And the next thing on her to-do list was to check the antivenom stock.

“Excuse me,” she called to a young man in the ubiquitous attire of T-shirt, khaki shorts, and of course, hiking boots, who looked like he knew what he was doing. The fact that he was pushing a cart loaded with linens and other household-type items was something of a giveaway.

He turned, his dark eyes alight. “Yo. Help you?”

“I hope so. I’m Lily Davenport. I’m supposed to have a room up here somewhere.”

His thick dark brows drew down a little over heavy lids, edged with ridiculously long, gorgeous eyelashes.

“We’ve got a Dr. Davenport coming.”

“That would be me.”

“Ha, right. Sorry about that.”

“No problem. The room?”

“Middle one down there on the right,” he called as he pushed his cart in the opposite direction. “Nice to meet you, Doc.”

The middle one. There were six doors on the right side of the hall. Which one was the middle—the third one from the near end, or the fourth? Might as well try the third. The door opened, the room showed no signs of occupancy, and the windows across from the door let in air so fresh she could taste it as it blew her hair away from her face. The bed, a queen against one wall, was a simple affair with a plain oak headboard and a three-drawer bedside table on one side and a partially open closet on the other. A small chair and desk sat against the fourth wall with a bureau of oak to match the other furniture crouching nearby, and a closed door beside that. Lily’s pulse thudded.

Please let that door lead to a bathroom. She hadn’t even considered that she might be sharing communal bathroom facilities. She dropped her duffel by the bed and opened the mystery door…that blessedly led into a small but efficiently arranged bathroom with all the necessary items, including a reasonably spacious shower stall. No tub. But then there was the lake. She could always swim, her favorite form of exercise—something else she’d stopped doing.

Of course, there were the snakes. Did they swim? She shuddered. Not something she wanted to think about or even know the answer to. Why did freshwater lakes have to be populated with so many unsavory things? The ocean was so much more…anonymous. She snorted. Thunder Ridge camp did not afford anonymity in any fashion—not with communal eating, shared lodgings, and people everywhere. She hadn’t been surrounded by so many people who didn’t resemble exhausted automatons in months. Her world was suddenly taking on color and…life.

Her heart twisted. After so much death and despair, she wasn’t sure she was ready for all of this. She took a deep breath. But she was here. So she’d do what had always worked—she’d attack the task in front of her, and then move on to the next.

She unpacked, filled the bureau with her mostly newly purchased camp clothes, and arranged her bathroom articles. Now she needed a plan. After endless days of barely having enough time to eat and shower, facing an afternoon without responsibility seemed foreign. She’d start with checking the supplies in the clinic. She paused at the door, turned back, and put on sunscreen.