I make two huge coffee cakes and slide them into the oven. As I slice cantaloupe and strawberries, I hear a coffee cup clinking in the dining room. I dry my hands and stick my head out the kitchen door. A middle-aged man in jeans and a hoodie with Ohio State University emblazoned on it is stirring creamer into his coffee. An iPad is in the crook of his arm.

“Good morning, Mr. Donovan,” I whisper.

“Morning, Adie Lou,” he says. “And, please, call me Steve.”

He turns, takes a big sip of his coffee and continues. “You’re up early.”

“Breakfast,” I explain.

“Already smells amazing,” he says.

“You’re up early, too,” I say. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby,” he says. “The sound of the lake is like a sleeping pill. Do you mind if I sit in the living room and do some work while I drink my coffee? Thought the moose might keep me company while my wife sleeps.”

I smile. “His name’s Darryl,” I say. “He’s very quiet, but he’s great company. And he’ll look over your work when you’re done. Those eyes catch everything.”

Steve laughs. “You have a beautiful inn.”

The emotion in his voice catches me off guard. “Thank you,” I say, my heart quickening its pace. “I appreciate that.”

“Shame you have to work while the rest of the world is on vacation,” Steve says.

“What about you?” I ask. “This is supposed to be a respite from the real world.”

“Is there ever a respite from the real world?” he asks, his voice tinged with sadness. “This place reminds me of being a kid. My grandparents had a little cabin in Wisconsin. I loved it there. Used to go up for most of the summer. Swam, fished, read books, skipped rocks. Dreamed I’d be an author, writing books there.”

“What happened?”

“My dad sold the cabin after his parents died,” he says. “Dream kind of died along with it.” Steve looks at me. “Real world came calling.” He stops. “Is this what you always dreamed of doing?”

“I wanted to be Wonder Woman,” I say, “but this is turning out to be pretty darn close.”

Steve shakes his head, a big smile on his face. “I admire you, Adie Lou.” He nods toward his iPad. “I have a hundred emails to answer. They just keep regenerating. They’re like Gremlins. Remember that movie?”

I laugh and nod, and then sniff the air.

“Excuse me, I think my coffee cake is about ready. You get some work done. Enjoy the quiet, and let me know if you need anything.”