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Hannah entered his name into the search bar. But there was very little else about him. No social media profiles, which usually popped up first. Nothing on ConnectIn, which was odd for a businessman. As she continued to scroll, she found a brief article about him and his new cabins in theSleepy Ridge Gazette. It was from a few years ago and hid behind a paywall. All she could see was the headline: Native Son to Restore Old Properties for Vacation Rentals, a Boon for the Revitalization of Sleepy Ridge.
Outside Hannah’s glass doors, a great blue heron squawked, loud, annoyed by something. She looked up in time to see it flapping from his perch on the neighbor’s boat hull. His long wings and limbs in graceless flight were cast against the silvery gray moonlit sky.
Hannah went back to scrolling through images of the cabin, looking at the palette of green and brown, the towering old growth trees. She could almost smell the crisp, cooler air. It was already blazing hot here. She, her dad, and her brother had camped in the Sleepy Ridge area often when she was younger. Maybe that was it; Mako wanted to reconnect with those peaceful times when it was just the three of them (Sophia wasnotthe camping type), the air cool, the green trees, the fire crackling. Itwouldbe great. Wouldn’t it?
Her phone pinged and Hannah knew it could only be one person since it was after 1:00 in the morning. Her longtime best friend and fellow insomniac Cricket.
You up?
Yeah. You okay?
Packing for the big weekend! Can’t wait!
Me, too.
She clicked over to Cricket’s Instagram, saw a post of her lunch that day—a yummy-looking cobb salad which made Hannah’s stomach groan. She thought about snacking but then stopped herself. She was trying not to eat for twelve hours at least between dinner and breakfast.
How’s the new guy?
Dare I say it: Dreamy. I’m—gaga. He might be special, Han!
Hannah scrolled through Cricket’s feed for a picture of the mysterious new boyfriend. They’d been seeing each other for a while, and Cricket had yet to post anything. Usually she was the queen of oversharing. She was quiet about this one. Maybe that was a good sign.
Can’t wait to meet him! xo
Worried about leaving Gigi?
A little.
Don’t be. I have a feeling. This is going to be amazing—for all of us. Get some sleep so we can stay up late and party tomorrow night. That hot tub is calling my name!
Mine, too!
See you tomorrow, bestie.
Hannah smiled, imagining Cricket’s ebullient laugh, her infectious enthusiasm for food, music, games, gummies, cocktails—anything and everything that augmented fun. Hannahneededa good long catch-up with her old friend, and hoped the new guy wasn’t clingy, or a dick, or—whatever. But the chances were good. Cricket had legendary bad taste when it came to the men in her life.
Whatever—they’d make the best of it. They always did.
Just on a whim, Hannah entered “Elegant Overlook rental cabin in Sleepy Ridge Georgia reviews” in the search bar.
There was a whole long list of entries that had nothing to do with the place where they were staying—other listings on common vacation rental sites. She scrolled through page one, page two, page three—the way her brother had taught her.Sometimes the things you want to know are buried deep—fixers and hiders have gotten very good at burying bad press deep beyond where anyone has the attention span to look.
There on the fourth page of listings, was a personal travel blog: Ben’s Vacation Adventures. She clicked on the link. The site looked homespun, not laid out well, poor images, typos, background just a dull gray. The date of the entry was a couple of years ago. Acob-website, Bruce would call it. Something someone set up and then forgot.
There was a short entry about one of the smaller cabins, next to a few poor-quality pictures of the interior and exterior.
We stayed here to go hiking. But the host was weird, and the place was—how to put it?—creepy. The host was bent on telling us ghost stories about another property he was building, and it frankly upset my wife. She said she couldn’t get comfortable and felt like she was being watched. We left after the first night. He didn’t have to refund our money but he did. I thought it was okay; my wife is sensitive to energies. But obviously we won’t be going back.
Hannah felt a tingle of unease. Creepy? Felt like they were being watched?
She quickly quashed it. What was she going to do? In a sea of positive reviews, and the freight train of her brother’s desire, call attention to a years-old, poorly written review by a failed travel blogger about another property?
No. She wasn’t going to do this.
Hannah, if she was being honest,hadbeen looking for reasons to bail on this trip. But it was too late. In a few hours they’d be on their way, and she was going to make the best of it, use it to remind her husband what it was like to be the center of her attention.
She’d make sure, in Mako’s words, that it wasepicfor both of them.
