1
Fable
Istaggeredundertheweight of my overpacked suitcase as I lugged it off the Pinevale Airport’s lone carousel, banging my elbow on the cart’s handle and sending a zing of pain down to my fingertips, making me yelp. Despite being surrounded by a small crowd of people waiting for their own bags, nobody offered me a hand. Everyone looked tired and grumpy.
“Fucking Christmas,” I grumbled under my breath as I loaded up my cart, but I immediately felt guilty. It wasn’t the holiday’s fault I was in this mess. In fact, I quite liked the holiday—aside from all the stressful family obligations and overeating sugary foods that I knew would come back to haunt my waistline.
And it certainly wasn’t Santa’s fault that my high school’s alumni committee had decided that the week before Christmas would be the ideal time to fit in our ten-year reunion.
My guess was that they’d forgotten to book the venue in time to meet the deadline for a reasonable time of year, so we were stuck with the only available date they had left. And obviously December 18thwas still available, becauseeveryoneknew that you didn’t plan this kind of thing in the midst of travel planning, present shopping, and goody baking. The expectations in December were ten times higher than any other month of the year, and I was always left after New Year’s feeling shell-shocked, wondering how I’d managed to survive another holiday season.
And a reunion? Seriously! Seeing your old friends wasstressful! I hadn’t really kept in touch with many of the people I’d gone to school with, but since the reunion had been announced, I’d been getting random messages from a few people I hadn’t seen in ages. They all said they couldn’t wait to see what I’d been up to since graduating. “Have you taken over the world yet?” one of them had asked. Because, yeah, that was what I’d been voted most likely to do. No pressure, right? Ugh.
I had not, in fact, taken over the world. I’d moved to the “big city” to do “big-city things,” but in all these years, I hadn’t even taken over my department at the insurance company I worked at. I earned a modest wage that paid the bills, but that was about all I could claim. I didn’t even have my own office, just a tiny cubicle with flimsy walls. I was a nameless, faceless, expendable employee. Nothing special about me.
Even knowing their opinion didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, I still found myself trying to make myself look more impressive. Knowing both my mother and my former peers were expecting great things from me this year made me do something… rash. Crazy, even. I’d hired an escort. No, notthatkind of escort, I didn’t expect him to service me or anything. All he had to do was be charming, pretend to be my significant other with some super-important, well-paying job… like a brain surgeon or astronaut. Just something to get people off my back for the holidays!
Best-laid plans, though…
He was supposed to meet me here, but as soon as my flight had landed, I’d turned my phone off airplane mode, and it immediately dinged with a text. The chime had all the somber weight of a death knell, and I knew it was bad news even before I opened it.
Andre, the escort who’d come highly rated with 89 five-star reviews to his name, had covid. He would not be joining me this week after all. Fuck.
The sticky luggage-cart wheel snagged on the tiled floor and took a violent left turn, shaking me from my sulking. I just barely stopped it before it could collide with an elderly woman, who gave me a sharp glare. She was clearly embracing the Christmas spirit. I apologized profusely, wished her a happy holiday, then hurried for the airport exit.
Even before the automatic doors opened, I felt the chill right down to my bones. I’d grown up here, I knew what a real winter was, but that didn’t make me any more prepared for the blast of frigid air that hit me in the face like a stinging slap. I took a shuddering breath and felt it shock my lungs. “Here we go,” I muttered, my breath emerging as a cloud of steam. I quickly regretted my California jacket, nowhere near thick enough to withstand an Oregon winter. I should’ve known better.
The sun was bright, but it did little to warm me. Thankfully, someone had shoveled the snow from the sidewalk out front, and I was able to flag down a cab. “Where to?” the driver asked as he loaded my heavy bags into the trunk with a grunt.
“Winter Wonderland Wilderness Lodge,” I said, trying to muster some enthusiasm. At least I didn’t have to share my cabin with the escort anymore, so that was good. Right? Maybe I could try to view this as a holiday, instead of the performance it was going to be.
“Business or pleasure?” the driver asked as he pulled away from the curb, the heater on full blast.
I sighed, staring out the window, already starting to fog. “Neither.” I wasn’t in the mood to chat, and thankfully the driver seemed to catch my mood. We continued the rest of the way in silence, as I watched my hometown pass by in a blur. The familiar sights brought a sense of nostalgia along with the dread. My parents’ house was only 20 minutes away, but I would be putting off that visit for as long as they would let me. They thought I was arriving later in the week.
As we drove past my favorite Italian restaurant, my thoughts, as they so often did, drifted to my true passion: food.
Most people hated all the baking, roasting, stirring, basting that went along with the holidays, but it truly was the highlight of the season for me. My day job might’ve been a total yawn, but in my spare time, I’d started a little food blog. Nothing fancy, but I just loved cooking, and I had so much fun experimenting with new flavor combinations. Then I posted my recipes on my blog to share with my followers—all 17 of them. Too bad that wasn’t enough to brag about.
Maybe if I somehow combined all my mother’s favorite flavors into one ultimate cookie, she wouldn’t notice that I was still single. There was always so much pressure to hurry up and settle down. My younger siblings’ kids had freshly grown out of the cute phase and were now marching their way through the screaming toddler phase, which meant my mother’s attention had shifted back to me, strongly hinting that it was well past my turn to pop out a few grandbabies.
Did I want babies? Absolutely! But I also wasn’t about to settle for some rando just because he had the right equipment. Did I know what I was looking for in the right guy? I mean… in theory. He had to be nice, funny, patient, but he would be more than the sum of his parts. I had this feeling I would know him when I met him.
What can I say, I was a romantic at heart.
The cab left town and climbed the steep road into the Cascade Mountains. The pine trees closed in around us, and a quiet hush seemed to settle over me. As stressed as I was about all the expectations being piled on top of me, a stillness calmed my frayed nerves. It almost felt like this was exactly where I was supposed to be.
I was dropped off out front of the main lodge, and the driver pulled my bags out of the trunk and set them in the snow. “Do you need help getting inside?” the driver asked, but he was already inching toward the driver’s seat, ready to get back to town.
“No, I’m sure the lodge has someone to help. Thank you.” I stood outside, waiting to see if a staff member would appear, but when they didn’t, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Dragging my heavy suitcase behind me, the wheels clogged with snow, I made my way inside.
The main reception area was strangely empty, with only a harried-looking man at the desk. His nametag said his name was Branson, and he appeared to be sweating. When he saw me walk in, he visibly gulped.
“Uh, good evening, sir. Checking in?” He grimaced, and I got the impression he hoped my answer was no, that I was just hauling this suitcase around for shits and giggles. He’d clearly had a long day.
“Yes, Fable Everly.”
“R-Right,” he stuttered, turning to check his computer. “So, uh, you’re in cabin 5 with… uh…”
