“Then why did you answer the damn phone?” Kira demanded.
“I’m on my driveway, actually, and the speed limit is five miles per hour. I think I got this.”
“Good. Found a guy to bang yet?”
“Do we really have to call it banging? Sounds so...violent.”
“Screwing? Fucking? Knocking boots?”
“Knocking boots? How old are you?” Joey asked.
“Just answer the question.”
“No, in the four hours since I last saw you I didn’t magically meet someone and screw, fuck or knock boots with him in the airport. And I’m probably not going to meet one in the next four hours, either. Or the next four days or the next two weeks. You know Lost Lake is mostly a retirement community, right? Retirees and summer vacation rentals. The only full-timers are the people who work at the lake and that’s, like...twenty people.”
“Twenty? About half of them must be guys. I like those odds.”
“I don’t.”
“Why are you staying way out there, anyway? You can go find a hot man bun in Portland.”
“The cabin is free. Mom and Dad gave it to Dillon as a wedding gift.”
“Nice gift. What do you get when you get married?” Kira asked.
“They’re paying for my wedding and honeymoon. Better deal than the cabin.”
“That bad?”
“It was almost a dump when I was a kid,” Joey said. “Now it’s just a dump. Nobody’s stayed in it in ten years as far as I know. Dillon swears up and down he got someone to clean it up a little, but he’s been up to his eyeballs in wedding planning. As long as I don’t have to bunk with a raccoon, it’ll be fine. I can rough it.”
“Better you than me. Just let me know if you need me to come up and stay with you a couple days. I mean—in a hotel, but near you. I have some vacation days banked in case of emergency. Best friend accidentally fucking a married dude for two years qualifies.”
“It’s okay. But I appreciate it. I should go. I’m at the house.”
“How bad is it? Bad? Are there snakes? Don’t tell me.”
Joey could hear the wincing in Kira’s voice. Staying at a four-star hotel was her version of “roughing it.” She parked the car in the gravel parking spot and was pleased to see the exterior of the house was in better shape than she remembered it. Much better.
“Looks good actually. They painted it. It used to be this dull green but now it’s gray. Very pretty,” Joey said as she got out of the car. “Looks like cedar shingles.”
“Fancy.”
“And the landscaping is nice, too. Someone cleaned up the yard.”
The trees and shrubs looked well-trimmed. The old broken stone path leading from the driveway to the front porch had been repaired. Every stone fit neatly and perfectly into its place. She didn’t trip like she used to when she was a kid and not paying attention to the treacherous walk.
“And somebody decorated?” she said, clinging to Kira on the phone. “I don’t think this is the same house. Did I go to the wrong house?”
“Did you?”
“No. It’s 1414 Cottonwood Way. This is it. There are carved jack-o’-lanterns on the porch. Really good ones.” She admired the mysterious carver’s handiwork. One scary face. One grinning face. One face that looked eerily like Eddie Vedder if Eddie Vedder were a jack-o’-lantern.
“Wait a minute...” Joey said.
“What?”
“Something is definitely up.” Joey lifted the welcome mat—when did they get a welcome mat?—pulled out the key and opened the front door. She’d been expecting a bare-bones cabin. That’s how she remembered it, anyway. Her parents bought the place for a song when she was seven years old and never remodeled it, never refurbished it, but they’d certainly gotten their money’s worth out of it those long summers they’d spent here. Structurally, it was sound, watertight and well-insulated. But inside it had always housed yard sale furniture, squeaky metal cots and secondhand bunk beds, unpainted walls and a kitchen that made cooking on a campfire look inviting. But now...