5. Sydney
The morning sunlight sweeps across my cheek and over my eyes, bringing me out of my sleep. I groan as I stretch my body and point my feet, feeling them tug against the quilt that’s still tucked tight around the bottom of the mattress.
Then I spread my limbs out like a starfish, breathing in the subtle smell of wood and pine. For a brief minute, I’m ten again, waking up on this same island with the sound of birds and sunlight bursting through the window, wide awake and anxious to jump out of bed and pull on my boots to see what kind of animals are also up for the day, scurrying to find breakfast of their own.
With a hint of a smile playing on my lips, I remind myself that I’m a twenty-six-year-old woman and not a child and push myself out of the bed. I grab a bright-green sweatshirt—in honor of Graham—out of my suitcase that’s leaning against the loft railing, twist my shoulder-length hair up into a bun, and then trudge down the stairs to the small space that encompasses both the kitchen and the living room.
These individual cabins are small—something I debated making larger when I drew up the renovation plans. However, I ultimately decided to keep the bones of the cabins as they are. We intend to focus on new floors and cabinets, upgraded HVAC and plumbing, and a few other minor cosmetic upgrades on the interiors of each one. In my opinion, the cabins are small by genius design, forcing intimacy and a closeness between the guests—or at the very least, encouraging patrons to get outside the confines of the log walls and explore the island. Neither of which is a bad thing.
I think my grandparents, whose goal was to create a community here, would approve of that decision and of this renovation as a whole. I wouldn’t be doing it if I had doubts.
I slip my toes into the slippers I left by the stairs and turn the Keurig machine on. I’m not much of a coffee drinker, not finding a need for the extra boost of energy most days, but I reach for a mug anyway. There’s something special about breathing in the fresh morning breeze, feeling the wind on my face with a warm mug that keeps my hands snug despite the still-crisp air leftover from the cool temperature of the night. Needless to say, I find coffee to be a necessity when I’m here on the island.
After pouring a splash of creamer in, I bring the mug outside with me, the door creaking as it opens. I sit with bent knees on the swinging bench that hangs along the porch wall. The worn sage-green cushion feels stiff as a rock, but I swing the bench gently anyway, watching through the sparse line of trees as the waves softly lap onto shore. The lake stretches for miles on end, nothing but water in the distance, except the faint outline of Oak Island.
As much as I try to convince myself otherwise when I’m at my apartment in Minneapolis, I do admit that I miss the fresh air and solitude that comes with being up here. There’s a specific peacefulness that I only get when I’m on this island. In the next breath, my eyes wander to the part of the horizon that, if I followed, would take me to the city where my mom currently is. The largest, most painful reason for my grief and general avoidance of this part of Minnesota. All at once, the peacefulness is gone, replaced by the ache that grips my chest.
With a sigh, I watch as a squirrel runs across the dirt path and climbs a tree, letting it distract me momentarily before heading back inside. I drop the mug in the sink, switch out my slippers for hiking boots, and head back out of the cabin in the direction of the main lodge.
I take my time, passing in front of the individual cabins, taking the dirt trail along the shoreline while I bury the persistent ache and focus on the tasks I need to complete today.
“It’s going to be a great day,” I mutter aloud to myself as I plaster on a smile, if nothing else to trick my brain into believing it.
When I get closer, the aroma of Shirley’s bacon leads me directly into the lodge. As I bound up the steps, I spot Blair, Graham’s fiancée, sitting at one of the tables on the patio.
“Sydney!” she exclaims, grinning as she meets me halfway for a hug.
“Ah, Blair. It’s so good to see you.” I squeeze her tightly. I may not make it home often to see her in person, but we’ve built a solid relationship in the time she’s been with my brother. I’m lucky to not only call her my future sister but also my friend.
“I missed you yesterday,” she says, pulling back. “It was my day to be at the law office in Baudette, and by the time I got back, you were already in your cabin for the night.”
“Yeah, I crashed early. I forgot how much this fresh air takes it out of me.” I laugh.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” she says sincerely.
“Me too. What are you working on?” I gesture to her computer and the pile of papers spread out next to it. “Legal stuff?”
“No, actually, I’m working on a little project I’m leading for the lodge.” She smiles bashfully, excitement clearly brimming beneath it, but she’s holding it back for some reason.
“What is it?” I inquire, wanting to know more.
“Graham and I are putting together a youth mental health wellness camp just for kids here on the island,” she says softly, cautiously, as if she’s not yet confident with saying it out loud.
“Really? That’s an amazing idea, Blair,” I gush.
She grins, the tightness of her features loosening. “Thanks. Yeah, I’m pretty excited about it.”
“What do you have planned so far?” I inquire.
“We’ll have daily activities like lakeside meditation, nature walks, journaling, speaking mantras out loud, making vision boards, stuff like that. Our overall goal is to put a focus on teaching them tools to foster their mental health.” She beams, and I can tell how important this is to her.
“When do you start?”
“The first camp is this weekend, actually. It’s fully booked! And don’t worry, we’ll keep everything out of the way of the renovations. You’re starting on the east side of the property, right?”
“Oh, yes, I’m not worried.” I wave a hand to dismiss her concern. “This is really awesome, Blair. It’ll be a great addition to the Ruby Lodge experience.”
“Thanks,” she says just as my stomach loudly grumbles.
“Yikes. I guess I’m hungry.” I cringe.
Blair laughs, waving me away. “Go on inside. Shirley made an amazing breakfast spread this morning for the group of guests that are staying here.”
“Yum. Okay, I’ll catch up with you later.” I wave and smile, noting how seeing Blair has further fueled my good mood, as it always does.
