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I face the red door and take a deep breath. Tugging my mitts off with my teeth, I stuff them in my pockets and blow on both my palms before practically strangling the knob between them. This time, as I turn it, I shove my entire body weight into it, slamming against the door with my shoulder.
Finally, it cracks open. “Aha!” I can’t help but feel proud of my minor accomplishment. Look at me. Maybe this city girl has a few tricks up her sleeve after all. The door swings in, giving me my first glimpse inside. My eyes adjust to the dark and I kick the snow free from my boots so I won’t trample it inside.
Whoosh!
I don’t have time to figure out the sound let alone react to it. A perch of snow slips free from the roof over the doorway and covers my head, face, and shoulders in about a foot of the white, fluffy stuff.
“Damn it!” I frantically brush the cold, rapidly melting landslide from my body. I shake my head like a dog that just got bathed and it goes flying in every direction. It takes a second, but I finally get cleaned off and slip inside before anything else has the chance to go wrong. Shutting the door behind me, I glance around the simple loft.
“It’s not bad, actually.” I nod my head and soak in the details. The living room has a large, stone fireplace. It’s a bit gloomy right now, but it’s easy to picture it with a cozy, inviting fire. It looks exactly like the kind that I would have a new romantic couple hang their stockings on in one of my novels.
There’s a set of steep wooden steps, they’re actually so steep they might as well be a ladder, that leads to an open bedroom loft.
The kitchen is simple but seems to have everything I could need to cook. There’s a fridge, stove, sink, and butcher block counters to chop veggies or make meals on. I peek into the washroom and it’s far from luxurious, but it will do the trick. I think I can work with this simple design. It’ll be nice to have a distraction-free environment to lose track of myself in. I just want to get lost in the serenity and bring yet another sweet Christmas couple to life in my next manuscript.
Zzzche-zzzche!
My eyes dart around, searching for the source of that noise. What on earth?
It’s not coming from inside though. Frowning, I swing the door open and step back outside where the terrible sound chews up the peaceful atmosphere and grinds against my eardrums. Stepping back out, it doesn’t take long to spot the source. Two men down at the other cabin are revving huge, loud chainsaws. My lips tug down and my frown deepens as I watch them buzz their saws through the base of a huge tree. It sounds like ten million mosquitoes on steroids, all thirstily hunting for a blood source. Finally, they stop the awful noise and the tree cracks and crashes to the ground under their control.
It’s hard not to be impressed by the manly way they make nature bend to their will. The two of them are clearly experienced, with their thick muscular arms and broad backs. I bite my lip and a heat washes down over me like I just stepped off a plane onto a tropical tarmac in the midday sun.
Zzzche-zzzche.
The men make quick work of cutting through the fallen tree, turning what was only seconds ago a towering reminder of how the unspoiled countryside must have looked a hundred years ago into eight-foot logs. The noise seems to grow louder as they let their saws chew through the lumber, oblivious to me watching them.
I snap back to reality and realize that these guys are going to ruin everything. How am I supposed to get any writing done with all this noise? I study the two burly, wild men. How am I going to meet my deadline with all of these distractions?
I can’t.
There’s just no way I’m going to get any words written when they’re chewing through the forest with their chainsaws. My agent was supposed to specifically request a quiet, peaceful retreat. Not this. No one can work with this.
I shake my head and push my glasses up my nose. Each time they buzz their saws, my temper flares, and my patience diminishes. Finally, I’ve had enough. I’m not about to spend two weeks here trying to fight for the calm cabin I’m paying for from my book advance. No way. I’m going to march down this hill and get those lumberjacks to stop all their racket, or else they can give me a full refund.
2
Hardy
The chainsaw bites into the wood, chewing through the thick trunk effortlessly. I love the smell of the fresh cut tree mixed with the exhaust from our saws. Tiny bits of sawdust float around us, falling down into our hair like snowflakes. If we keep up our pace, we’ll have no problem getting this last shipment of carefully chosen, quality logs out before Christmas.
