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How many times have they come in here? Could they have cameras hidden in this house? What sort of game are they playing with us? Could they be trying to get us to leave so they get free money for our stay?
It has to be something else, but I just can’t see what.
And why would the owners next door allow them to stay there and then lie to us about it?
With our bags packed—and without doing any of the cleaning items on their list—we make our way to the foyer and wait for our ride to arrive.
“I hate this so much,” Mara whispers, her voice low and teary.
“We’re getting out of here,” Logan says, pulling Paulette into his side with a kiss to the top of her head. “That’s what matters.”
I notice she’s changed into a new shirt. This one has Dolly Parton riding a winged opossum over a Waffle House. Despite our circumstances, it makes me laugh, and that feels strange to me.
This weekend feels like it’s lasted a year, and I haven’t laughed or smiled the entire time.
Memphis moves closer to me, his arm brushing mine, his finger looping with my pinkie for just a second. “What time are they supposed to get here?”
I check the app, hoping my cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “Another fifteen minutes.”
“We have time for a group photo then,” Paulette says. “At least one.”
“Oh, good idea,” Logan says.
We huddle together, and I pull out my phone, snapping a selfie of the six of us. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to look at this photo without remembering how I’m feeling in this moment—confused and terrified more than anything else.
“Have you heard from Ethan yet?” Paulette asks Austin. “I’d hate for him to get here after we leave, but shouldn’t he have been here by now?”
Austin checks his phone and shakes his head. “Nothing yet. Maybe his flight was delayed.”
“Did you check it?” I ask.
“I don’t have the number.”
Just then, my phone begins vibrating, and I look down to see a call coming in from our driver. “It’s our driver. Everyone,shhh.” I place the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Um, hi. It’s Darren, your driver. We, uh, we have a problem.” He sounds oddly entertained by this problem.
My stomach drops. “What do you mean?”
“I’m trying to get to you, but there’s a tree down in the middle of the road I need to take.”
“Can’t you go another way?”
“It’s the road you’re on. Buchanan. There’s no way around.” He sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m going to have to cancel the ride.”
“No, wait!” I shout. Everyone around me moves closer. “How far away are you?”
“I’m at the cross street of Buchanan. But as soon as I try to turn onto it, the road is completely blocked.” He sounds as stressed as I feel.
“So, you’re just at the end of the road? We can walk to you. Can you stay where you are if we come to you?” I clutch the phone with both hands.
“I can’t wait around all night,” he says hesitantly. “I can give you maybe twenty minutes to get here, but I have to get home before my wife leaves for work to watch our son.”
“We’ll get there. Please…please don’t leave us. It’s an emergency.”
“You have twenty minutes,” he says. “At twenty-one minutes, though, I have to go. I’m sorry. There’s no way I can push the timeline like that.”
“We’ll be there.” I end the call and look at the others. “There’s a tree down in the road. He can’t get to us. He’s willing to wait twenty minutes, but we have to hurry.” I pull the handle of my suitcase up, rolling it toward the door.
