Love Came Unexpectedly

“I do now. I didn’t before starting the stable. But I’ve been here two years.”

“In the winter, too?”

“Sure. That’s my quiet time. The lake is much more peaceful then. There’s things to do in winter. Things you put off from summer. Even a few customers. You’ll see.”

Of course…Sunny hadn’t thought of anything past getting the resort open, but she could imagine things she could do in winter. The stipulation said she’d have to live and work here a year. What would it be like then, with no customers?

She pushed the worries aside, trusting God to take care of them. At the moment, all she wanted was to enjoy this wonderful, unexpected gift of a boat ride.

And the oh-so-pleasant company of Grant.

RUTH SCOFIELD

became serious about writing after she’d raised her children. Until then, she’d concentrated her life on being a June Cleaver-type wife and mother, spent years as a Bible student and teacher for teens and young adults, and led a weekly women’s prayer group. When she’d made a final wedding dress and her last child had left the nest, she declared to one and all that it was her turn to activate a dream. Thankfully, her husband applauded her decision.

Ruth’s first book was published in 1993 just a month after her return to her native Missouri after years in the East. She often sets her novels in Missouri, where there are lakes and hills aplenty, and as many stories and history as people. She eagerly expects to write at least two dozen more novels.

Love Came Unexpectedly

Ruth Scofield

MILLS & BOON

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If you wish to remain in Me and My words remain

in you, ask whatever you wish,

and it will be given you.

—John 15:7

I wish to thank Tom and LuDawn Rodman

for their ever-present enthusiasm for the

Lake of the Ozarks, the boat rides, jet ski rides,

parasailing and their love of family. Your help

is always there and valuable. Thank you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Letter to Reader

Chapter One

Grant Prentiss, without becoming obvious, stood near enough to watch the young woman as she talked with that Realtor, Jim Lindberg. Grant hoped she’d view him as just another idler, someone interested in the water and docks. That is, if she paid him the least bit of attention. He didn’t want her to think he was overly curious.

Though he was.

He’d give a good yahoo to know what Jim Lindberg wanted. Although that was obvious enough. Jim Lindberg was a Realtor and if he wasn’t offering his services to sell this place, Grant would eat his favorite ball cap.

He wore a straw cowboy hat now. Without thinking, he removed it to brush back his dark hair. His hand came away damp with sweat before he replaced his hat.

Was the Realtor telling her what the resort was truly worth? Some sky-high figure, no doubt. Resorts like Sunshine Acres didn’t stay on the market long, but the reality was usually lower than what was promised.

Besides, the resort was old and the cabins needed updating, though honest repairs were at a minimum.

Sunny Merrill had inherited this resort. Its location and large acreage made it a prime property in spite of its aging cabins. She hadn’t wasted any time getting here after notification, he thought. She’d hardly had time to properly look at Sunshine Acres.

But she couldn’t sell it. Not right away, at least.

Grant surreptitiously glanced their way again.

Sunny Merrill looked like a bright summer day, with golden hair falling straight down around her shoulders, and gorgeous long legs showing under dark tan shorts. She was well named, he thought. She was rather tall, and he wondered where she’d stand, measured against him. Skinny as she was, she had all the right curves.

The two moved closer, down the slope toward the water. He prayed they would stop at the shoreline and not come onto the docks. He knelt and pulled his boat motor from his boat. It needed a cleaning, something he’d do later after supper.

Glancing again, he saw they had paused. He sighed—he wasn’t quite ready for introductions.

She probably wasn’t as pretty up close.

He glanced from the side of his vision, which told him nothing. She had a small straight nose and large eyes. He couldn’t tell what color.

She didn’t look like old Nathan much. But kids didn’t often look like their grandparents, did they?

Where had she been all this time? he wondered for the hundredth time. Yet he knew. They’d found her in Minneapolis. She worked in private practice as a charge nurse, she was twenty-six years old and she lived alone.

That didn’t really answer his question.

But true to predictions, she’d come flying down to the Ozarks as soon as she heard about her inheritance. Oh, she’d driven in today, not flown. But she’d come, all the same, in a hurry. And now, what irked him to the hilt was that she’d contacted a real estate person right from the get-go.

Yet she had to contact Mr. Windom, the lawyer, at some point, didn’t she? To collect the keys and pick up whatever else there was to pick up?

They turned toward the docks, so Grant put the motor down and casually strolled to docks’ end. He watched a jet ski come in, way too fast, sending waves rippling his way to rock the wooden dock. This was usually a rather quiet cove, more filled with fishermen, isolated on the land side by a gravel road through huge stone cliffs and uncharted timber.

They didn’t get many jet skis or water skiers here. Their clientele was quieter. People—customers—often came in by boat; the old gravel road took longer.

