It didn’t look much like a gingerbread house to me, but maybe with the right filter on the camera and the right lighting, it would pass.
‘It better,’ I thought.
I only had one client so far. He (presumably it was a ‘he’) went by the username of Professor Grimm. And until I had clients lining up to see my show, I was in no position to disappoint.
I sent Professor Grimm a message: ‘The house is just about ready. Looking forward to our chat this evening!’
I wasn’t one to judge.
If some guy wanted to watch twenty-five-year-old lift weights in a makeshift gingerbread house, the only questions I was going to ask were, ‘Did you make the payment yet? And at what time?’
By early afternoon, I’d finished and decided to trek back to the cabin for a late lunch and a nap before the night’s show.
I thought tourist season had come and gone, but I spotted a van of tourists unloading down by the lodge.
I assumed they were tourists, but judging from the cameras, lights, and other equipment they were hauling, they might have been a film crew. Who knows? Maybe they’re shooting a documentary: The Loneliest Spot in America.
I made a mental note to ask Betty about it. Nothing went on in this sleepy town without Betty hearing about it. For someone who rarely left the cabin, she sure did have her ear on what was going on.
I’d asked her how that could be, and she merely gave me a wicked smile and said it was her crystal ball. Fingers crossed her crystal ball would tell her a group of single women had debarked in Perth. And why not single women with lots of cash, maybe a lawyer or two among them?
Since I was trying to deck out the workshop to look like a gingerbread house, I thought I was losing my mind when I stepped into the cabin and was hit with a strong scent of gingerbread. “Smells good,” I said. “What is it?”
“Special treat,” Betty called out from the kitchen. “I thought you could use a little sweetness to brighten up your day.”
I went into the kitchen cautiously. I didn’t like coincidences, and this one was particularly unsettling. I’d never told Betty what I was doing in the workshop, and she never asked. I gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”
I turned my head and caught sight of a pair of metal cages sitting in the corner. “What are those cages for?”
“Oh, what? Those cages?” she said, overly casually as if I might have been asking about other cages in the cabin. “I found them by the market. Someone was throwing them out. I figured we might be able to find some use for them.”
I rubbed my chin. I was certain I could find a use for them. Cages seemed like a prop my future clients would enjoy. But I couldn’t fathom what possible use Betty was imagining.
“I’m afraid I got distracted at the market, what with the cages and all,” said Betty. “I didn’t get back in time to make the soup. Sorry.”
I put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a rub. “Why don’t I do the cooking for a change?”
“Oh, Jake. I know you’ve got your work. No need to tire yourself out with the cooking.”
“Actually, I’m not that hungry,” I lied. “I’ll just have a small piece of whatever it is you’re making. Smells good. Then maybe I can whip you up an omelet.”
“No eggs,” said Betty with a frown.
I rubbed her back. “I’m sorry, Betty. But I’ve got a job this evening. Tomorrow, I’ll be able to buy eggs and bacon and ham and whatever else you want. You just think about what you want and make me a list. Tomorrow, we’ll eat like royalty.”
She gave my tummy a tap. “I’ll finally be able to put some fat on you after all.”
“Speaking of putting fat on me, what are you making?”
“Gingerbread.”
I took a peek over her shoulder. “Well, if you want to get me fat, the gingerbread smells great. You’re off to a good start.” I took a seat at the table. Betty fetched me a plate with a thick slice of frosted gingerbread. “Are you trying to get me fat or get me killed? I can’t eat that big of a slice.”
She swatted my comment out of the air. “Oh, stop it.”
“None for you?” I asked before digging in.
She gave her sides a tap. “I’ve already got more than enough fat on me, don’t you think?”
“I think you look just fine,” I said and took a bite of the sweet bread.
Betty swatted down my compliment. “Flattery will get you wherever you want to go. You remember that, Jake.”
I chewed and shook my head. “Don’t want to go anywhere. I’m happy right here.”