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I live here—this is mine.
There was such a jumble of emotions inside her that she couldn’t untangle them. Pride, joy, fear, and uncertainty all competed for supremacy. After climbing to the landing, she used the key to open the front door and stepped inside.
The house had an empty, forlorn aura about it. She inhaled—there was a humid, stale odor. I’ll have to see what I can do to breathe some life back into it.
The front door entered into a hallway with an office on her left and an open kitchen and great room to the right. A cozy side table sat inside the door, an envelope with her name on it on top. Hope left that alone for the moment, entering the office. The top of the desk was bare except for some empty desk trays and a pencil organizer. Several file cabinets sat along the wall. Not wanting to face that yet either, she continued her tour.
The kitchen was clean and modern, sporting a large granite island with barstools on the far side. The great room contained a typical layout, with a tan couch and loveseat, a couple of bright blue accent chairs, and a flat-screen TV on the wall.
Hope continued into the spacious master bedroom at the back of the house, which was dominated by a wall of floor to ceiling windows showcasing the ocean view. Passing a king-size bed, she moved into the attached bathroom and opened the closet to find it stuffed with clothing and the various accumulations of life. Sadly, all of Susan’s clothing still seemed to be present as well.
Hope sat on the bed and sighed. How would she tackle this?
I can’t just throw out all of Steve’s things. What if he comes back for them?
She decided to investigate the prospects of the garage out front for storage. Nearing the front door, the envelope on the front table called out to her. “Ok, I guess it’s time for you now.” She picked up the letter and sat down on the couch to read it.
Dear Hope,
I’m sure you’re furious with me right now, and I don’t blame you. It might not mean anything to you, but I’m very sorry to leave you alone like this. I’d like to explain. My wife and I moved to St. Croix and started Half Moon Bay Resort in 1994. We poured our heart and soul into this place and raised our two children here. After growing up, they left St. Croix and moved back to the mainland. After Susan passed last year, all I could see around me were memories of happier times.
That’s when I decided to retire and move closer to my kids and grandkids. The lottery seemed like a great way to leave on a high note, knowing I helped someone out. I hope you at least feel the same way about that.
I fully expected to stay on and teach you everything you need to know about the resort to keep it the success that it is. In the last week or so, I’ve found it harder and harder to think about staying here and drawing all of this out.
To put it bluntly, I can’t do it.
I ask your forgiveness. Patti can teach you almost as much as I about the resort operations, and Alex knows the dive op better than anyone. Lean on them—they won’t let you down. They are both stellar people.
I’ve written down some things Patti or Alex might not know, such as bank information and the names of some professionals I use (lawyer, accountant, etc.) I hope it’s helpful.
Again, I’m sorry for leaving like this. With your hotel experience and work ethic, I have no doubt you will be a great success and lead Half Moon Bay into its next phase.
Best regards,
Steve Jackson
Hope sighed and rubbed her eyes before turning to the other sheet of paper. Listed were bank account numbers, though she had completed the account transfers when she and her lawyer had signed the documents Steve’s attorney had sent. But the accountant and insurance agent information would come in handy. Steve also noted a wall safe behind a painting in the office and the combination. She looked around the bedroom with new steel in her spine.
You’re goddamn right I’m going to be successful. No thanks to you.
Hope returned the envelope to the entry table and left the house to investigate the garage and shop. She was relieved the Jeep Wrangler was inside, as she’d already taken the title to it.
Gathering an armful of boxes she found in the garage, Hope headed back to the house and started her battle in the master closet, boxing up everything until the closet was an empty shell. That took the rest of the morning. Sealing up someone’s intimate details, even though they were strangers, left her drained and miserable.
Hope made a brief stop for lunch, and by late afternoon she had removed all of Steve’s and Susan’s personal effects from the house, leaving it furnished like a general vacation rental. The office took the most time, as she had to separate the business items she might need from their personal documents, which she boxed up. Hope opened the wall safe, not even sure what she expected or wanted to find, but it was empty.
She returned to the main area of the house and soaked in her surroundings. It no longer felt like someone else’s house, but it wasn’t hers yet either. Maybe some new artwork, throw rugs, and pillows would help, and definitely new linens.
Satisfaction washed over her. She’d accomplished a lot today. Hope let her gaze drift to the sun nearing the horizon.
“I think a celebratory drink is in order,” she said to the empty room.
CHAPTER 13
Leaving through the rear porch’s sliding glass door, Hope walked along the beach. Her cleaning had left her thoroughly dirty, so after a shower, she’d changed into a pair of skinny jeans and a white tank top. Carrying her flip-flops in one hand, she let the waves wash over her feet, then on impulse turned and walked to the end of the pier.
For several minutes she stood still, looking out at the ocean as the water lapped against the wooden pilings below her feet. Resolve filled her as she watched the horizon. It was a strange mixture of peace and determination. She was finally able to soak in the serenity and beauty around her and relax. Tipping her head back, she closed her eyes and let the breeze wash over her, soaking it all in.
