The Inn at Angel Island by Thomas Kinkade

job. I mean, clearing out all my aunt’s old belongings will be. I started yesterday, and I’ve hardly finished one closet. Claire North is helping me,” Liza added, recalling that Claire was a member of the reverend’s congregation.
    “That’s a big help to have. You’re lucky.” His blue eyes seemed to twinkle behind his glasses.
    Everyone Liza met thought so well of Claire. Fran Tulley, Daniel Merritt, and now, Reverend Ben. Not to mention her aunt, who had loved Claire dearly.
    “She’s a very hard worker,” Liza replied. “I know she did so much for my aunt. Especially . . . at the end.”
    When I should have been there, she nearly added.
    “She and your aunt were very close,” Ben agreed. “More like friends than anything else.”
    Liza suddenly had the urge to confide in Reverend Ben about her own relationship with her aunt, the way she had neglected Aunt Elizabeth and disappointed her when she had needed Liza most. But of course she couldn’t say that. She hardly knew the man. “Did you see my aunt much last winter?” she asked instead.
    “I came out and visited her once a week or so. I try to keep up with all the folks at our church who are shut-in for one reason or another. She didn’t leave the inn much once she caught bronchitis. Then the pneumonia set in,” he said in a somber tone. He looked up at Liza and caught her eye. “I will tell you that Elizabeth rarely seemed down or dispirited. She seemed to think it was just a passing thing, like a bad cold. Or at least that’s what she kept telling me.”
    “That’s how it was when we talked over the phone. That’s what she told me, too,” Liza replied. “Now I wonder if she knew more but didn’t want me to worry.”
    “I don’t think so. I don’t think Elizabeth ever believed anything was seriously wrong. Or that she wouldn’t be up and around by the spring, getting the inn ready for her guests again.”
    Liza took that in. Her aunt had never expected to die. So don’t beat yourself up if you didn’t come out here to visit in time.
    Liza blinked. She felt her eyes tearing up and wondered if it was the wind or simply the conversation.
    “Your aunt was a woman of great faith,” Reverend Ben continued quietly. “She lived a full life and felt satisfied. I honestly don’t think she feared death. I know that even at the very end she was resolved and at peace.”
    Liza swallowed hard to keep from crying. “Thank you for telling me that, Reverend,” she said finally.
    He gazed at her a moment but didn’t reply. Then he turned his attention back to the fishing pole, which he had stuck in the sand for safekeeping.
    “How long will you be staying at the inn?” he asked.
    “About ten or twelve days more. Depending on how things go, I guess. Fran Tulley is our real estate agent. She seems to think she can find a buyer quickly. The island has become a hot spot, she says, with all the improvements going on.”
    “A hot spot, eh?” Reverend Ben smiled. “Well, maybe for around here it would qualify. But the inn is a beautiful old building. I imagine there are many fans of historic houses who would be interested.”
    “I hope so,” Liza said simply. She yanked her gloves up a bit, so that they covered the cuffs of her pullover. The setting sun was almost touching the dark blue ocean, and the air had grown even colder. “I guess I’d better get back to the inn. Claire will be wondering what happened to me. It was nice seeing you, Reverend.”
    “Good to see you, Liza. Come by the church and say hello if you have time,” he added. “If I can help you with anything during your visit, please let me know.”
    He was gently offering her a chance to talk more about her aunt and her loss, she thought.
    “Thanks. Maybe I will.” Liza smiled at him, then she turned and started back in the way she had come.
    Reverend Ben was a nice man. She enjoyed talking with him, even though she had never been a big churchgoer. Her parents had not