Chapter Three
Rook
The mailbox for my mountain retreat was at the bottom of my driveway, far far away from the cabin.
But managing my investments didn’t take long, so each afternoon, I trotted down the gravel road to see what exciting junk mail had arrived.
Why, one grocery store ad offered a full dollar off the brand of dishwashing detergent I purchased. Worth. It.
Not.
But it was something to do. Pathetic though it may be. I’d been putting off making travel plans lately because I had a feeling that seeing Paris and Rome alone would be about as much fun as sitting in front of a fire without anyone to talk to.
Who would I marvel about great works of art with or laugh about a shared experience in a taxi-ride-gone-wrong with?
I’d even reached out to my siblings in desperation, but they were all mated, employed, and not free to travel with me.
Somehow, by the time I finished speaking to each of them, I’d agreed to send them money.
I didn’t mind. But it didn’t do anything to solve my issue.
On this particular day, I strolled down the drive taking in the autumnal beauty of the aspen trees. They were my favorite deciduous tree partly for the magnificent leaf colors and partly because they made that cool rattling sound.
It was certainly more entertaining than the mail I was likely to be carting back up to the house—or possibly tossing in the little bin I’d placed next to the box for depositing all those flyers and offers.
With the chill that autumn in the mountains never seemed to quite lose, even in the middle of a sunny day, I considered shifting to my panther for the trip down.
But the box stood at the side of the highway, and while I wasn’t too worried about someone seeing my cat out here in the forest, I’d once been standing sorting the mail, tossing away the junk, when a car full of elderly ladies drove by.
Having shifted back for the process, I was of necessity nude, and I either gave them a thrill or a shock.
Since such attention might lead to some sort of visit from the local human authorities, I chose to walk down in two-legged form until such time as the bear box I’d ordered arrived.
I planned to tuck it into the trees and leave sweats and shoes in there.
On this particular day, a light breeze swept down from the peaks, bringing the scent of the snow that had fallen there over the weekend and rattling the aspen leaves.
If only I had a family, I could live here in contentment, but as it stood, something had to change.
And it seemed that change would be moving to a larger urban area where even if Fate did not grant me a mate, I might find a companion, an omega willing to settle.
Opening the mailbox, I almost stuffed everything right in the trash, but an envelope caught my eye.
Fancy writing, heavier than usual paper…
Probably one of those ads geared toward donors from some organization, and I already had my donations all preset for the year.
Still, there was something different about this one, the wax seal on the back was quite over the top.
So, I tucked it in my jacket pocket and carted it up to the house to at least glance at.
Once settled in my chair in front of the fire, I slit the envelope and pulled out a sheet of heavy stationery.
Not a request for a donation or someone suggesting I might want to sell my home.
Not even one of those annoying investment opportunities.
Instead, I received an invitation to spend a weekend, all-expenses paid, at somewhere called the Bearclaw Inn.
My mind immediately leapt to time-shares, but I had nothing more important to do, so instead of tossing the invitation in the fire and forgetting about it, I picked up my phone and entered the inn’s name in a search engine.
Then crawled down the rabbit hole after it.
The Bearclaw Inn had the reputation for being a romantic getaway of sorts. According to many former visitors, those who were asked to spend time there never left without their fated mate. And I’d been invited.
Suddenly all the angst I’d been feeling transformed into hope.
Maybe I hadn’t totally ruined my chance to have a life after all.
Fate might not have abandoned me. Of course, I’d go!
And not only for the weekend. Travel had also been on my agenda, and I might as well start with some of that.
I’d make a week of it. Not staying at the inn the whole time, of course.
The invitation was for the weekend, but there would be other accommodations and I could do some exploring.
Partly just for fun but mostly because if I stayed here and waited, I’d lose it.
This was the start of everything.