Joe Hardy said to his father, who sat behind the wheel of the family station wagon. Mr. Hardy chuckled. “The inn is quite isolated from the rest of the coastal communities,” he admitted. “And the nearest airport is fifty miles away. But it’s supposed to be a real nice place, so your mother and I thought we should try it.” Joe stared out the window at the deserted road, which was right next to the ocean. He saw a cliff rising up straight ahead of them, with a large white building sitting right on top. “Is that it?” he asked. Mr. Hardy nodded. “It’s called the Presidents Inn, because supposedly both Ulysses S. Grant and Theodore Roosevelt stayed there at one time.” “It’s beautiful!” Mrs. Hardy cried out as they turned onto the steep road leading up to the hotel. “What a picturesque location!” A few minutes later Mr. Hardy parked the car and the family got out. The inn proved to be a luxurious old place with a vast, sweeping lawn and thousands of blooming flowers still visible in the falling dusk.
