Chapter 6 Maddie
MADDIE
Iwake up on my cot the next morning and pull the comforter closer around me just to soak in its lovely warmth one last time.
This broom closet may not be fancy, but at least it’s mine.
For now.
And, odd as it might sound, I actually feel more at home in this cozy space than I used to in the room my stepmom designed for me.
Right after they got married, Delilah and Dad moved us out of the small brick cape cod I’d lived in all my life, and into the enormous house she liked to call the estate.
She was so proud when she presented us with the bedroom she had dreamed up for me.
The room was enormous, with a crystal chandelier, marble floors, hot pink walls, and too many sequined throw pillows to count.
My dad once joked with me that it looked like what would happen if Miss Piggy and I-Dream-of-Jeannie got an apartment together.
Delilah definitely wouldn’t have found that funny.
Plenty of girls my age would have loved it, but all that glamor was completely at odds with my own down-to-earth style. There wasn’t even a single bookshelf.
When I first saw it, I’d almost felt hurt. It was clear that this woman didn’t know me at all. Or maybe it was more accurate that she did know me just fine, but this was a room for the stepdaughter she wished I would be.
“Wow,” was all Dad could say as he took it all in.
“Did you notice you got the biggest bedroom suite in the house besides ours?” Delilah asked me, an expectant smile on her face.
“Thank you,” I told her politely.
I mean, there wasn’t anyone else living in the house, so it would have been kind of weird if I didn’t get the second-best room.
But I didn’t think it was a good idea to bring that up, and I didn’t really care one way or the other.
Honestly, the only thing I’d actually noticed about it, besides the decor, was that it was the farthest space in the whole house from their room.
In retrospect, I guess that probably should have been a clue as to how she really felt about me. But Dad always saw the best in Delilah. He saw the best in everyone. And I didn’t want to let myself dwell on negative thoughts.
Life is about other people, Maddie, he used to say, and I tried my best to apply the lesson when it came to my feelings on his relationship. I wanted so much to be happy for him since he seemed pretty content in his new marriage.
Shaking my head at how naive I was back then, I crawl out of the cot and grab my things to start the day. Last night I remembered that there’s a full bath out by the hot tub, so I’m planning to treat myself to a much-needed shower this morning.
I just have to get there and back without anyone noticing me. But it’s super early, so I doubt anyone will be up for a soak in the hot tub at this hour.
A few minutes later, I’m slipping out the back door. It’s still dark out and it’s cold as a witch’s bare behind out here, but I’ve got my mind focused on the idea of a hot shower and I’m not going to be dissuaded by a little thing like an icy wind.
The hot tub is on a freestanding covered pavilion at the center of the cabins.
Normally it has a gorgeous view, but right now it’s too dark to see a thing.
Which is good. At any other time of day, someone in the cabins could look out the window and wonder why I’m showering out here when I didn’t even use the hot tub.
Honestly, I’d love nothing more than to take a soak in the hot tub, but I’m guessing that’s not an included amenity for a guest who has to hide in the broom closet, and I don’t want to get Michael into trouble for his kindness to me.
Also, I don’t have a bathing suit and I’m definitely not the skinny-dipping type.
My heart is in my mouth as I creep up the stairs to the porch, but a few minutes later I’m standing under the hot spray of the shower, taking advantage of the lodge’s free offering of what claims to be body wash, shampoo, and conditioner all in one bottle.
It’s amazing how a little soap and water can change your outlook on life.
Being able to use anything feels like a lottery win to me, but as I look at the generic label on the bottle I can’t help thinking about what Margo and Bronson were saying in the kitchen last night. Maybe this place isn’t really what people would call high-end.
I know that in my grandparents’ day the Poconos used to be a huge destination for honeymooners.
These mountains were dotted with romantic hotels and resorts back then.
And in the summertime, wealthy families from Manhattan would head down to enjoy the cool mountain climate in swanky resorts that had pools and tennis courts and activities.
My dad had a ton of great stories about coming here as a kid.
But all that was well before I was born. By the time I ever visited this place with my own parents, a lot of those honeymoon hotels were already abandoned. Some even had trees growing in the lobbies.
