Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rush
I liked the outdoors.
Some of my favorite parts about being on the run with my siblings, hiding out after jobs, were all the places Kingston had managed to snag for us, usually in the middle of nowhere in rustic cabins while we recharged, planned our next moves.
After settling permanently in Navesink Bank, getting a job, setting up roots, spending time with my ever-growing family, I hadn't had time for things like going to the woods, enjoying the outdoors as much as I once had.
So when I got the invite from Fee about the retreat, I had pounced.
Normally, the idea of a work retreat that would likely involve shit like trust-building exercises would have had me rolling my eyes, looking for any possible excuse not to go.
But because of the location, and the fact that it was a free trip I was getting paid to go on, I saw no reason to miss out.
Besides, the work shit would likely only take a couple hours out of each day, leaving me free to wander around, enjoy the outdoors.
It was a sweet deal.
Traveling by plane had been a new experience for me. We'd always moved by car. And me, especially, I was the car guy. In particular, I had been the getaway car driver for the others in our old life. So planes had never been a part of my life before.
The next time I took a vacation, I promised myself it would be a road trip of some sort, giving me some much-missed time behind the wheel, seeing sights, going on my own schedule instead of along with one with hundreds of other people.
But, for now, this retreat would do.
I'd pulled up to find one car parked, not being overly surprised.
I tended to be someone who got places early.
The women I worked with were always perpetually on time or often late, rushing in talking about their kids or their spouses or running errands.
Fee didn't exactly run a tight ship about things like that, so it wasn't unusual that the others had chosen to be on later flights to coincide with whatever they had on their schedules for the day.
Me, I always liked being early.
As did whoever had the rental car I parked beside.
Or it was a host or the owner of the lodge.
I was half-surprised to walk in and not be greeted.
But I followed the lights until I found Katie standing there in the kitchen, eyes wide, looking like she was ready to plunge the knife into my heart.
She was maybe the last person I expected to see there.
She'd never been at any of the events around the office. Not the Christmas parties or the times everyone went out for food and drinks.
Bookish, quiet, I figured she wasn't the social sort.
I guess I thought she would have come up with some excuse not to be with all of us for five days in the woods, away from all her creature comforts.
But there she was, ready to gut a mountain cannibal in her retro MTV t-shirt and big sweater that swallowed up her whole body.
She was a short and very slight thing, looking damn near breakable most days, with light brown hair, brown eyes, and oversized glasses on her soft-featured face.
I overheard Angela, one of the women at the office, refer to her as "mousy" before, which was a shitty comment both then and now, since it was clearly not meant as a compliment in any way.
One thing I learned about working with women was they could be catty as fuck even when they had no reason to be.
And there was no reason for the name-calling. Katie was cute in a very understated way. Actually, now that I was really looking at her—without her flitting around like she did at the office—it was actually fair to say she was pretty.
It was almost as though she covered up in baggy clothes and big glasses and by never staying still for a few moments as a way to somehow mask that fact about her.
Typically, she was on her way out of the office when I was making my way in, making it so we rarely were around each other for more than a few minutes.
Even when we were, though, she was always on the move, always doing something, rarely stopping to talk to anyone that I could see.
Then, quietly, saying goodbye so low that only the people nearest to her could hear, then rushing out of the building.
It would be interesting to spend a little time with her actually. We'd worked at the same place for years. I'd maybe only spoken a handful of sentences to her. And she, even fewer to me.
I imagined once everyone else showed up, she would cling to her closer friends, and we wouldn't speak again.
So I was going to go ahead and take advantage of the couple of minutes of privacy.
"Alright," I said, nodding, when we made it into the great room where the walls were decorated with the heads of hunted animals. "You're right," I added, looking over at her. "It's creepy," I concluded.
"I hope we don't have to do a lot of the team-building exercises in there," she said, backing out of the room, eyes sad. "I don't like that. Heads on the wall," she added, grimacing.
"Can't say I'm much of a fan either," I agreed cringing at the endless glass eyes, leading her into the next room, a game room of sorts with a pool table and a stack of board games. "More up your alley?" I asked, waving toward the board games.
