My Way Home (St.Gabriel Series Book 1) (St. Gabriel Series) (37 page)

The day before our first guests were to arrive,
all of our crew was at the lodge, doing everything except what fell in their area of expertise. Kurt and Lisle were helping Marni re-pot the geraniums and place them in the Birchwood flower boxes that Race had made. The boxes were lined up around the edge of both the first and second floor porches. George and Joel were on the second floor porch putting together the Adirondack chairs and footstools.

Ralph Cummings and his family cleaned the lodge from top to bottom. Matthew, his seventeen-year-old sister Leah and their younger brothers were organized by their father and their mother, Miriam, into an impressive brigade. All were given tasks according to their levels of capability.

Benji, the youngest of the Cummings, my dance partner, celebrated a birthday the week prior and was the ripe old age of four. He was in charge of cleaning all of the baseboards. Benji worked with a damp rag in one hand and a cookie in the other, a boy after my own heart.

Leah Cummings, we discovered, was as hard a worker as her father and brother. Not only did she move efficiently from room to room dusting, mopping floors and making beds, she kept her brothers in line while she did it. We hired her for the season to help make up the guestrooms and clean the public areas of the lodge.

Race and I were mounting all of the wall hangings—antique snow shoes, mirrors found in the attic, and all of the frames that Race had made, which were filled with paintings found in the lodge, copies of the old photographs, and Sara Strauss originals. We hung the coat racks I made out of old glass door knobs that were mounted to old baseboard trim, the trim that did not get thrown away. And we made an arrangement above the dining room fireplace mantle with some of the transferware china plates imprinted with illustrations of The Lake Lodge.

The work went on until dinnertime and then we all sat down in the dining room at a row of tables, which were pushed together and draped with linens. Marni and I had made huge casseroles of cottage pie, a spring salad with greens from the garden, and platters of split potato biscuits. We set the feast on the table.

Our big dining room felt warm and cozy with a fire blazing in the fireplace, the walls freshly painted and the pine floors clean and polished. On the buffets were old silver tea and coffee service sets, which were eclectically paired with Race’s Birchwood serving trays. Above the buffets were the mirrors hung exactly as they had been the day George first showed me the lodge. I looked at the reflections of our workmates, our friends, and watched them talk, laugh and eat in that great room. It was my dream fully in front of me. How often does that happen?

I stood up and raised my glass. “Well, folks, we have to kick you all out now because we’re out of money, but we did it. And it would never have happened without the fine craftsmen and craftswoman…” I tilted my head at Lisle. “…and good friends that are sitting at this table. You will never know…” I couldn’t finish.

Race stood up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders and said, “You will never know how grateful we are to all of you, how blessed we feel to know you, and how much we look forward to having you in our lives for many more years of friendship and fellowship, and hopefully a lot less work.”

We all laughed and then Joel stood up. “Well, Chief, I don’t think any of us can say you’ve been the easiest boss to work for, but we’ve all agreed, you do hold the best pow-wows we’ve ever been to, and we’re all honored to have been part of bringing this old place back to life.” He looked across the table. “Go get it, boys.”

Ralph and Kurt left the room and came back in carrying a huge hand-carved sign and stood next to Joel holding it. The sign read,
The Lake Lodge, established 1920
.

Joel set his hand on the top edge. “We all pitched in and we have logs outside ready to install it. Ralph and Matthew electrified some old stable lanterns George had, and they’re gonna wire them up to the posts, so the sign will be lit at night. But it was George who was the real mastermind behind it.”

I looked at George and then at Race. “Did you know?” I asked him.

Race shook his head. We were both teared-up. I couldn’t say anything so I just went around the room hugging everyone. Race did the same and then we all sat back at the table and ate some more. Then Marni and I served a dessert of Rhubarb Strawberry Shortcake and Race’s homemade ice cream drizzled with Rhubarb Sauce.

