The Last Resort: A Step Back in Time

By Susan Burt Wojcik

The Last Resort, a step back in time, is the story of two teenagers coming home from college and stumbling upon a unique 1904 historic inn. Nestled in the woods of southwest Michigan, they fell in love with it in the twenty short minutes it took to look around with the handyman.

Fourteen years later, God mysteriously led them back. Did he purposely bring them there on the exact day when the fourth owners needed to sell it? Had he prepared them for a time such as this?

Married and the parents of two, they had to make a choice. Could their family life and summers during school breaks be spent serving others instead of relaxing themselves? Were they willing to commute from another state where they lived and worked in order to wait on other people while they vacationed? Could they afford the financial risk and personal time and desire to do this?

What did a teacher and a lawyer know about the hospitality business, lodging of families, and preparing three meals a day for an R&R-seeking crowd? See what happens and how it turned out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098074173

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The Last Resort

A Step Back in Time

Susan Burt Wojcik

Copyright © 2021 by Susan Burt Wojcik

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Love at First Sight

Dating and the Long Wait

Just Another Day in the Life

And Life Goes On

Let’s Talk This Over

The Neophytes

Welcome to the Real World

The Teen Years

Bob Duck

The Missing Links

Opal, a True Gem

The Power and the Glory

Help Wanted

From Morocco with Love

The Spokes in the Wheel

Good Help

The Decade of Acquisition

On Beautiful Lake Cora

The Oak Cove Dinner Bell

The Fun House

One of Michigan’s Oldest and Smallest Resorts

The Meal Plan, the Menu

Lake Cora, High and Low

This May Be the Last Chapter of the Last Resort

What They Said

What We Say: Our Years of Love

Chapter 1

Love at First Sight

There it was, needing paint and a little TLC the first time we saw it.

We were eighteen and nineteen years old, heading back to Chicago for spring break from Ann Arbor, where we were students at the University of Michigan.

Bob had always loved to fish, and it was winter and the very first time the wonderful new highway I-94 was open from Chicago to Detroit. The year was 1960. We saw a lake through the bare trees as we neared the Decatur, Michigan, exit. Now visible, Lake Cora was to the north.

Let’s try to drive around that lake next time we pass by here, he said. So we did at Spring break. We drove up and down every road, thinking we could drive around it, but each time, we encountered a dead end and had to turn around. Eventually, we traveled down a road which said Public Access and ended up in the DNR boat launching ramp. Right next door was a huge white antiquated building. At the time, the public drive extended toward the back of a large old white framed building and beyond up a hill.

Oh, let’s go look and see what that is please? I said. There she sat, as an elegant lady in all her stately splendor of years’ past. To our left, one could see the kitchen had been added on years after the original building and many changes had been made. To the right was an historic small building which we assumed was a storage building and there were other white buildings within view.

As we drove a short way toward it, a gentleman came out and said, May I help you?

"What is this place?" we asked.

This is Oak Cove Resort. That is the lodge and that, he said pointing, is the icehouse.

Wow, how old is this place? I said.

I don’t know exactly, he said. "Some say turn of the century, others say 1910. I do know they harvested the ice from the lake in the winter and stored in this-here icehouse for use all summer. They were only open in the summer, but the ice? It lasted till fall."

Really! we said.

Oh, sure. They’d saw big chunks of ice and haul it up here by horse and chain, cut it up into manageable hunks that they could lift, about one hundred pounds, I reckon, probably a foot square. Then they’d pack it in the Ice House with saw dust and close the door. Notice the thickness of the door and walls. It was their refrigerator and freezer.

That is so neat, one or the other of us said, and we thanked him for taking the time with us to show us a bit of history we’d never known or thought about before. People were vacationing in 1910 or before, way off our radar. We were into the now. Though I had always had a love for antiques and old stuff and had collected historic clothing and other things since I was ten years old, I did not know why or ever question. I just loved antiques.

As we left, we proceeded to the driveway. We passed a lovely swimming pool, several cottages, and other outbuildings. We were definitely in the woods, and the very long driveway gently curved through them. It was very distinctive and beautiful in the lush spring foliage. It was a memorable excursion and one we cherished and enjoyed. Boy, we’d loved those moments and were so glad we’d decided to get off the expressway and try to take a drive around that lake.

*****

When we met, Bob was a sophomore on an esteemed football scholarship. I was a freshman with Daddy footing the bill, lucky that I got in as an out-of-state student with a B+ average. That was the least of the differences between us.