"I, ah, no. I don't, you know, have a lot of friends. And you kind of, well, need them to, you know, play games. Oh, a hot tub," she declared, desperate to steer the conversation away from her personal admission. As though it was any kind of shock.
I barely knew the woman, but it didn't surprise me that she tended to be alone. Everything about her suggested she was introverted and shy.
I had a sort-of in-law, Dusty, who was similar. Kept to herself, riddled with anxiety, getting overwhelmed easily in family gatherings. She was someone who thrived in small groups where she didn't feel judged or pressured.
While nothing about Katie suggested she was agoraphobic, there were hints of those same anxiety issues that had her tripping over her words, avoiding solid eye-contact, changing the conversation away from anything personal if she bothered to speak at all.
It wasn't like I imagined she hosted a weekly game night or went out drinking and singing karaoke with her closest friends.
"Did you bring a suit?" I asked, following behind her to look out at the hot tub on the back porch, big enough for six people comfortably.
"I packed for five days in Washington state in mid-fall, so, ah, no," she said, shaking her head, seeming to notice I had moved in behind her shoulder, jerking away like a startled rabbit, moving further to the side.
"I, ah, I wonder what is keeping everyone else," she said, making a wide arch around the room, going back into the hall.
From there, we went up the stairs, peeking into all the rooms, each of us deciding the two toward the back of the cabin were the best, overlooking the woods out back instead of the driveway and what appeared to be an old outhouse out front and to the side.
Having her space, Katie seemed content to curl up there and never leave, going around the space, tidying up, setting extra blankets on the bed, then carefully putting away all her belongings once I'd brought her things up.
Not wanting to insert myself in her space, I went over into my room, a simple space just big enough for the queen-sized bed, a single nightstand, a closet, a small bathroom with a stall shower I was seriously worried I wouldn't be able to fit in, and a fireplace.
The only one, it seemed, in any of the bedrooms. Each of the rooms in the floor below had them, making me wonder if power outages were common in this area, if we were going to have any issues on this retreat with keeping warm and entertained.
Especially since the wifi seemed nonexistent.
I guess that was the reason for the board games as well as the collection of books on a shelf in the great room.
I didn't plan on spending much time indoors anyway.
But at least I knew how to build a fire so I could keep warm, if necessary.
The women, if needed, would likely all have a giant sleepover in the great room.
Though how anyone would be able to sleep with all those glass eyes glaring down at them, I had no idea.
After putting a few basic things into the bathroom, leaving most of my shit in the suitcase since that was how my siblings and I had always lived—out of suitcases—so it was what was most natural to me, I decided to follow my growling stomach to the kitchen, hoping someone had stocked the fridge and pantry for us.
"Hey," I called after knocking on Katie's door, hearing something drop inside before her feet shuffled across the floor. "Don't worry. Just me. No cannibals. Though, before I turn into one, I am going to see about raiding the kitchen. Want to come?"
The door flew open, and there she was, inexplicably with a big sweatshirt over her t-shirt and sweater. I was starting to suspect she was the reason the office always felt like the thermostat was set at hell when I arrived.
"I haven't had anything since the airplane snack,” she told me.
"Hopefully, we can do better than that," I said, heading down, hearing her more tentative steps following behind.
"It's our lucky day," I declared, opening the fridge, finding it so stocked that it would be a game of Tetris to get things out and back in when we needed them.
At least for a few days. "Let’s see. I can make...
sandwiches. Eggs. And passably edible hot dogs. "
"How can you mess up a hot dog?" she shot back, making me turn to find her a little wide-eyed, like she was worried she'd offended me.
"My siblings tell me you're not supposed to fry them in a pan with butter.”
"That's because you’re not," she agreed, shaking her head. "I, ah, I think eggs will work. If you don't do anything weird to them. I mean, I will eat whatever. I'm not picky. I just—“
"Hey, Katie?" I asked, cutting her off.
"Yeah?"
"How do you like our eggs?"
"Um scrambled. Or in a basket. But make them however you like them. It's fine. I will ea—“