She towel-dried her short brown hair the best she could and slipped on her tennis shoes.
Finding her purse she dug out a pen and a scrap of paper. She wrote down a list of basic toiletry supplies and added a new hair dryer as well.
She hadn’t seen any cleaning supplies so she added that to the list.
Her phone rang just as she was jotting down kitchen supplies.
“Hello?”
“Carolina, Jennifer said you called. She explained that things at the lake house aren’t like you had expected.”
“No, they’re not,” she admitted, trying to use a firm demeanor. This was no time to waiver. He needed to know just how bad it was. She’d been given the shaft and her attorney needed to make things right somehow. She cleared her throat and went on, “ Most of the bedroom furniture is missing and there’s a leak in the roof that’s dripping into my foyer. No one has tended to the landscaping in months. The house needs painting inside and out and my TV, dryer, and dishes are gone. I had to sleep in my car last night, and was awakened by an angry neighbor who informed me there had been some trouble from the last renters who apparently ran over a someone’s mailbox, and got so loud that the cops were called.
“Hmmm. Chris didn’t disclose that in the documents when I asked about the lake house. He said everything had been kept up and was in good working order.”
“This place is far from good working order. What am I supposed to do? I can’t live in it like it is.”
“Can you stay at a hotel while I get this sorted out?”
“I guess.”
“I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Court is about to be in session and I’ve got to go.”
She stared at the phone after he had hung up.
When she finally stood she went to the laundry room and angrily grabbed her wet clothes. Hopefully the hotel would have a laundry service.
Of course, given her streak of luck, she’d have to wash her items in the lake and hang them on the trees to dry.
Sticking all her belongings in the back of the jeep she climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
Chapter 7
Carolina pulled into the small town of Hopeton and followed the signs for the hotel. She pulled into the front of the rustic-looking Hopeton Motel and grabbed her purse.
She remembered staying at the motel on vacation with her mom and dad when she was little.
The place didn’t seem as charming and cute now as it did back then.
She took a deep breath and made her way to the entrance and opened the door to the office.
Inside, an older man sat on a stool behind the counter, wearing a fishing hat decorated with fishing lures, folded his paper down and looked at her over his glasses. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. I would like a room.”
He cocked his head. “You’re not on the run, are you?”
“Of course not. She patted down her damp hair and gasped. “Why would you say that?”
“Because we don’t get many single women checking in. Mostly families or couples.”
“It’s just me.” She twisted the band on her finger.
His gaze landed on her finger.
“I’m divorced,” she quickly explained.
He looked down at his ledger and flipped a page.
