“Yes. I’m apportioning the salmon we’re having for supper tonight according to height and weight. I figure you’re what, about five feet, seven inches?”
“Uh…”
“Well, what do you weigh?” Patty tapped an impatient foot on the deck.
Maggie shot Mace an accusing glance. He raised his eyebrows and grinned in response.
“Um, one twenty, one twenty-five, I guess.”
Patty appeared to make some quick internal calculations. “Okay, we should have just enough then. C’mon in and I’ll show you around. Set your backpack with the rest of the stuff to the left of the door. Make sure you close the door behind you because I don’t want my cats getting out, and whatever you do, don’t open a window until I tell you to open the windows. I want to keep the cabin cool.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Maggie mumbled, glaring at Mace behind Patty’s retreating back. She followed the woman inside, looking for the rest of the gear.
“To the left,” Mace whispered in her ear.
“Shut up,” Maggie whispered in return.
“So,” said Patty, turning in a circle, her arms spread, “this is our cabin. It was originally just this main room and the loft. Last year we added a bathroom and a master bedroom and a combination sitting room-dining room down those stairs.”
Mace had to admit that other than the master bedroom-bathroom arrangement, the place really was very nice.
Patty walked to the bottom of a narrow, steep, circular metal grate staircase. “You’ll be sleeping up there, with Mace,” he watched Maggie’s mouth open, “the bathroom is over here and we’ll need to discuss the rules, and…”
“Wait a second,” Maggie interrupted. “I’m not sleeping with…I mean, why am I sharing a room with Mace?”
“Because that’s the only other bed in the cabin.” Patty was nonplussed.
Mace grinned from ear to ear.
“I’ll just sleep on the couch. It’s no bother.”
“No,” replied Patty, “you won’t. You’ll notice we don’t have a couch, we have chairs, and even if we did have a couch, I wouldn’t be comfortable with you sleeping on it. Beds are for sleeping, not couches, and you won’t be sleeping on the floor either. I’ve already had this discussion with Mace. I don’t plan to repeat myself.”
Maggie looked at him for help. Mace could see the growing panic in her eyes. He shook his head and mouthed the words, “We’ll talk later.”
“Let me show you the loft and give you your towel and then we’ll go over a few rules.”
Looking like she’d prefer to bolt back to the boat dock, Maggie grabbed for her pack.
Patty crossed her arms. “What are you doing?”
“I need my pack, my stuff is in…”
“You’ll have to get out the things you need as you need them. There’s no room for the backpack upstairs.” Patty turned her back and started up the winding staircase.
“Just kill me,” Maggie hissed in Mace’s ear as she passed him. “Kill me now.”
Mace burst into laughter. He turned and walked toward the door, leaving Maggie to deal with Patty on her own.
If she thinks Patty is over-the-top now, wait until she hears the bathroom rules
.
* * * *
“So, here is your towel and this one over here is Mace’s. Keep them on this rack and remember to take them with you to the bathroom. These are the only towels you’ll use while you’re staying in the cabin. Do you need a washcloth?”
As if struck dumb, Maggie shook her head. Knuckles white, she pressed the towel to her chest, clinging to it like a life vest.
“Good, then you’re set.” Patty began to descend the narrow staircase. “Oh, I almost forgot, there’s one more thing. The only way in and out of our bedroom is through the bathroom. You’re welcome to shut the sliding door that opens from the main room into the bathroom, but leave the door from the bathroom into our bedroom open.”
Maggie made a croaking noise and tried to find her voice. “You mean you want me to make sure the door to your bedroom is open after I’ve finished using the bathroom?”
“No, I mean the door from the bathroom into our bedroom stays open at all times. I don’t want my cats stuck in my bedroom. Their litter box is in the bathroom.”
Maggie was horrified. “But what if…I mean, what if you’re in your bedroom and I’m using the bathroom, I can’t close the door?”
“Right.” Patty smiled. “Just leave it open. You won’t bother us.”
Before she could stop herself, Maggie blurted out, “Maybe it won’t bother you, but it will sure as hell bother me.”
Patty clucked at her. “You and Mace, you’re both such soft city dwellers. Up here we don’t worry about that sort of thing.”
No, up here you’re fucking certifiable
.
I have to spend five days with these people in the wilderness?
I can’t do this
.
As Patty descended the stairs, she called up, “Robert would like you and Mace to meet him in the boathouse before supper. Now would be a good time.”
“Where’s the boathouse?”
“Down the hill to your left, behind the guest cabin.” Patty vanished around the curve in the staircase.
Maggie looked around the tiny loft. She began to hyperventilate. Patty wasn’t kidding, the room was tiny. There was barely space for one person to stand without falling through the hole cut in the floor for the staircase. If she had to get up for any reason in the middle of the night, she was going to have to make a point of remembering not to get killed. The double bed was pushed up against a railing that was lower than the bed. Maggie climbed onto the mattress and cautiously peered over the edge, down to the first floor. Mace stood there, barefoot, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, grinning at her.
