Chapter Thirty #2
Kit and Beth would plan the special events—the lakeside bonfires, the Wednesday night dinners in the annex—and Beth would assist with cooking on those days, depending on her energy level.
While Beth seemed a bit miffed at the idea that her sister and her niece thought her to be too fragile to do much else, they’d assured her that she was welcome to pitch in on any other activity as her health permitted, but they thought it best not to overload her during this first foray into running the camp.
Earlier Abby had suggested that they ask Beth to create the memorial garden on the site of the former cabin eleven, but Kit had balked.
She already had plans for that, plans that included the plants she’d dug from her own garden and brought to Maine.
For reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt protective of that small plot of ground.
They did agree that Beth could run a coffee hour on Sunday mornings, so that campers who checked in on Saturday could meet their neighbors for however long they’d be staying.
“Too bad we don’t have Ned here to bake for us,” Beth said. “But I can probably get him to give up his so-called secret recipes and do the baking myself. We’re not talking about a cast of thousands here. Just eleven cabins, right?”
“Well, yeah, this year. Next year—not so sure,” Abby replied.
Kit sighed. “What now?”
“You know those cabins across the lake?” Abby asked.
“Across the lake?” Beth appeared confused. “I never saw cabins on the other side of the lake.”
“That’s because they are hidden behind all those trees and wild growth,” Abby told her.
“If you are referring to the ones Liam said are falling apart because they haven’t been used in years, I doubt they can be rehabbed,” Kit reminded Abby.
“Mom, don’t challenge me to prove you wrong,” Abby teased.
“No, you’re right. I looked them all over two days ago, and they’re mostly rotted and there’s too much water damage to salvage them.
Chief Hal said they were built as hunting cabins, bare bones.
But we can rebuild them and make them a little nicer than the ones on this side of the lake. ”
“By nicer, you mean—what?” Kit asked.
“I mean more amenities. Larger refrigerators, nicer furniture, more in the way of decor. Central air, soaking tubs—”
Beth frowned. “I thought people came to camps like this one to get away from all that. I thought they wanted a rustic experience.”
“Some do. Some want to hike and fish and do all the water things, then come back to their cabin and have a leisurely bath and a nice cocktail. We can provide both, just not this year,” Abby told them.
“And maybe not even next. I think we need to take things slowly,” Kit cautioned.
“Maybe we should send our campers home with questionnaires asking what else they’d like to experience on their next visit. ‘Would you prefer a cabin with air-conditioning, a screened-in porch . . .’” Beth suggested.
“That’s going to be standard with the renovations we’re doing this year. I hear the bugs here in the summer are brutal.” Abby held up a sheet of paper. “I already have a modest example of the sort of questions we should ask. I’ll email them to you both.”
“Why can’t we just see the paper you’re holding up?” Beth asked.
“Because I’ve doodled on it and written in the margins and it’s sloppy,” Abby explained.
Kit took the paper from her daughter’s hand.
“You’ve doodled on every piece of paper you’ve ever written on.
Same little five-petaled flower.” She looked at Beth.
“You have no idea how many times I had to have her rewrite her homework because she covered the margins in these little violet-like flowers.”
“Old habits die hard, Mom. So what do you think of my list?”
Kit scanned the items quickly. “I think there’s something to be said about doing more, offering more when we’re in a position to do so.
I can’t see us affording to put that much into the camp the first year or two.
Keep in mind the boathouse needs a new roof, and if we want to keep the snowmobiles in there, the roof is going to have to be replaced. ”
“I’ll have some money from the sale of my house, Mom. It’s amazing how housing prices have increased, especially in areas that have good school districts and charming homes. If the Realtor is correct, I should walk away from the house with some serious cash.”
“I will, too,” Beth piped up. “I already signed a listing agreement with a Realtor. She’s arranging for some interior painting to be done, and she’s going to oversee the staging, but for the most part, I’m done with that house.”
“What about all your stuff, Aunt Beth?”
“I’m having some furniture shipped up, and I brought the things I knew I wanted to keep, but the rest of it will go in a house sale. I contacted a woman who runs sales on the Main Line, and she’s going to come in and do all the pricing and the selling for me.”
Abby fell silent for a bit, then said, “Remember that white wicker set you had out on your little balcony? Do you think we could have that for the front porch here at the house?”
“Of course. You’re going to have to figure out how to get it here, though.
I won’t be making that drive again. It took me two and a half days to get here.
I didn’t expect it to be so tiring, but driving exhausted me.
I had to stop a lot and I had to stay in motels two nights.
But I got here, and I did it myself, at my own speed. ”
“Proud of you, sissy,” Kit told her.
“Amen, Aunt Beth.”
“So, if you think of anything else you might want from that house for the inn, let me know, and I’ll have it put aside until someone can drive it up here.”
Kit could think of a few things at her house that might be nice, but she’d have to wait until Russ got back from his travels to discuss taking them.
Even though she was pretty sure he’d never miss anything other than the TV and his favorite chair, she had made a promise to herself to keep everything honest and fair, so taking things while he was away felt a bit shady to her.
“Ned wants to make it up here sooner rather than later, assuming he can find someone competent to watch over the café,” Abby noted.
“I think he wants to meet Elly,” Kit said.
Abby nodded. “In which case he’d better come soon, because her ship leaves in about ten days. But that’s Ned’s problem.”
“So any other suggestions or ideas?” Kit looked from Abby to Beth.
“There is one last thing I’ve been thinking about,” Abby told them.
“Should we be scared?” her mother asked.
Ignoring her, Abby said, “Merch. We need to offer some merch.”
Kit frowned. “Merch?”
“Merchandise,” Abby explained.
“I know what merch means. I meant, what kind of things are you talking about?”
“Nothing crazy, Mom. T-shirts and coffee mugs, maybe a tote bag to start. Then we can see if people ask for something else. And maybe have postcards made up that they can send to their friends.”
“I think it’s a great idea.” Beth’s face brightened. “And we can have them take photos on their phones wearing the shirts when they get home and offer something as a reward if they post it on social media.”
Abby grinned broadly. “Aunt Beth! Listen to you!”
“Hey, I’ve been selling the Caffeine Connection T-shirts for the past five years.”
“Great. You’re in charge of the merch,” Kit proclaimed. “Now, anything else? I hear the pitter-patter of small feet upstairs, so if you have anything else to add, make it quick!”
“We should send out a newsletter-type thing to everyone who stayed here for the last ten years, up until Maxine had to call it quits two years ago. Let them know about Maxine’s passing, tell them our plans for the camp, that sort of thing. Maybe even tell them about the connection to Miles Easton.”
“Perfect, Aunt Beth. I nominate you the official newsletter editor.”
“I accept.” Beth turned to Kit. “What do you think? We’ll introduce ourselves, maybe include a photo so they know who we are?”
“I love it.” Abby got up and headed for the steps and her son. “Mom?”
“Always good to let people know who you are,” she agreed.
Kit hoped by the time the camp opened, she’d know who she was.