In the dining room, I spot Graham behind the bar.
“Morning, Syd,” he calls out as he pours coffee with one hand and clears plates off the counter with the other.
“Yes, it is,” I say, nearly skipping to the barstool.
“Do you need fresh towels? Is the mattress okay in your cabin?” The crease between his brow deepens in the way it always does when he’s overwhelmed with taking care of everyone around him.
“It’s just fine. Stop worrying about me, please,” I say, but he doesn’t seem convinced. It’s not until he catches sight of Blair through the window that he fully relaxes, a calmness overtaking him as he keeps his eyes on her.
I smile contentedly, sweeping my own gaze across the full room of guests until I catch sight of one particular brooding face in the back corner that immediately sours my mood.
“Ugh. What’s he doing here?” I snap my head back to look at Graham.
“We’re on an island, Syd,” he says pointedly. “And we’re the only place serving food. He’s allowed to eat, isn’t he?”
I push out my bottom lip as I contemplate how I can tweak the obvious answer to his rhetorical question out of spite.
“Of course he is,” Graham replies for me.
“Well, I don’t like it.” I pout.
“You don’t have to,” he says with a smile before reaching for the rolled-up plans tucked under the counter. “I’ll lay these out. You go make yourself a plate.”
With a sigh, I twist my body in the direction of the buffet that’s set up along the inner wall and follow my nose toward it. It only takes me a few steps to notice that Cole is now at the far end of the buffet, scooping scrambled eggs onto his plate.
Ugh. I did not prepare myself for an interaction with him so early in the day.
I falter, momentarily looking for the nearest escape, but ultimately, I resist the urge to turn around like I desperately want to. If I turn back now, everyone in here would see me avoiding him and therefore backing down…and I’m definitely not backing down.
With an internal grumble and a huff, I surge forward, determined to be the bigger person here.
“You’re going the wrong way,” I say, maybe a little too clipped, grabbing a plate from the left side of the table. His head doesn’t move from where it’s angled down at the food, leading me to believe he either already saw me here, or he’s not surprised—or fazed—by my presence.
When he doesn’t say anything back, I roll my eyes and shrug my shoulders. “Fine, have it your way.”
I use the tongs to grab a muffin and then move on to the next dish.
“Hey, would you like to be included in our team meeting so you have a rough timeline on when we’d like you to fork over the keys to your place?” I say sweetly, our shoulders coming slowly together like a magnet as we both move in opposite directions down the buffet line.
At the very last second before our bodies would actually touch, I shift my body as he does the same, leaving us squared off next to the hash browns. His surly gaze peers down as he towers over me. The way he rolls his lips together makes it look as though he’s trying to hold back his words, but he finally says a curt and simple, “No.”
“That’s too bad. You know, it’s a shame you can’t see that it’s a great day to sell a cabin,” I say. “The sun is shining. You could pack everything you own in that tiny little cabin and fly away in the sky before nightfall. I could even be talked into helping you pack.”
He inhales, brows lifting as if he’s contemplating my offer and about to concede…before his face falls right back to where it was. Cold and unemotional. “Nah, I’d rather not.”
His teasing irks me, and I clamp my lips together to ward off saying the thoughts that come to mind out loud.
We square off for a few more silent seconds, each one tinged with growing animosity and disdain, until he dips his gaze, slowly raking his eyes over me, head to toe. To my utter annoyance, my body tingles under his intense scrutiny.
Traitor.
When his eyes reach mine, he holds them there for a mere second before turning nonchalantly to walk away. My nose scrunches together as I throw an imaginary dagger at the back of his head, then I spin on my heels and stalk back to the bar.
“Can you do me a favor and not kill him please?” Graham asks pointedly while leaning over the counter, clearly having watched our whole exchange. “I’m not well versed in the high school football handbook anymore, but I’m guessing it’s frowned upon to let your little sister murder your former teammate.”
“Hey, I’m not the one with the bad attitude.” I shrug, sliding onto the stool, doing my best to mentally shake the frustration off.
“Whatever you say.” He shakes his head with a smirk while he points to the plans laid out in front of me. “Alright, fill me in on your meeting with Neal yesterday.”
I pop a bite of muffin in my mouth and nod. “It went well. He went ahead and put in a request for permits to start breaking ground on the east and north sides of the property, which should take a couple weeks, but in the meantime, his team will be out here on Monday to walk around and see what they can do before those permits go through. They’ll prep the job site and solidify when they can start bringing equipment over via the barge. Stuff like that.”
“And you’re sure we can still keep operations running while this whole thing is happening?” He doesn’t look convinced, despite our many conversations about it.
“Absolutely. At least for the first phase, when they’ll be working on the addition in the back. Everything will be zoned off as we go, so the guests will have designated areas to stick to on the property—and it will get messy around here—but otherwise, the crew will do their best to stay out of your way.”
“Okay.”
“When we get to phase two, which is the main part of the lodge, then we’ll need to close up for a while since we won’t have a working kitchen, but that shouldn’t take too long. Then once the lodge is fully functioning, we can open back up to guests! We’ll just close each cabin down one by one as we work on them individually.”
“Okay.” He nods his head, his features relaxing, and I feel a surge of pride that he trusts me to lead this whole thing. I can’t help but be overwhelmed with gratitude to even have this opportunity at all.
I take a bite of scrambled eggs and continue on, pointing out how the new state-of-the-art kitchen will be laid out and where the new library and workout room will go. All the while, as I talk, I have to put effort into ignoring the faintest sensation that a pair of eyes is burning into the back of my head.