Chapter 5: The Woodshed

The staff cabin had two bunks, a hot plate and a window that looked at the back of the woodshed.

By Friday I had a green fleece, a name tag that said JO, and a stack of reservation cards to alphabetize.

The desk clerk was Cal's cousin, and she had decided I was a hero the moment she heard I was not a guest.

"You can sit here and judge people with me," she said. "It's the best part of the job."

I had a spreadsheet open on the laptop for work, and I answered two emails and a call from my boss.

At four o'clock she leaned over the counter.

"There," she said, nodding at the window. "The golden couple, right on time."

Waylon came up the path with a duffel on one shoulder and his other hand held by a woman in a yellow rain jacket.

I knew the walk. I knew the duffel.

I knew the way he tipped his head toward her when she talked, because he used to do it with me.

"Jo," the clerk said. "Go get Cal some firewood."

"Why?"

"He needs it for the lodge stove, and you're in danger of staring a hole through that glass."

I took the wheelbarrow out the back door and rounded the corner of the woodshed.

Cal was at the stump with his axe.

"Don't," he said, without turning around. "He's coming this way."

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