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I shouldered my purse and made my way to the front door, deciding I’d come back out again for my suitcase once I had proper boots on. I expected him to follow close behind, but when I got to the door and made to open it, I noticed he was still standing by the snow-covered hydrangea bushes.
He swallowed. “Do I have your permission to come inside?”
I stared at him. “Of course. I haven’t made you feel unwelcome here, have I?” Suddenly, I felt bad. Had my panicking about us being alone here made him feel awkward?
“It’s not that,” he said. “I need explicit permission before entering someone else’s home, remember?” He paused. “Like at your Aunt Sue’s party.”
I’d forgotten all about that. Honestly, his insistence on being explicitly invited into people’s private spaces was weirdly charming. “Oh, right. Well, you’re welcome to come inside.”
“Thank you,” he said, seeming more at ease. “I’ll join you shortly, after I’ve walked around the house a bit more.”
“Of course. Whenever you’re ready.” I couldn’t imagine wanting to spend time outside in this weather. Especially dressed the way he was, in nothing but a long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. How were his toes not freezing off? “I’ll just go find some hot cocoa in the pantry.”
If there was one constant on these trips, it was the packets of cheap grocery store hot cocoa that no one ever seemed to remember buying but that were somehow always on hand.
I’d need all the strength hot cocoa could give me to face whatever came next.
•••••••
Whoever my parents had comein to clean the house before this weekend had blessedly turned the thermostat up to seventy-two after leaving. The minute I got inside, I reveled in the relative warmth, sighing as the chill in my bones melted away.
A quick search of the kitchen yielded three boxes of Swiss Miss cocoa packets that looked like they’d been purchased sometime in the past five years, a couple cans of dubious store-brand soup, and a box of bouillon cubes that had expired in 2012. That was all we’d have on hand until one of us made a grocery run.
Assuming, of course, that a grocery run was even possible. The only store within fifteen minutes of the cabin tended to close when the weather was bad. Even if it was open, I had no idea if we’d be able to use my car. Dad kept a snowblower in the garage that would take care of the driveway once it stopped snowing, but the roads would likely be impassable for days.
There was a snowmobile in the garage that was usually gassed up, at least. And if it wasn’t running, there were several pairs of snowshoes that might work as a last resort.
Once Reggie came in, we’d have a strategy session about how to get more food. In the meantime, I needed to let Sophie know she might need to feed Gracie longer than I’d originally planned.
AMELIA:Hey Soph
AMELIA:Reg and I are stuck up in WI because of the blizzard. The rest of the gang didn’t make it out of Chicagobefore the storm started so it’s just us up here.
AMELIA:Hopefully I’ll still make it back home as scheduled but there’s a chance I may need you to feed Gracie a few extra days
That settled, I made my way down the hallway to the bedroom that had been mine ever since our families built these cabins. It was like walking down decades of childhood memories and family remembrances. Most of our school pictures were at our parents’ house back in Chicago, but these walls were lined with memories we’d made here in Wisconsin. Here was a picture of me, Adam, and Sam, out on my uncle Jim’s fishing boat, each of us gap-toothed and smiling. And there was a picture of Adam’s kids from last summer, little Aiden wearing at least as much chocolate ice cream on his face as there was left in his cone.
I was feeling all nostalgic and warm, despite the strangeness of my present circumstances, by the time I got to my bedroom at the end of the hall—and saw that the two twin beds that had been in my room for decades had been replaced with a beautiful queen-sized bed, piled high with fluffy pillows.
Two thoughts went through my mind simultaneously:
Oh, good. Those beds were uncomfortable as hell and made me feel like I was nine years old.
And:Oh my god, there’sonly one bed.
“Seriously, I need the name of your landscaper.” Reggie’s delighted voice bounded down the hallway. I barely heard him over the ringing in my ears and the renewed panic coursing through my bloodstream.
One bed one bed there’s only one bed.
He stopped so abruptly when he got to my bedroom and saw what I was looking at that he bumped into me from behind. I braced myself with one hand against the doorframe to keep from stumbling into the room.
When I looked at him over my shoulder, he was staring at that single queen-sized bed in the center of the room, eyes wide as saucers.
He licked his lips. “There…appears to be only one bed.” His voice was shaking. Or maybe it was just me who was shaking.
I cleared my throat in an attempt to pull myself together. “We have full run of the house,” I said. “Remember? So we…um.” I wondered if my face was as red as it felt. “We don’t have to both sleep in it, or anything.”
He nodded vigorously. “Right.”