He listened as one voice grew more distinct. The Realtor’s. He tipped his head, listening.

“The docks are your best asset,” Jim said. “They are in good shape and you have a lift that works. Someone has been seeing to these things. Now if you put a little money into the cabins, I can get you top dollar.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said.

She spoke in a rich contralto, a soft voice that had enough charm to easily lull bees and bunnies. It buzzed along Grant’s nerve ends like rich dark honey, and he realized it could lull him, too, if he wasn’t careful.

“Willis can do anything you want done. He’s reliable.”

“I appreciate your coming all the way out here with me, to see the place, Mr. Lindberg.” She spoke smoothly, as though she was used to dealing with high pressure. “But I’m just not ready to make up my mind. The lawyer told me I needed to live here a year to inherit and I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet. I have a job I have to decide about, too, you know, and I’ve hardly had time to assess anything yet. Or evaluate it.”

Determinedly, Grant thought he might as well get it over with and meet the new owner. He had to do it sometime. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to let Lindberg know he was around.

He moved toward them. Casually, as though he had nothing more on his mind than meeting his new neighbor.

“Hi there, Grant,” Jim turned at his approach and spoke in his bright voice, apparently not at all surprised to see him. “Going fishing this evening?”

“Hi, Jim. Nah, just checking my motor. Needs cleaning. Too hot to go fishing anyway. Though I may take a dip.”

“Grant, I’d like you to meet old Nathan’s, um, granddaughter, the new owner of Sunshine Acres. Sunny Merrill.”

Grant let his gaze swing her way; he wanted to look directly at her. He wanted to see her face at closer range. He wanted to see if she was really as pretty as she seemed.

Her cheeks were high and pale with little makeup, with a wide, barely lipsticked mouth. Her eyes were hazel, as he recalled her grandmother’s being, a soft green-brown color.

His gaze settled on her mouth. She had the wide shape of Nathan’s mouth. Startled at the knowledge, he barely registered the tired lines around her eyes.

He remained silent. Then realizing she expected him to say something, he spoke.

“Hi. Grant Prentiss.” He held out his hand and she reached to meet it. Her fingers were firm beneath the soft skin. “I own Grant’s Retreat.”

At her blank stare, he added, thumbing over his shoulder, “I’m your next-door neighbor. It’s a riding stable. I’ve only been up and running this last year, and your granddad helped me get underway. In fact, he sold me the land. I, uh…I really appreciated his help along the way.”

“That’s nice.” She said it automatically. Without meaning.

Well, of course. She’d have no attachment to old Nathan. Not like he did. It meant nothing that Nathan—

He shut down his thoughts. That way led to disaster. He’d better leave it alone.

“Well, I guess you’ll let me know,” Jim said reluctantly, as though if he let her go without a firm commitment, he would lose a sale. “In any case, I want to welcome you to the Ozarks and the lake. After you get settled in, maybe we could have lunch one day next week.”

“Perhaps.”

“Okay, then. Just come by or call. I’m usually around.” Jim walked down the dock and then disappeared up the stairs and over the horizon.

Grant was glad to see him go.

Quiet reigned. Grant tried not to stare at her, but he was losing the battle.

He drew a deep breath. “I guess you’ll want to look around. I know this place as well as I know my own. Grew up coming here, summers. I can point out…”

Her eyes were glazing over. “Um, want me to guide you?”

There was a tightening to her lips.

“Mmm… I don’t think I need you, thank you. I’ll just find my own way about. Mr. Lindberg says the owner’s cabin is the gray one?”

“That’s right.”

“I’ll have a look at that. And maybe find a bed.”

They walked off the docks and up the concrete stairs. The noise of the jet ski had faded, and the place was filled with only the sighing of the wind and the chattering of the birds. Silent without guests. Peaceful.

“Have you ever been down to the Lake of the Ozarks before?” Grant asked.

“No. I’ve heard about it, of course. Some of my patients have talked about vacationing somewhere on the lake. I seldom paid attention because I’ve always been so busy. Never thought I’d be in the position of owning a resort, though. It’s quite large, isn’t it?”

“The resort or the lake?”

“Um, both, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah,” he answered slowly. “Okay. Um, the Acres consists of about forty acres, with a lease on more of the timber.” He swung an arm up, pointing to the timbered hills. “There’s about forty-eight acres of timber, too rough to do a lot with, edging my land.”

“That’s very nice.” She said it as though he were talking of the moon.

“Not too many isolated places like this one left. This is one of the reasons this property is so valuable.”

“So I’ve been told. Look, it’s very nice of you to tell me all that, but—”

“No buts to it. That’s why I wanted to talk with you as soon as possible. You see, I had a deal with your granddad. If you’re going to sell Sunshine Acres…that is, after your year is up…well, before he knew about you, he promised to sell the place to me.”

