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“I wrote his reservation down in the logbook right here, Matthew. Look.” The co-owner, Gretchen, shows Matthew her spiral notebook while Matthew is looking on, slightly exasperated.
“Babe, I don’t know what to tell you. I followed proper procedure and entered the Reeve reservations into the system via the spreadsheet after her card was approved through the vacation rental app. We
talked about the need to do this.”
“We did talk about it,” Gretchen replies sweetly, “but I hadn’t had time to enter this gentleman’s information into the system before the time stamp on your email. I took the phone call in the middle of checking in other guests.”
“Sweetheart, I told you, you have to come find me when you’re overwhelmed,” the husband replies.
I look from the husband to the wife. “But this is why you put it in the physical book if you take a reservation online, even if you put it in the spreadsheet, or I might not see it,” she’s telling him. “So I’ll see it on paper.”
“Digital information supersedes a phone conversation,” Matthew says.
I don’t know what this husband is expecting, but he’s not going to win this argument.
The only real problem I see here is I don’t have the key to my room yet. I’ve been driving all morning from downstate to get here, and I should be on the lake with a fish on my line by now. This domestic misunderstanding is eating into my two weeks’ vacation of fishing, eating, and drinking beer while staring into a campfire, sleeping, waking up, and starting all over again.
I plan on only one break in that routine: On Friday, I’m going to tour the locks up in Sault Ste. Marie. The locks on the Saint Mary’s River connect Lake Huron to Lake Superior, and every year, the US Army Corps of Engineers opens up the locks to the public for tours. It’s one of my favorite nerdy activities and I look forward to it every year.
How nerdy am I? I am a frequent reader of BoatNerdgasm.com, which reports on all the freighter ships passing through the locks every day, and I have memorized the names of every ship and its country of origin. So pretty fuckin’ nerdy.
But right now, I just want the keys to my cabin. And instead, I’m stuck in a loopy game of spousal conflict.
Gretchen taps a pencil to her chin and finally shrugs. “I’ll have to call around town and see if anyone has any openings for the lady,” she says to her husband.
A knot of guilt twists in my gut. Call me old-fashioned, but the knowledge that it’s a woman who’s getting the shaft makes me feel worse. I mean, I’m not giving up my cabin, but I’ll feel bad about it.
“I’ll have my key now,” I say, holding out my open hand.
Gretchen smiles apologetically for the delay as she opens a desk drawer to find my key.
Matthew’s stern façade is crumbling. “My love, this is why I showed you how to use a spreadsheet.”
She pouts at him. “And I asked you to check the physical book instead of doing everything automatically online.”
Matthew rubs his temples. “Why do you refuse to join the digital age? You’re like a feral mermaid.”
The tone in his voice is suggestive, and it sort of makes me feel dirty, like I shouldn’t be witnessing this.
“You like me feral.”
Somebody save me, this feels like a little game between them. Are they going to start humping right here on the office desk? Do I need to cover the eyes of the fake moose head that’s mounted on the wall? And those of the poor little cuckoo bird in the clock?
Gretchen finally hands over my key, and that’s when she walks in: the person who was double-booked for my cabin, I presume.
Her friendly eyes quickly transform into confused and wary when she reads the room. Soft waves of hair brush her bare shoulders, exposed in a checked halter top. Below that, her denim shorts have been cut off so high I can see the ends of her front pockets. If it weren’t for her bare fingernails and practical-looking sneakers, she’d look like a curvy pinup model. But the most arresting thing about her is a pair of familiar eyes that communicate openness and kindness. I need to know her. I will know her. As crazy as it sounds, I know right then and there I’m looking at my future wife.
Gretchen and Matthew can make all the calls they want, but this lady is not going anywhere. Because I’m not letting this person out of my sight.
Chapter 3
Penny
I can’t believe I’m back here.
I arrive at Rocky Shores Resort and my first thought is, Everything is the same. There’s the sparkling lake, the rickety dock, fir and birch trees lining the shore, a scrubby patch of sand where my sister and I used to fight over the sandcastle buckets, the firepit, and about ten quaint log cabins that look like they came straight out of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Some have two bedrooms, but I’ve rented one of the smaller cabins.
I park my car at the main office and go inside, where instantly I’m slapped by a chaotic energy I wasn’t expecting. There are the three bears all right—a frazzled mama on the phone, an angry papa bear with flames shooting out of his ears, and an overgrown, annoyed teddy bear with so much sinew in his forearms that my knees tremble.
