Page 11 of Secluded Cabin Sleeps Six

“And you’re going to tell him, right?” said Bruce. She looked at up at him, feeling a little jolt of surprise. Did he know?

“Tell him what?”

He frowned. “About the house?”

They were currently renting and living in Mako’s old house. They hadn’t been ready to buy their own place when Mako upsized. Bruce and Hannah had moved into the spacious waterfront home, Mako’s old bachelor pad—complete with hot tub and outdoor kitchen—just after they got married. But they were ready to buy their own place now, Gigi’s home, the place where she would grow up. It was in the same neighborhood, but at the end of the finger island with expansive open water views. Their bid had been accepted and they were under contract. She was uneasy about telling her brother. But why should she be? He’d sell this house and make a fortune.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll tell him this weekend.”

Bruce looked at her, seemed about to say something, then didn’t.

His quietude was one of the things she first loved about him. The way he waited before he spoke, the way he listened when she talked. But he had a way of keeping things in for too long; he ruminated. He’d had a hard childhood—father left him and Lou when Bruce was just a kid. Lou, she knew, had worked two jobs to keep them afloat. And Bruce grew up feeling like he had to be strong, take care of his mom. Hannah thought he never really had a chance to be a kid; Hannah tried to make up for it—big parties for his birthday, an Xbox on the television in the den. He was stoic. Pushing him didn’t work; she had to wait for him to open up.

Which he would eventually.

She hoped.

Unless.

“It’s going to be great,” she said, looking up at his presidential profile—square jaw, ridged nose. He looked so tired. Even in the orange glow, she could see his fatigue.

He needed this getaway. She needed this.Theyneeded it.

But there was something.

She chalked up the rising tingle of unease to leaving Gigi for the first time. It was normal, wasn’t it? Of course it was. Perfectly normal.

They finished their wine in silence.

2

Trina

I watch. I am the watcher. From my place in the shadows, I see it all.

Tonight, the humidity is brutal, raising sweat on brow, on the back of my neck. The lights across the street go out one by one, until the house is sleeping.

You all have a long drive tomorrow.

So do I.

I stand beside a towering queen palm, blending in with the night. I’ve set this thing in motion, a great boulder that I leaned my weight against and now it’s tumbling down, ready to crush everything in its path. It has taken time and planning. More than six months. Multiple moving parts.

I sigh, listen to the singing of the frogs, the whisper of wind in palm fronds.

Do you remember the day you first met me? I certainly do. It was one of those perfect Florida mornings when the air is neither hot nor cold, where the sky is a crisp baby blue and the clouds happy white mountains in the air. This dank blanket of humidity that comes in late spring and lingers into late autumn hadn’t fallen yet.

The world felt clean.

Ifelt clean. Electric with purpose.

There was a lot of birdsong that day, if I recall correctly. More than usual, maybe. Yes. I remember thinking that when I woke up just as dawn was breaking. How happy the birds sounded outside my window. A mockingbird trilled, his call an overture of other birdcalls. It felt like a good omen.

That morning I practically leapt out of bed, got in the shower right away, not wanting to be late for the job interview that hadn’t been easy to get. I was determined to ace it.

I wanted you to want me as much as I wanted you.

And you did.

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