She stopped outside the gray cabin. She studied him, stared into his eyes a long time.

“You know a lot about my situation, don’t you?”

“Enough.” He nodded, wondering what she was thinking, how she thought, the processes of her brain. “I know you are an unknown quantity—a newly discovered granddaughter. A nurse from Minneapolis. Old Nathan was a friend of mine.”

“A close friend, hmm?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Yes, I…understand. Well, Mr. Prentiss,” she said coolly. “I can’t make any decisions for a year about selling, but when I do, then I’ll entertain all offers. By a year from now, I’ll have this whole thing under control. Now if you’ll excuse me?”

She unlocked the door, went through, and closed it in his face. Grant stood a moment, startled at her rudeness, then angrily wheeled away. What a cold package!

From the other side of the door, Sunny heard him leave. Sighing, she closed her eyes a moment. All this was strange, totally new, and nothing had prepared her for it. It was nothing like her life back home, with work, and study, church and visits with the Larsons.

Nothing like knowing she was alone. This inheritance gave her a strange identity, a different understanding of herself. She felt she had to learn a whole new side to who she was and where she came from.

Finally, she turned to view the cabin she’d be living in for a year. Alone.

Alone and…managing. Everything was quiet, the quiet of deep hush. She listened for traffic, for a radio or television from another apartment, for far away, unseen voices, but all she heard was the breeze.

She glanced around. Was there anything left of her grandfather here?

Sunny laid the keys on the deep blue-speckled counter beside the door. The cabin was divided into two sections; the front was an office, and she presumed the back was the manager’s living quarters.

She turned to look at the office. A huge desk, knee-deep in clutter, sat next to a large window; she’d have to go through that the first chance she had. No telling what was there. Opposite the desk sat two comfortable office chairs against the wall.

To her left was the counter, which held the computer and phone. Both were about ten years old; she switched on the computer, and it immediately booted up. She marveled that it still worked. She shut it off; tomorrow, when she’d rested, she’d look into things more thoroughly.

Behind the counter was a wall of shelves stacked with brochures and other literature, and a cork board loaded with pictures. Hung from the second shelf down, at eye level, was a row of keys. For the six cabins, she suspected.

Tomorrow would be time enough to inspect them. They were empty and locked, and had been since the death of her grandfather.

She pushed through the door in the middle of the office and found herself in the living quarters. This is where her grandfather had spent his off time.

There wasn’t much to it. A mid-sized room that was a combination kitchen, living room and dining room. A large window let in the dying light. There were a sagging sofa, a couple of dark-shaded lamps, an aged TV and a brand-new kitchen dining set of medium oak.

Along the wall sat shelves of books—years and years of publications, mostly popular fiction.

She strolled over to run her eyes over some titles. Many were from early in the 20th century. Nathan liked Westerns. It figured.

From the living room, a back door led to a modern deck. It had been added in recent years, she concluded, and was set with a variety of chairs. She decided this was where her grandfather had entertained.

Adjacent to the living room were the bathroom and a tiny bedroom, just big enough for a bed, a small chest of drawers and an equally tiny closet.

She found a well-placed wall lamp above the bed, and clean sheets on the bed. How odd…that old Nathan would leave the bed ready for a different occupant.

Or that someone had.

An open book, a Western, lay face down on the bedside table.

A few old clothes still occupied the closet. Were they her grandfather’s clothes? They must be. Had he worn this old shirt? She touched it, a faded brown plaid, and took it from its hook. It was clean but wrinkled.

She held it to her nose. It smelled of laundry soap and the breeze that had dried it.

Unexpected tears welled up, and she buried her face in the rumpled shirt. Where had they come from? She held the shirt away again. The tears rolled down her cheeks.

She had never known her grandfather.

“Oh, mercy. This won’t do.” She hadn’t expected them at all, and she swiped at them with the back of her hand. How she wished she’d had a chance to meet her grandfather. If she’d known…

But she hadn’t. She’d been told about her father, Johnny Merrill, and how Alison, her mom, had loved him. She had heard all about their runaway romance, and how Johnny’d died in an accident before Sunny was born. Her gentle mother had been heartbroken.

Her mom had spoken of him with lingering affection and love in the days of Sunny’s growing up, but they’d lived from hand to mouth. Alison never told Sunny anything about Johnny’s parents.

What her mom had said was that there were no living relatives. Sunny had assumed they were all gone, like Mom, now, to cancer, and her mother’s parents, to a heart attack and an accident. Like her dad.

She sighed. Alison had died when Sunny was twelve. Sunny had finished her growing up in foster families, some better than others. But she’d been blessed beyond reason when she’d finally fallen in with the Larsons at almost fifteen.

