Page 7 of The Other Half

Since none of the locals would know me, and he was confident none of them read the tabloids around New York chronicling my lavish lifestyle, it would be the perfect place to try living amongst the other half. With the summer season in full swing, he was also confident I could find a job without too much trouble since the tourists were here in droves and apparently finding summer help was hard. Without a single job on my resume, I needed desperate employers willing to give me a chance.

The driveway wound through thick trees that stretched higher than my neck could crane. When I took the last turn, I slammed on the brakes, gravel grinding beneath my tires as dust plumed around me.

“This can’t be right,” I whispered while I stared at the dilapidated cabin sitting at the end of the turnaround.

No. This must be the wrong address. I checked my GPS again. The little dot had me sitting at the destination and my heart hammered when I looked up and saw the matching numbers hanging above the doorway. The six at the end had fallen and dangled over the doorframe resembling a nine, but that was definitely the address he’d given me.

“No. No, no, no, no, NO!” I shouted, banging my fists on the steering wheel. When Grandpa said we had a “cabin” in Door County, I thought he meant something akin to our cabin in Cape Cod. A few thousand square feet, renovated, and more Martha Stewart beach chic than a cabin I may have seen in a horror movie. The dark wood constructing the small box shaped house was faded and cracked. A ripped screen door sat askew on its hinges, and years of leaves and branches fallen in storms littered the yard and the small porch on the front.

Unable to believe this is where Grandpa would want his one and only granddaughter living, I picked up my phone and pressed his number.

“Hello, darling. Did you find the car and make it to Door County all right?”

I could hear the amusement in his voice, and it answered my question. Of course he knew the state of the car I currently sat in. He’d done this to me.

“Hi, Grandpa. I found it. Thank you for getting me a car,” I said, trying to keep from shrieking about my mortification that I was driving around looking like that serial killer I’d have avoided. No. I needed to show him I was capable of living without the means and money I’d never been without. “I am here safe and sound. I think.”

“You think? What do you mean?” Concern clouded his voice.

“I’m just double checking the address of the cabin I’m staying at. I think I’m here but it’s... well, seen better days. I’m not sure if this is the right place and I don’t want to break into someone’s house by accident.” I covered my true feelings which were prompting me to scream out a question like how in the hell he expected me to set foot in that place, let alone live there. Staying at a four-star hotel was a stretch for me, and this place looked like a comfy-cozy cabin for the Unabomber.

He rattled off the address, and I gulped when it confirmed the cabin in front of me.

“Yep. This is it.”

“I was only there fishing a few times with your father decades ago, but I’m sure it will suffice. It was much nicer than the shack I grew up in. Is there a problem?” That amusement returned to his voice, verifying he was well-aware of its state. It seemed in this new life he wanted me looking and living like a serial killer.

Refusing to let him in on my internal horror, I inhaled a stilling breath. “No, it’s great. This will work fine I’m sure. I just wanted to make sure I was at the right place.”

“Good luck, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.”

Proud. That wasn’t something anyone had been of me since before my parents died and I went down the rabbit hole into the life that had landed me here. Hearing that word refilled my resolve to make this work and prove to him I could be a better person, one capable of continuing his legacy. “Thank you, Grandpa. I miss you already.”

“I miss you, too.”

We hung up, and I looked down at Poppy who stood on my lap, her bug-eyes scanning out the window into the woods... the first time she’d ever been in woods.

“Looks like we’re home, Poppy.” I turned off the car engine and it sounded like a gun went off when it backfired. My scream rivaled the sound of the boom still echoing through the quiet woods.

After calming down from my start, I joined Poppy in scanning the surroundings, searching for bears or anything that might gobble us up for lunch. The car door creaked when I pushed it open, then I hooked up Poppy’s leash. I didn’t dare let her off it for fear she might run straight into the jaws of one of the many predators I pictured lurking in the trees. She hopped out and shook her body, then pressed her flat nose to the ground and searched for the perfect spot to potty after our long drive. While she examined the ground, I examined the surroundings. The quiet was startling, and without so much as a breeze, the only sounds I heard were Poppy’s feet crunching in the old leaves.

“You can do this,” I mumbled to myself, starting toward the shack with Poppy in tow. After she’d finished her business, I scooped her up in my arms and held her tight while stepping onto the wooden porch step. It bent beneath my modest weight and I cringed as I took the next one. The same bow in the wood swayed beneath my feet and I hurried onto the small porch, hoping I didn’t fall through. One cautious step after another, I made my way through the leaves to the door. Cringing while I reached out and touched the dirty handle, I pulled open the crooked screen door and then stuck my key in the lock. When I tried to turn it, nothing happened and I realized the door was already unlocked.

Worried that meant someone was already here, I carefully pressed the door open, calling into the dark cabin. “Hello?”

The moment I did it, I cursed at myself. I’d watched enough horror movies to know shouting ‘hello’ into the empty room only alerted the killer to your location and was swiftly followed by your own gruesome death scene. But when I started backing away, shielding Poppy from the upcoming attack, I looked back at my brown rusted car and realized that in this movie I was the serial killer. Or at least I felt that way.

“You’ll be safe in Door County,” I heard my grandfather’s words in my head while I stood in the doorway. “There’s no crime. No one locks their doors, and I feel confident it’s the safest place in the world for you to be while you go out on your own.”

He’d promised me there were no serial killers in Door County, and he’d also said no one locks the doors, so with his words driving me on, I stepped inside. The smell of must permeated my nostrils, and I waved away the dust that flew up when I stepped onto the old rug. Plaid curtains matching my brown and orange car hung from the windows and coordinated with the couch and single chair sitting in the center of the living room. A small dining table with two chairs sat beneath an inch of dust and the kitchen comprised an old stove, a green refrigerator and a sink covered with rust stains.

“Oh, God,” I breathed, struggling to keep from racing back outside. Impossible. It was impossible to imagine staying in this room for one more minute, let alone an entire summer, or however long Grandpa insisted on leaving me fending for myself before I earned my way back into his good graces. Digging as deep as I could into my resolve, I remembered if I gave in and left, I would just be confirming my grandpa’s suspicions. In his eyes, I was a spoiled socialite, undeserving of the family legacy. Since he’d grown up with meager means, he wanted me to experience his struggles.

I can do this.

Poppy sniffed the air and her already wrinkled face puckered even more when she sneezed out the dust still clouding around us as we moved toward the only two doors in the small room. Pushing one open I found a small bathroom with a toilet, shower stall, and sink in the same avocado color as the refrigerator. Gold sparkles embedded in the tiles on the floor caused me to cringe. Whoever decorated this cabin must have been blind or had a very dark sense of humor, I thought while I moved to the other door.

It was cracked open, and I peered inside to find a single bed pressed up against the lone window. The rough wooden logs constructing the frame looked right at home with the orange and brown plaid comforter draped over the mattress I assumed was about as comfortable as the back seat of the car. At the rate things were going, I wondered if sleeping in the car wouldn’t be a better idea.