Dad used to say the movie Dirty Dancing got it right about all the vacation destinations from back then. Those resorts were incredibly popular, but a generation later people were deciding to go to Europe instead, and mountain economies like this one took a hit.
But these past few years, more and more people are working from home, and realizing that home can be anywhere.
As a result, tons of former city folk are building year-round houses in picturesque little places like Angel Mountain, and expecting these small towns to offer the kinds of services and shopping that go along with the lifestyle they’re used to back in the city.
Those massive chalets above the lodge are a result of that shift, and they certainly weren’t on the mountain the last time I was here.
I remember all that space as just a beautiful, wild forest with trails curving through it. Dad and I used to take the horses up sometimes. When you get all the way to the top, you can see the state park that spreads down the other side of the mountain as you look out over the valley below.
I guess all that protected land on the other side of the mountain makes the chalets pretty valuable real estate. But it’s sad to think that the state park is probably less accessible from this side now.
I try to picture the kind of people that are coming in from the city and sitting in those big houses in front of their laptops and giant televisions. They don’t want a rustic old lodge with horseback riding, or a hot chocolate social with the other guests in front of the fire every night.
Those people want gourmet organic food, high-end spa services, complicated coffee drinks, and… well, privacy.
The lodge is an amazing place for a lot of reasons—but none of them are on that list.
There’s no point worrying about it right now though. I have to get back and set up in the lobby to write for a bit before the day really gets started. With any luck, Mr. Stone and Dylan will come to pick me up soon, and I can ask about my pay.
Since I’m still wet from the shower, it’s a frigid walk back to the hotel. An icy rain is starting to fall, and by the time I slip in the back door, my hair is frozen into long sharp points. But I don’t even care, because at least it’s clean. I honestly feel like a new woman.
Snagging the table by the door again, I pull my laptop out of my bag and power it up, leaving my jacket on since I’m still shivering a little.
A gorgeous woman with a shiny black bob haircut is standing at the counter absolutely grilling Margo about the lodge, while a man with a camera crouches on the floor beside her, filming the whole time.
The woman is wearing a lavender coat with a lavender faux-fur collar with matching leggings and boots, and she looks like a cross between a movie star and a Barbie doll.
“Influencers normally receive complimentary accommodations and swag,” she’s telling Margo in a breathy voice.
“And what does the resort get in return?” Margo asks her with a dangerous smile.
“Exposure,” the woman replies, clearly expecting that to land hard.
“Exposure is something you die of in the woods,” Margo says drily, tapping her finger on the laminated cabin map. “The price for the cabins is non-negotiable. Take it or leave it.”
I look down at my laptop just in time. Out of the corner of my eye, I sense the influencer scanning the room to see if anyone heard her get humiliated by Margo.
Join the club, honey. Margo eats people like you and me for breakfast.
Apparently the influencer is satisfied that no one noticed, because the next thing I hear is her choosing a cabin and the jingle of the sleigh bells that hang from the door of the key cabinet.
“Enjoy your stay, Miss Jones,” Margo says in a bored way.
“It’s just Penelope,” the influencer replies, the breathy voice gone and replaced with what really sounds like a Brooklyn accent. “Can we take that again? Here, I’ll give you the key back.”
I can’t help looking up just in time to see Margo roll her eyes as she takes the key and pretends to retrieve it from the cabinet again.
“Enjoy your stay, Penelope,” she says, throwing in a too-sweet smile this time.
“Thanks a bunch,” Penelope replies in her breathy voice before glancing down at her cameraman. “Okay, we got it. Come on, Tony.”
He hops up and trots after her when she flags down Michael.
Focus, Maddie, I remind myself as I turn my attention back to the laptop in front of me.
I wasn’t really counting on breaking my unproductive streak today. I’m a little stressed out, and a lot hungry. But somehow instead of staring at the screen, I find myself writing. The words come slowly but steadily and the lobby fades away as I get more and more lost in the story.
The next thing I know a blast of frigid air lifts my hair and I look up to notice that the elderly couple from yesterday is already on the sofa again, sipping the blisteringly hot lobby coffee, as Jake and Dylan step inside.