He was from a hardworking poor family, the eldest of seven children, and the first one in his family to attend college. My mother had graduated from Yale University and was very proud of it. There were few women who could claim that in the day. My father had gone to local Wheaton College and University of Illinois as his father had died when he was sixteen, so it was a struggle for my grandmother, but all five of her children managed to finish.

Bob was Catholic; I was Protestant. He was a city boy; I was a small town girl from a town where almost everyone knew each other. They were Democrats; we were staunch Republicans.

We met in my dormitory, Mary Markley Hall, which housed 1,500 young women. Bob and his roommate were coming over to visit some Jewish young women they’d met. The girls asked me and my best dorm friend, Bea, to answer their phone and get rid of the cat licks that afternoon. The boys asked if we’d like to come and talk to them in the public lounge, and we said, Why not? So that was it. Bea and I headed toward the dormitory’s public living room.

I was engaged in a lively conversation with John, the roommate, as he was in The Speech School as was I. I glanced over at Bob, and he was rubbing his knee.

What’s wrong with your knee? I asked, turning now toward him.

He said, I had a football injury. It was operated on.

Really! I said. When?

It was May 18th.

And it still hurts? This was October 26.

It’s still wrapped, he said, pulling up his pant leg as though he thought I didn’t believe him.

What a nice calf, I thought but didn’t say.

Would you like to go out to a party tomorrow night? he said, looking straight at me.

What day of the week is it?

"Thursday, why? What difference does that make?"

Well, I can’t go out on a Thursday night, I said.

Why not?

Because it’s a ‘school night.’ I don’t go out on school nights.

What’s a school night?

That’s a weeknight when you study and go to bed early so you can get up and go to school in the morning! I was thinking, wrinkling my brow, Doesn’t everybody know that? I was from a very conservative campus town and the home of Billie Graham’s alma mater, Wheaton College, and my teachers and my mother had me trained well or brainwashed me.

Well then, can you meet me at the library after lunch and study together?

Oh, I said, "that would be fine!"

So the first date was planned. We met and studied and talked and talked and walked from the fourth floor to the ground floor to say goodbye. We were out of breath but not from the walking. I had to be at the dorm for dinner at five thirty. So did he, but we could hardly manage to go our separate ways. I think that was love at first date.

He said, I’ll call you.

And he did again and again. So now we were dating, and all the differences in our backgrounds didn’t seem to matter. We’d walked to church together (his church), we’d go to the movies (my choices), out for coffee, study together. After weekend evening dates, he’d drop me off at the appointed 11:00 p.m. curfew, which was strictly enforced with a bed check, and we hugged at the door and touched our cheeks together (he didn’t even have to shave yet). His face was so smooth, and he smelled so good, it was difficult to say good night.

I’ll call you on the pay phone number in half an hour. He’d run home to be in time, and I’d take the elevator to my eighth floor room. I hated elevators, but the practical side of me took it up so I could hurriedly get ready for bed, stuff pillows under the covers to look like I was in bed sleeping, and run down the eight flights of stairs to the basement telephone to wait. Waiting alone there for the phone to ring, I thought, This is crazy! But he was always on time.

After a few weeks of dating and phoning (calls which lasted well past our bedtimes), he said to me just before hanging up, You’re the girl I’m going to marry, you know.

You hardly know me! I exploded in surprise and glee.

I know enough, he answered quietly.

Chapter 2

Dating and the Long Wait

We had a long courtship. Let’s just say, there were ups and downs. The families met each intended future member, and neither was elated.

Bob’s Grandma said, Oh, Bobbie, why don’t you marry a nice Polish girl who knows how to cook and clean?

My mother said, He seems a nice clean-looking boy, he smells good. My dad seemed to like him, but their friends said such things as: You can do better than that and "You’ll have many more suitors before you settle down." Nice things like, always great to have encouragement. But anyway, thoughts of marriage were four years away as I knew that the buck stopped for college if I ever left home and we both knew that our first goal was to get the education under our belts.

It wasn’t always good, and sometimes, we broke up and decided to date others just to make sure we really loved each other and that was a miserable time for both of us. I even went to the University of Hawaii with four girlfriends for a summer semester to get away from him to see how it felt. Toward the end of that session, the pay phone outside our apartment rang, and I answered it on about the eighth ring. I’d just had my tonsils out, and I could hardly talk. It was Bob, and he said, Susan, I just wanted to tell you that I got into law school at University of Michigan, and I’ll be waiting for you when you decide to come home. I actually had been taking cooking classes and conversational Japanese in Oahu and had considered going to Japan to study more Japanese cooking. But that phone call made me reassess my plans. I was home in two weeks!

Our last year of my being