Beep.
“Olivia! Since you’re not returning my calls, I figure you’ve either transcended to a whole new plane of existence or you’re shunning modern technology or you’ve passed out with hunger from that detox of yours. Is everything OK? I miss you. Call me.”
Beep.
“Hey, Livvy, I got your text. All twelve words of it. I’m glad you’re having a good time out there, and things are going good with Cash. But, ummm, maybe you want to think some more about the whole ‘not going to college’ thing? I know we’ve been planning on college together forever, but even if you don’t want to do that, there are tons of other options we can think about. Don’t do anything rash, OK? Anyway, hopefully we can catch up soon. . . . Miss you!”
Beep.
“Hey Olivia, just checking in. But you’re not answering. Again . . . Nothing much to say, just seeing if you’re around. Things are good. I’m just heading out to the woods again, so, I guess call me later, OK? Bye.”
You can only prepare for so much. All the planning in the world is no match for the real wilderness — out there, you’ve got to learn to deal with the unexpected. Improvise, adapt, get messy. Nothing’s fun when you can see it coming a mile away.
—“Outdoor Adventuring,”
The Modern Mountain Man’s Survival Guide
22
“I’ve got something for you.” Susie pokes her head out onto the back porch to find me and then emerges, dangling a crisp paper bag from one finger. It’s late on a Friday afternoon, my favorite time of day. The fierce heat of the day has faded, and now there’s a cool breeze slipping through the backyard, the sun sinking lower in the sky.
I push my magazine aside. “Oooh, what?”
She laughs, dropping the bag beside me on the wicker love seat. “Don’t get too excited.”
I eagerly open it up, pausing when I find a pale, solid package. “Tofu?”
Susie grins, pulling up the rocking chair opposite. “I ordered it in from a health food company. Lentils and beans, too. I know you’ve been missing that kind of food.”
“Aww, that’s really sweet of you.” I put the bag aside and hug her. To tell the truth, I haven’t been missing it that much at all. It turns out Adam picks up most of our fruit and vegetables from local farm stands nearby, which is plenty eco-friendly for me, and as for the rest of it . . . well, chalky tofu is no match for Susie’s corn fritters.
“Thank you,” I tell her, all the same. “You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.”
“I know.” Susie’s pulled her wet hair back into a braid, and she’s actually wearing a crisp shirt instead of her usual paint-splattered T. “But I wanted to say thank you.”
“For what?”
She breaks into a proud grin. “We’ve had our first booking!”
“No way — that’s great!” I clap my hands together. “Tell me all the details!”
“It’s a family, from Boston. They’re driving across the province, and they decided to stay with us for a few nights.”
“Ah, I’m so happy for you guys!” I reach over and give her a hug. “It’s only the first; there’ll be tons more to come.”
Susie beams back. “And it’s all because of you! They found us through the Stillwater website you guys put up, said it sounded ‘rustic and adventurous.’ They want to do all those activities you showed, so we’ll have to organize the boys to take them out. For a fee, of course.”
“They’ll be happy to,” I promise. “That’s really great.”
“Isn’t it? And the timing’s perfect, because I’ve got a meeting with the bank this afternoon.”
“What for?” I remember that stack of paperwork I wasn’t supposed to see. “Is everything OK?”
“It will be now,” she reassures me, straightening her shirt and smoothing back a stray curl until she looks every inch the respectable business-owner. “And with you and Fiona pitching in, we’re even ahead of schedule.” She pauses. “I know I shouldn’t jinx it, but do you know why . . . ?”
“She’s acting human?” I finish. “Nope, no idea. Maybe she finally decided to be mature about it.” We pause. “Or maybe she’s been taken over by aliens.” I offer a more likely scenario.
“Either way, it’s wonderful.” Susie grins.
I nod. A wonderful mystery.
Inspired by the B and B’s first booking, I decide to stop waiting around for Ethan and take charge of the website project myself. He put up the basic Stillwater info and some maps, and we’ve added video footage of the fun activities available around here, but it could be so much more.
“You could go horseback riding,” Fiona suggests through a mouthful of raw brownie mix.
“I don’t know. . . .” I hop up on the kitchen cabinet and take a spoonful from the bowl. This time, the baking effort doesn’t seem to be a product of sheer rage, so I figure it’s safe for me to be around. “The stuff we’ve done so far has involved all this expensive equipment — the bikes, the kayaks, the fishing gear.”
“What, so you want, like, a hike?” Fiona wrinkles her nose. “Thrilling.”
“But it would be a way to get loads of photos of how beautiful it is around here.” I ponder, licking brownie mix off my wrist. Now that the idea is in my head, the more I like the plan of going out on another group trip. After all, it’s been four days since I last saw Reeve around town. . . . I catch myself, embarrassed, before I can take the thought any further. “Are there any good trails around?” I ask instead.
“There’s the path up Mount Jacobs.”
“A mountain?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s only like, a big hill. But you get views all over the valley.”
“Sounds perfect!” I brighten. “I’ll see if the guys want to do it, maybe tomorrow. I think Grady has the day off.”
Fiona begins scraping what’s left of her mix onto a baking sheet. “I could maybe come too,” she says, not looking at me.
I blink, surprised. “Umm, sure, that would be cool!”
“But don’t expect me to carry anything.”
We meet the next afternoon, equipped with juice, energy bars, a flashlight, and a cardigan — at least, I am. Grady and Fiona look at my bulging backpack with amusement, but I’m taking no chances out there in the forest again. Jeremiah B. Coombes would call me a doggone fool if I went out without proper supplies, and in my serious pair of hiking boots and sturdy shorts, I’m ready for anything.