Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Rachel
Long driveways were a country thing, Rachel knew. Lots of people had them, so she tempered her excitement as Kell pulled the truck down the already plowed, winding way.
In L.A., anyone with a driveway this long had more money than sense, and a nine-digit blockbuster under their belt.
Here? As Kell pulled up to the modest farmhouse with a slightly crooked porch and wood piles everywhere, she realized how different her life really was from the residents of Luview, Maine.
“This is, um, quaint!” she said, dredging up as much enthusiasm as she could. The snow was making it hard to see anything.
“That’s Kenny’s house. Your rental’s around back.”
“Oh! He has a guest cottage at his inn? Or is it a cute little apartment attached to the main house?”
A sharp look greeted her. Was that a smirk? It was hard to tell under the beard. “You have the reservations your assistant gave you, right?”
“Of course.” She wiggled her phone. “The information is all here. One bedroom, one bath. She said rentals were tight because of the time of year.”
“Yeah. Tight. One bedroom, one bath, huh?”
“Although I did tell her to book me at an inn, with a honeymoon package, so now I’m confused.”
The headlights flashed on a small structure, about three hundred feet behind the main house. It looked like a shack. As they drove closer, Rachel frowned.
Hard.
Because Kell was stopping in front of it.
“What is that? A tool shed?”
His shoulders began to shake a little, then a small, strained laugh came out of him. “That’s your guest cottage, Rachel. At your inn.”
“What?” It looked like something people pulled behind a big truck, loaded with motorcycles. “That’s not a cottage!”
“No. It’s a trailer.”
“A trailer! There’s been a mistake! Dani booked a suite at an inn, or a cottage!”
“Did she say she booked a suite? Or a cottage?”
“She said–she said it was a one bedroom, one bath place.”
“Well, it is. That’s a nineteen-foot RV trailer you’ve got there. Kenny rents it out to make extra money during crunch times in town.”
“Crunch times?”
An aggravated sigh filled the truck’s cab.
“It’s the beginning of February, Rachel.
Luview turns into a circus around Valentine’s Day.
You were lucky to get this. Your only other option at this point is the bunkhouse above Bilbee’s Tavern, and that’s mostly filled with drunken frat boys here to hook up.
One big, open room with ten bunk beds, doubles on the bottom, singles on top.
You have to win at beer pong to get one of the doubles. ”
“But–I can’t stay in that! Where’s the bathroom?”
“It’s in there.”
“And the kitchen?”
“In there, too. Haven’t you ever gone camping?”
“No!”
“Wait. That was a rhetorical question. You’ve never gone camping?”
A yawn was all she could reply with.
“I’ve been awake for nearly thirty-six hours straight.
My car broke down, I got rescued by a guy who lied to me about his identity, I was nearly attacked by wild animals, got superglued to another person, had to ride like a trussed turkey in your lap in front of half the town, dealt with this crazy bobcat pet thing of yours–”
Calamine arched her back and leaped out of Rachel’s lap, into the backseat.
“–and now you’re telling me I have to spend three nights in that?”
“Three nights? You’re here for three nights?”
“Maybe more if this doesn’t wrap up fast.”
“Then let’s get you settled in. Got your suitcase?”
“You didn’t grab it?”
“Why would I grab it? You didn’t want your precious Louis Vuitton in the open air of my pickup bed, remember?”
“Because–because…”
No longer able to muster anger, outrage, disgust, or any emotion other than sheer exhaustion, Rachel finally burst into tears.
“I cannot believe that this is ha–ha–happening. I took this stupid assignment because my boss said my connections to the town through my stupid mother’s reality show would help persuade the owners to sell.
Instead, my stupid rental car breaks down on a stupid logging road and you show up and lie to me about who you are, except maybe you didn’t lie, because you’re nothing like the Kell Luview I knew back in D.C. !”
“Rachel, please don’t cry.” Actual caring, real and tender, filled his expression. All it did was make her miss him even more.
And trigger a whole new layer of anger.
“AND THEN! You kept insulting me, over and over, but the pièce de résistance was when you superglued us together–”
“Me? I didn’t do that! You did!”
“–and you made me straddle you–”
“Whoa! That was physics! Not me!”
“ –and you have a stupid pet bobcat you didn’t warn me about –”
“HEY! Now you’ve gone too far, insulting my cat!”
“–and I’m here to broker a deal in a place where you’ve already poisoned everyone against me! How can I accomplish this?”
“I poisoned everyone?”
“You poisoned your sister.”