After our friends left that night, Race and I signed the first line of the new guest register and checked into room number ten. I had decided it would be the honeymoon suite, a secret tribute to George Miller and Celia Alexander.

Friday morning George and Marni pulled away
with the dray and the surrey. Tasha and Collard Greens led the way and Nani and Roxanne pulled up the rear. Marni’s time choosing names for the horses was well spent.

Nani is a Greek name, meaning grace. It fit her to a tee. Tasha strode with strength and authority, but Nani was light in her step, she pranced. She even had graceful eyes with extra long lashes, which Marni was convinced she batted when she saw a male horse that she was particularly attracted to.

Roxanne’s name was chosen for two reasons. First, when she was out in the sun her brown coat shone with a tint of red. When we were children, Marni and I both had friends with red hair who were named Roxanne. Not a cazingydink but definitely a pretty interesting coincidence.

Also, Marni thought she had another red hair connection with Roxanne. “Didn’t Cyrano de Bergerac’s Roxanne have red hair?” she asked me when she was in her final selection process.

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s say she did.”

“You’re the boss,” I said.

But the real reason was that Roxanne, we found, was somewhat demanding and a little hard to please. For example, she would not drink water that wasn’t crystal-clear clean. And, unless she absolutely had to, she never did her business in her stall. On those occasions that she did, she would stand in the corner of the space until someone came and cleaned it out.

It seemed eerily as though the animal was actually a five-foot-seven-inch actress trapped inside the body of a big brown horse. The name Roxanne is of Persian origin and its meaning is ‘Dawn’. It was Marni’s idea—I swear.

Our first guests were arriving on the ten o’clock ferry, and I was putting the final touches on the first floor porch. The Birchwood tables Race had made were placed next to the willow loveseats and chairs that were arranged into conversation areas. I was slipping the last canvas seat cushions into the white lace-trimmed linen cases I had made when Race came up behind me and said, “White? That doesn’t seem very practical.”

“It isn’t at all. That’s what makes it so delicious.”

“Are you nervous?” he asked me.

I nodded.

Race held out his hand to me. “Do you want to take a look around?”

After I fluffed the last cushion, I took Race’s hand. We walked around the porch, and I fussed with the hanging baskets overflowing with Lucy’s annuals—impatiens, licorice vine, trailing verbena and million bells. Enamelware pitchers were filled with her lilies of the valley, daffodils and tulips.

Inside we walked through the first floor and into the library. Race didn’t want to pack up the books, but I knew he had some apprehension about the library being a free-for-all for the guests. I suggested that on some of the higher shelves, we build glass doors that could be locked to protect the rarer books, to which he responded, “Books should be read not put in a museum.”

“I know, but I think we should take care of them or they won’t be around very long for anyone to enjoy. We can put other books on the open shelves, and the rare books will still be in the library if we want to share them with someone.”

Race didn’t like to hoard material things, but I think he was relieved by the solution. Kurt and Lisle got the project laid out and then George and Race went to work. I still hoped to have a gift shop in that room someday but that first season it would be a library. And Race spent many hours there, giving tours of the books, and talking to guests of The Lake Lodge who shared his appreciation and love of words, stories and ideas.

Upstairs we walked through the guestrooms. Each had its own unique look. Old iron or wooden head and footboards held up the new mattresses, which were made-up with crisp, new white sheets and draped with old linens and quilts. Three of the rooms had Birchwood headboards that Race had made and room number ten was just as we had found it—white patchwork quilt, white linens and white curtains trimmed with lace. We added bouquets of white tulips in white ironstone pitchers that sat on the dresser and the little table by the window. Newlyweds were booked that would be arriving anytime and we were ready.

The bathrooms sparkled. Shower curtains made of old quilts and linens hung from the chrome shower enclosures that Joel had installed on the original and reproduction clawfoot bathtubs. Each bathroom also had original or reproduction high-tank toilets and pedestal sinks. Pitchers and washbasins sat on top of antique washstands in the two original bathrooms and in the bathroom of room number ten. Fluffy white towels hung on all of the new chrome towel bars.

