Was he hurt bad?” Sally asked.
“Oh no. Mostly his pride, I expect,” Ann answered, still chuckling at the memory. “I haven’t seen him today.”
Sally, knowing that Martin had passed away three years ago, just said, “I saw him earlier. He’ll be around later.” It seemed strange to lie to the older woman, but Bethany had attended a seminar on Alzheimer’s and Dementia and it was emphasized that instead of insisting the person was wrong, it was better to give them a simple answer that would placate them.
The two women passed Bethany as she was heading to the dock. Giving a wave to the young woman, they continued on to the cabins. Ann’s clarity returned as she said wistfully, “I wish my granddaughter could find someone to take care of her. She works too hard.”
Sally glanced to the side, saying nothing but agreeing with her friend.
Bethany finished tying the paddle boats to the dock, making sure the rules were clearly posted. Stubbing her shoe on a raised nail, she pulled out the hammer she kept in the tool chest that she carried around with her. A few pounds and the nail was once again flush with the wood. Glancing around, she found a few more that needed to be hammered into place. Maybe next year we can replace the dock and use screws instead of nails.
The summer storm that had passed by a couple of days ago left a few tree branches hanging down over the path. She strolled along the trail toward the lodge to get a saw when she saw Horace pulling up in his old car.
Changing directions she walked over, meeting him at the bottom of the steps leading to the front door. He looked the same as always—pale skin and light grey eyes that darted around. His hair was thin on top and his glasses slid down his nose. He always stayed in his cabin when visiting, never participating in any of the activities. She had visions of him as a vampire only coming out at night. Stifling a grin she greeted him.
“Mr. Malinski, good to see you again.”
He nodded nervously, bobbing his head. “Ms. Bridwell.” He followed her up the steps and over to the counter. She checked him in, then printed off the rental agreement. He did not read it, having been there many times.
“I’ve got you in cabin nine, same as you had last time if that’s okay,” she commented.
“Yes ma’am,” he agreed. “I like things to be the same.”
“I know you prefer to not be too close to the other cabins and a group just checked into cabin two.”
He smiled, nervously fiddling with the papers she handed him before reaching out to take the key from her hand.
“Sally has already been there, so the clean linens will be on the bed and in the bathroom. You know the drill so let me know if you need anything.”
Bobbing his head once again, he turned and headed back to his car. She followed him as far as the front porch and watched him drive down the gravel road toward the cabins on the farther side of the small lake. What does he do? The vampire thought flashed through her mind again, this time allowing the giggle to erupt. He must sleep all day and then fly around at night.
Jerking herself out of her musings, she stepped off the porch and headed to the right toward the shed at the back of the lodge to get the saw.
Using the sharp tool, she managed to get the
“Come on, Ann. We’re heading to cabin four now,” Sally said. Ann smiled and followed the woman to the golf cart they used to drive around the area. Sally buckled Ann in, not sure if she would stay on her own.
“Oh, I remember cabin four,” Ann exclaimed, joy written on her face. “We finished this one in 1963. Martin fell off the roof when trying to put the shingles on. I was pregnant at the time and as soon as I heard him yell, I skedaddled right up here.”
“Was he hurt bad?” Sally asked.
“Oh no. Mostly his pride, I expect,” Ann answered, still chuckling at the memory. “I haven’t seen him today.”
Sally, knowing that Martin had passed away three years ago, just said, “I saw him earlier. He’ll be around later.” It seemed strange to lie to the older woman, but Bethany had attended a seminar on Alzheimer’s and Dementia and it was emphasized that instead of insisting the person was wrong, it was better to give them a simple answer that would placate them.
The two women passed Bethany as she was heading to the dock. Giving a wave to the young woman, they continued on to the cabins. Ann’s clarity returned as she said wistfully, “I wish my granddaughter could find someone to take care of her. She works too hard.”
Sally glanced to the side, saying nothing but agreeing with her friend.
Bethany finished tying the paddle boats to the dock, making sure the rules were clearly posted. Stubbing her shoe on a raised nail, she pulled out the hammer she kept in the tool chest that she carried around with her. A few pounds and the nail was once again flush with the wood. Glancing around, she found a few more that needed to be hammered into place. Maybe next year we can replace the dock and use screws instead of nails.
The summer storm that had passed by a couple of days ago left a few tree branches hanging down over the path. She strolled along the trail toward the lodge to get a saw when she saw Horace pulling up in his old car.
Changing directions she walked over, meeting him at the bottom of the steps leading to the front door. He looked the same as always—pale skin and light grey eyes that darted around. His hair was thin on top and his glasses slid down his nose. He always stayed in his cabin when visiting, never participating in any of the activities. She had visions of him as a vampire only coming out at night. Stifling a grin she greeted him.
“Mr. Malinski, good to see you again.”
He nodded nervously, bobbing his head. “Ms. Bridwell.” He followed her up the steps and over to the counter. She checked him in, then printed off the rental agreement. He did not read it, having been there many times.
“I’ve got you in cabin nine, same as you had last time if that’s okay,” she commented.
“Yes ma’am,” he agreed. “I like things to be the same.”
“I know you prefer to not be too close to the other cabins and a group just checked into cabin two.”
He smiled, nervously fiddling with the papers she handed him before reaching out to take the key from her hand.
“Sally has already been there, so the clean linens will be on the bed and in the bathroom. You know the drill so let me know if you need anything.”
Bobbing his head once again, he turned and headed back to his car. She followed him as far as the front porch and watched him drive down the gravel road toward the cabins on the farther side of the small lake. What does he do? The vampire thought flashed through her mind again, this time allowing the giggle to erupt. He must sleep all day and then fly around at night.
Jerking herself out of her musings, she stepped off the porch and headed to the right toward the shed at the back of the lodge to get the saw.
Using the sharp tool, she managed to get the
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