They’d helped her grow to womanhood and Sunny visited them now every week, along with their current crop of foster kids. She especially loved little Lori.

Well, this was her inheritance. She sniffed back her tears and straightened. After the inspection, she had intended to go back to town to a motel and to have a good dinner. She’d driven since early morning, from Minneapolis, and she was exhausted.

But that was changed now. She’d sleep here. She put the shirt back in the closet.

Sunny set about unloading her car. It was almost dark, and she turned on all the lights in the cabin as she traipsed back and forth carrying her things inside. There wasn’t much; she had packed for only a couple of weeks. She’d planned to stay only until she could understand where she stood with all this.

But the lawyer said she had to live here a year…

She wouldn’t think of that now. There were immediate things that demanded attention. The stack of bills she’d spied on the desk and counter, for one.

Bills made her comfortable. After all, she’d been paying them since she’d turned sixteen, and at twenty-six she felt comfortable and disciplined taking care of them. She’d worked steadily, first as a nurses’ aide, then at anything she could find while she went to school. She’d been in fast food, first a fry girl, then a waitress, moving from one restaurant up to another where the tips were better. She’d saved every penny she could to go to school. She still owed on college loans, but she was paying them off a little at a time.

First thing tomorrow, after she’d made an inventory of the entire place, she would know where she was with it all. She’d never lived outside a city before, and the idea began to make inroads on her mind.

Only squirrels could be heard…and the lapping of the lake. Crickets began their song. The dark outside was vast and enclosed everything.

She hurriedly locked her car, then went inside the cabin and locked the outside door. There, that was better. She checked all the windows, finding two unlocked.

“Imagine, leaving the place so vulnerable,” she mumbled aloud, thinking of thieves and rapists and murderers. She turned each lock with precise care.

There were no shades on the office windows; anyone out there could see into the cabin. Biting her lip, she closed the door connecting the office and living quarters. Tight and cozy at last, she finally sank into a kitchen chair.

It was quiet.

Jumping up, she switched on the television. There was a big satellite dish by the side of the cabin. Reception…

…was minimal.

She flipped from channel to channel, but there wasn’t enough to catch her attention. She sighed her disappointment and turned it off. She might as well see what was in the cupboard. A can of soup would do for dinner.

She found several. Tomato, beef barley, vegetable. She had a choice.

The refrigerator switched on, sounding loud in the silence. She nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Oh, I’m being silly,” she said aloud. “This is mine now. I’ll get used to it, won’t I, Granddad? I can even learn to fish if I want to, and go boating. And when I sell the place, I’ll pay off my school loans and help the Larsons…”

She laughed at herself. If her granddad were alive, would he think her crazy for talking to herself?

Most people would. It would be better to think of that Grant guy to get herself in the proper frame of mind. She imagined herself recounting her adventures to the Larsons. Grant was good-looking enough to appeal to most females—and he wore a cowboy hat.

Yeah, he sure was good-looking. And he had great eyes, though they stared at her with suspicion. Never mind. She just wasn’t interested in dark-headed cowboys right now. She had more important concerns about her future, not romance.

Chapter Two

She woke suddenly. For half a moment, she was confused about where she was. A whispering drifted from her half sleep, seeping away as she woke. What had she heard?

She lay silently, listening for something…

A motor boat, far away, made her aware of where she was—a place completely different from her apartment or the busy hospital or doctor’s office she knew.

Faint light sifted around the edges of the curtains. It was morning? Time to get up and going on the day. She had so much to do she hardly knew where to start.

Jumping from the bed, she padded to open the door to the office. Her quick inspection of the kitchen the night before hadn’t unearthed a coffeepot, so she’d have to make do with the one she’d spied on the metal file cabinet in the office. She suspected it was kept there to supply guests when they stopped by.

The office was full of light, though the sun was just beginning to send rays through the front windows. She blinked into the sunlight. It was later than she’d thought.

The coffeepot sat on a hot plate. She hurriedly tiptoed over to grab it before she realized she was alone. There was no need to remain quiet.

Someone rapped on the front door. In the quiet, it sounded more like pounding.

“Eeek…” She squealed and jumped a foot, her heart beating hard. Who was at her door? Already? She wasn’t ready for company. She was in her shorty pj’s.

Which reminded her there were no curtains on the office windows. Anyone could look in and see her. The fact that she was no longer in a city with busy streets and crowded hallways did nothing to calm her. That was what she was used to.

She scurried back through the inner door, closing it behind her. Whoever was at the outer door could just wait. Or go away, she didn’t care. Imagine expecting her to be on call at the crack of dawn!

The knocking continued.

Grabbing her lavender summer robe, she slipped it on, then hurried barefoot to open the office door.