I was just a kid when Dad bought the Four Pines Motel. He called it a "diamond in the rough," but I couldn't see much promise in the shabby building with the mint green paint peeling off the siding and the sign that lit up only three out of fourteen letters. All credit to Dad; within a year he had it looking like new and running at full occupancy practically every night of the year. He even had to turn people away during peak season.   "The key's the location," he'd say, pointing at the old roadmap framed in the office. "Four Pines is nestled smack dab in the middle distance between three