Page 16 of Our Little Cliche
“Oh. Awater.”
“Yes,wor-ter,” I try to mimic a Canadian accent. Bloody hell, I’ve said water that many times I don’t even know ifI’msaying it right. He pours a glass with some ice, and while getting a brain freeze I realize I’ve almost forgotten what I even came here for.
Keys.
To my empty house.
Dread overwhelms me for a moment. Susan should be here right now. I guess the weather is a little crap, maybe she’s caught in it? Feeling a slight nudge of regret and despair in the pit of my stomach, I sigh.
This is all a scam… I know it.
Oh, god. Where will I live?
“Excuse me?” I grab the waiter’s attention again. “Do you know Susan Kivert?”
“The real estate agent? Yeah, of course.”
Thank god. She’s legit.“Could you put me in contact with her at all? I don’t have data roaming,” I admit.How embarrassing.
He pours a drink for someone else, then points to the stairs behind me with his free hand. “She’s right behind you.” I turn around to see a woman who looks like the photos in my emails. Susan. Wearing a thick, fluffy coat down to her knees, and a scarf wrapped around her neck, greeting a few people as she walks up the stairs.
Susan flicks a look through the people at the bar, stopping at me. “You’re too tanned to be from around here, you must be Holly.” Her voice is even warmer in person than it is over the phone, and my emotions override me. All I want to do is cry. “Oh, honey.”
We mingle at the bar, making small talk about my hometown, and the cabin I signed a lease to. She even bought me a glass of wine, and a bowl of chips… err sorryfrench fries. I don’t know what I did to deserve her kindness, but I will forever be in her debt.
Susan hands me a gift bag with the key to my new place tied around the neck of a bottle of red wine. “Now, I’ve already got the fire running inside for you to warm the place up, but you’ll have to chop more tomorrow as that was all I had. There is anaxe next to a fallen log on the side of the property. Given your situation, I’ve filled a cooler box with a few necessities thanks to some locals here who have chipped in to help, and there’s a blow up mattress with some duvets by the fireplace. I’m going to call you a cab now as I need to go home to my nice warm bed, it should be waiting out the front in about ten minutes. But I’d stay in here until you see it turn up as you’ll freeze to death out there in those clothes.”
“Susan, you?—”
“I’ll come around tomorrow as I’ll be in the area doing a walk through. We can look at some jobs together, if you still need one that is?” Her generosity tugs at my heartstrings. I never ask for handouts, and yet here she is, giving me the kindness of necessities to live off, and something to sleep on for the next month or so until my stuff arrives.
Even though this entire situation is the aftermath of a boozed upstupidbreakdown, Susan had never once judged me for it. “Susan, this is too much I—” She cuts me off again.
“Please. It’s okay. That’s what we’re like ’round here.” Her smile coaxes the tear to fall from my eye that had been lingering there since she spoke. “Now you just get home and settle in. Oh, and take these too.”
She hands me a plastic bagfullof what looks like secondhand winter clothes. The rustle of plastic scrunching in my hand is almost nostalgic. A distant memory as I haven’t seen, or felt a plastic bag in years due to them being banned in Australia.
The garments are a little stale smelling, but nonetheless, they’re clothes that are warmer than this stupid cotton spandex tee that I have on—which did absolutely nothing to hide my nipples by the way.
Erect nipples… a common side effect of seeing the world’s sexiest man.
“Goodbye, Holly.”
“Thank you,” I say genuinely as I squash the bag into my suitcase.
Before leaving, I look over the heads of the people around me, but the sexy mystery nerd is nowhere in sight. My heart sinks a little, for reasons I can’t pinpoint.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
There is not a single beam of light in sight other than the car behind us keeping its distance, and the odd car driving past in the opposite direction. It’s so unlike the Gold Coast, where there were street lights everywhere, plus the lights from the city. It was the same coming on the bus from the airport, there were no lights. Pitch black is obviously something I’m going to have to get used to.
The driver pulls up to the same cabin from the photos with a little porch light on, the windows glowing orange from what I assume is the fireplace in the living room.
Holy shit it’s cold here.
Way colder than Australian winters, and even colder than Canmore. I grab my suitcase from the trunk, throwing my tote bag over my shoulder. “Thanks!” I say, fumbling with the key and wine in my other hand.
I take two steps towards the front door when?—