Race and I stood on the second floor porch holding onto the railing that was rock solid and had every birch branch in place. Lined up in front of the railing were the flower boxes where the geraniums were just beginning to burst open with their white petals. Fourteen white Adirondack chairs and footstools sat side by side down the length of the porch, waiting to be filled with guests who would sit and take in the best view of Lake Brigade on the island. It was a clear day and we could see from shore to horizon.

We were watching Kurt, Joel, and Ralph who were down at the road concreting the log poles in the ground for The Lake Lodge sign. Race moved behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist and whispered in my ear, “You, Cammy Coleman, amaze me. I am so proud of you.” That was another great day.

That was where we were when the dray, filled with luggage, pulled up to the front gate. It was followed by the surrey. I rolled out of Race’s arms and was ready to burst through the door and run the rest of the way to greet our guests, and Race caught me by the arm. “Slow down, you don’t want to seem too anxious do you?”

“Why not?” I grabbed his hand and pulled him down the stairs.

We were all of the way to the bottom of the hill and standing at the gate when I realized who was climbing out of the surrey. My blonde-haired, blue-eyed brother Frank Engel walked up to me, held out his hand, and greeted me with a Spanish accent, “Hola, I’m Señor Garcia. It’s so very nice to meet you.”

Loretta Scott followed. “Renee Ludington. That’s Ludington with one D. How ya doin’?” She leaned in as she walked by and whispered, “Sandi asked me to tell you she was sorry she couldn’t make it. Grandbaby number ten is due any day.”

Following Loretta were Calli and Tom Cooper, the newlyweds, a.k.a. Race’s parents; Alice and Gerald Right, a.k.a. Race’s oldest sister Olivia and her husband Jeff; and finally, Brittany Crawford and Brad Redford, our dear son and daughter Paul and Janie.

I looked at Race. “Did you know about this?”

He smiled.

I asked Marni, “You knew about this too, didn’t you?”

Marni nodded her head and flashed a devious grin on her innocent little face and said, “Dawn is coming too, but she missed her plane.”

Dawn, she’ll take one look at the place and get back in the surrey.

For a brief moment I felt a bit of irritation at being fooled. I thought we had legitimately booked our first two weeks, but then I let the joy of being surrounded by some of my favorite people in the whole world wash over me. As it turned out, it was kind of like a dress rehearsal, a run-through.

We put our guests in the rooms they had actually booked. Anna and Raceter were in the honeymoon suite. They all took turns at the front desk and insisted they were paying guests, except for Paul and Janie of course.

Later that day, Marni drove the surrey back to town to pick up Dawn and a couple from Detroit who would spend the rest of the week being treated like part of our crazy family. They not only got their complimentary breakfast buffet but sat down to take part in the loud nightly suppers in the dining room. Everyone was on their own for lunch.

By the end of the week, Carl and Lori Trumbo had more phone numbers in their address book and were planning a visit to Texas. The rest of our guests stayed for another week and it was exhausting. Since the lodge kitchen is where I spent most of my time for those two weeks and for the rest of the summer, it’s a good thing it was one of my favorite rooms on the property.

Leah Cummings showed up every morning and got the work done of three people. I had never been in the Cummings home but I had always pictured a calm, serene abode with Mozart playing softly in the background. Leah’s first two weeks at The Lake Lodge were not quite that.

The place was filled with loud arguments about politics and religion, slamming doors, people running up and down the stairs, calling to each other from the second floor walkway to the lobby, and laughter, lots of boisterous laughter. Leah kept her head down and her hands busy. I wondered what she went home and told her folks.

Marni became the official Lake Lodge tour guide. She introduced everyone to the animals. Cat and the girls were a big hit. And she ran regular tours into town and around the island to see the sights. She did hand over the reins to Race’s dad now and then. I was proud of her.