“I told my sister the truth about what happened in D.C.”
“DID IT EVER OCCUR TO YOU THAT YOUR TRUTH IS WRONG?”
Calamine skedaddled onto the top of the seat back and glared at Kell. Good. She had an ally.
He did a double take. “What, Cally? You’re taking her side?”
All he got in response was a good view of the cat’s butthole.
“Your cat listens better than you do, Kell. Now,” she said, mustering the tiny iron filings of pride she had left. “Bill me for your time. Markstone's will pay you. I’m going into my… cottage. I’ll figure out how to get my car on my own.”
“My truth? There isn’t a ‘my truth’, Rachel. There’s the truth.”
Ignoring him, she grabbed her purse and climbed out of the car, holding the door open and leaning back in.
“Then here’s the truth, Kell: You've become a jerk. But thank you for all your help, in spite of your jerkness.”
One enormous slam and she was done.
Crying, she made her way to the trailer’s door, which was covered by a small awning. A sign taped next to the door read, “Unlocked! Come right on in.”
No way. She definitely wasn’t in L.A.
Dinky little metal steps were slippery under her soles, the treads not deep enough to put anything but the ball of her foot on them. A turn of the handle and she felt warmth, then fumbled for a light switch.
As she flicked it on, she saw Kell put the truck in reverse. The snow was starting to fly fast.
A scent of pine air freshener hit her square in the face.
The overhead light was fluorescent, and if she stretched her arms out, she could practically touch both the edge of the bunk bed and the far wall.
To her left was a double bed below a single bunk, thick down comforters on both.
A tall door was to the right of the bed, then a narrower door. Maybe a closet?
Straight ahead was a small refrigerator, an oven, and a cooktop, with various things set out on the tiny counter. Above the mini range was a microwave. To the right, a little round table and a booth area that couldn’t fit more than three people.
“Cottage?” she screamed. “COTTAGE??”
A note on the table said, in big, bold capital letters: WELCOME TO LUVIEW! WE ‘LOVE YOU’ BEING HERE!
She whimpered.
Right next to the note, which explained where to find the key, the Wi-Fi password, and garbage and recycling policies (What was a trash panda?), she found an overflowing bowl of red foil-wrapped chocolate hearts.
On the note, Kenny had written with a red Sharpie:
“Some hearts for Rachel HART! Get it? Hope you like the place. Sorry in advance about Randy.”
That made her cry even harder.
Who was Randy?
Without thinking, she unwrapped a chocolate heart and popped it in her mouth.
And moaned.
Love You Chocolate tasted so much better than Markstone's. Night and day difference, really. As the milk chocolate melted on her tongue, she was torn. Binge the entire bowl or crawl into bed?
If that thing to her left could be called a bed. It looked more like a sheet of plywood with a piece of foam and a comforter on it.
She’d seen better sleeping arrangements in the homeless shelter she visited with her mom, when her mother was doing a PSA commercial for the organization.
Gingham curtains–white and red, of course–covered every window, but as the wind began to pick up, she noticed a weird crackling sound. It came from the windows. Peeking under the curtains revealed the strangest sight: clear plastic covering each window, taped around the edges.
Why would you ruin the view with plastic? And how did you get fresh air?
Picking up the note and another chocolate, she put her priorities in place.
First, eat about five more of these yummy treats.
Second, hydrate.
In the kitchenette, a pitcher of filtered water rested next to the sink. Within two seconds, she found red plastic tumblers. After she gulped down a glass of water, she returned to her priority list.
Third, call her assistant and scream at her.
Catharsis was important. And get Dani to find a better place.
Fourth, work.
Thankfully, her laptop and charger were in her bag, even if nothing else was. She’d have to sleep in her clothes, then find a way back to her car to get her suit for her eleven o’clock meeting.
The idea of spending one more second with Kell had been too much to bear when he dropped her off here, but now she regretted turning him away. He could have been useful in getting her luggage from her rental car.
She’d just call an Uber in the morning.
Hmm. Maybe she should schedule it now.
Pulling out her phone, she followed Kenny’s instructions and to her utter surprise, the wireless network was flawless. Within five minutes, she was fully connected and ready to work on priority number three: screaming at her assistant.
But first things first. That Uber.
The app showed… nothing. No cars.
That couldn’t be right.
She checked again, carefully typing in the address of…
Oh. Right. Her car wasn’t at an address. What was she going to say? The intersection of State Route 33 and where the screaming women lived in the woods?
Time to move on.