Page 34 of Still See You Everywhere

“Umm…”

“Remember that whole conversation you and I had just twelve hours ago about everyone helping everyone else out?”

The one where you lied to me? I go with: “That was only half a day ago?”

This earns me a fresh glare. “Pack the cooler and meet Ronin by the rec hall. If it makes you feel any better, once you return this afternoon, Trudy and Ann will take you to the owner’s lodge. MacManus has moved up his schedule. Big storm coming. He’s decided to arrive early rather than be delayed.”

“Meaning I need to prepare for his arrival today versus tomorrow.” I almost know what’s going on.

Just in time for Vaughn to stalk away without a backward glance. No doubt about it, something’s up.

When I enter the rear of the kitchen, Trudy and Ann are already at work, moving around the space in their unique little dance. Even here, however, I feel tension. Serving platters banged onto the countertop with more force than necessary. Utensils rattling as Ann searches too anxiously. Refrigerator door slamming shut as Trudy snatches fresh fruit too impatiently.

She glances over first. “Sandwich fixings on the counter. Ronin is a vegetarian, prefers a hummus wrap. What’s your favorite?”

“Peanut butter and jelly.”

“Oldie but goodie,” Ann calls out.

“Favorite jelly?” Trudy wants to know.

“Grape!”

“Public school?” Ann asks sagely.

“Better believe it.”

Trudy points to the fridge. “Got some in the door. Sliced bread, bottom shelf. You a crusts-cut-off kinda gal?”

“Only when I’m wearing a tiara.”

“Knew we’d like you,” Ann assures me.

Trudy’s already back to whisking a bowl of thin batter. For crepes, I realize. I’m going to miss the special crepes breakfast. Now I’m in the same bad mood as everyone else.

Now doesn’t seem to be the time to fish for answers to my growing list of questions, so instead I wash my hands and get to work. I throw together four sandwiches, two for Ronin and two for me, since I gather they’re going to be our lunch as well as our non-crepes breakfast. I hunt down chips and oranges. When I return, a soft-sided cooler has magically appeared, as well as some curiously stiff different-sized squares of wax-coated fabric. I hold them up in total confusion.

“To wrap the sandwiches,” Trudy calls over her shoulder.

“Just say no to plastic bags,” Ann adds.

Huh. I experiment with the squares, discovering that they fold around the food items snugly enough and seal after a bit of pressing with the heat of my fingers.

In lieu of ice packs, the walk-in freezer offers up an array of reusable water bottles, filled to the brim and frozen solid. They are to chill the food at the beginning of the trip, thawing into a hydrating resource by the end, I deduce.

I’ve stayed on tribal lands that had limited access to indoor plumbing and housing projects that offered up brown sludge as the only showering option. I’m not sure what to make of a place like this that has both a sense of abundance and conservation. It hurts my head, but maybe in a good way.

The cooler is nearly groaning in water weight by the time I sling the strap over my shoulder and careen my way toward the rec center. I still have only the vaguest notion of where things are, but apparently I did a pretty good job of guessing as I spot Ronin loading up gear into the back of a rugged utility vehicle that looks like a cross between a golf cart and a Humvee. He has a machete strapped to his belt. It doesn’t make me feel terribly great about our morning plans.

He glances up when I approach, his expressionless features tight around the eyes.

“Vaughn asked me to help you out this morning.”

He nods, gestures toward the cooler. “Thank you.”

“Trudy and Ann said you were partial to hummus wraps. I made two, heavy on the veggies.”

I keep my voice light, nearly chipper. In contrast, Ronin nods curtly.

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