Maggie drew back from the edge. No way could she sleep on that side of the bed, and regardless of how she felt about Mace’s presence, she didn’t want him to sleep there either. One mistake and he’d end up impaled on the moose sculpture below. Sliding back off the bed, she sat on the floor, drew her knees up to her chest, and rested her chin on her hands. She closed her eyes.
I don’t want to be here. I want to go home. This sucks. This so totally sucks
.
When a warm body leaned against hers, she opened her eyes. It was Mace. He mimicked her position. She lifted her head and their eyes met.
“Sorry,” was all he said. His voice was very soft.
“Mace, I can’t do this.”
“You mean sleep in the same bed? We’re adults, we can handle it. Or if you’re too uncomfortable, I’ll take one of the chairs. They’ll never know.”
“No, I mean any of this. I can’t sleep in this bed, and neither can you. You’ll turn on your side and fall right over the edge, and I’m sure as hell not sleeping on that side. Christ, I don’t even want to use the bathroom. I just…I have a really bad feeling about this, about these people, about this canoe trip.”
Mace pressed his shoulder against her. She half expected him to put an arm around her; she sort of wished he’d put an arm around her, but he didn’t. He said, “It’s just a canoe trip, Maggie, nothing to be afraid of. I think Robert and Patty suffer from a minor case of obsessive-compulsive disorder, but it’s not terminal. Chances are, they’re going to bring some great food and wine and we’ll do a little fishing. You fish, right?”
Maggie nodded.
“Whoever designed this loft was a complete idiot, but I swear I won’t fall over the railing. I doubt I’ll sleep much anyway.”
Maggie shook her head and shot Mace a look of warning. “Uh-uh. Don’t think we’re going to pick up where we left off.”
“Did I say that? All I said was, I doubt I’ll get much sleep. Don’t jump to conclusions, woman.”
You’re disappointed, aren’t you? You were hoping he did want to pick up where the two of you left off.
“Where are Lynn and Jeff?” Maggie asked.
“Down at the guest cabin.”
Maggie gave a little snort. “Lucky them.”
“Yeah, well, there’s only one bathroom, and you heard the rules, so I doubt they’ll feel lucky, at least not until we leave in the morning.”
If I have to, I’ll just use the woods. We’ll see how they like those apples
.
“Did you say something, Maggie?”
Did I say that out loud?
“Uh, no, sorry, I was just thinking. We’re supposed to meet Robert at the boathouse. Do you know where it is?”
“Yeah, I got the full tour. C’mon.” Mace rose to his feet. Reaching for Maggie’s hands, he pulled her up with him. “Let’s go see what other surprises our hosts have in store for us.”
A little shaken, not only by the circumstances but by Mace’s obvious attempts to make her feel better, Maggie followed him down the stairs, holding tight to the narrow metal rail. She planted each foot carefully on every tiny stair, feeling her way down. It would be very easy to lose her balance and end up doing a major face plant into the kitchen below.
How on earth did I get myself into this, and how do I get myself out of it?
* * * *
Robert lovingly caressed his brand-new, lightweight, fiberglass canoe.
“Isn’t she a beauty?”
Maggie nodded dutifully.
What’s the big deal? It’s a canoe. They all look alike to me
.
“And look at this set of paddles. We ordered them from Costa Rica, hand carved…gorgeous, don’t you agree?”
Again, Maggie nodded. Robert reminded her of one of her cousins, a woman who never required an answer because she always agreed with herself.
Mace reached for a second set of wooden paddles. “So are these ours?”
Robert snatched them from his hands. He laughed. “No, this is our extra set; they’re far too valuable to be…”
What? Used by the likes of us? What a jerk.
Mace looked confused. “So what are we using?”
Robert reached behind a work bench. He pulled out a set of ratty, old, black plastic paddles. They looked like they’d been chewed up by a motor boat propeller. Maggie caught the expression on Mace’s face. To say he looked annoyed would be an understatement. “Which is our canoe? This one?” He pointed to the second fiberglass canoe fitted on its shelf beneath Robert’s pride and joy.
“Oh no…” Robert mumbled something unintelligible.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Mace’s voice was tinged with irritation.
Robert mumbled again, something about the trim needing to be refinished.
Why is he mumbling?
“No, your canoe is out in the yard, over by the swimming rock. C’mon, I’ll show you.”
The three of them left the far-too-neat boathouse, Maggie and Mace following Robert along the narrow path leading to the lake. “There.” Robert stopped and pointed. “There’s your canoe, the Grumman over on the cement blocks.”
Maggie saw a large, silver aluminum canoe with a big dent in the keel. “What’s a Grumman?” she whispered to Mace.
“A piece of shit left over from the fifties,” he said, his voice low, and he strode to the canoe. He turned to Robert. “How long have you had this thing?”
“Oh, years,” said Robert. “It can do anything, go anywhere.”