There’s a small balcony on the second floor, right above the bright red door, and there is some wood stacked up on the side. It’s got kind of a modern camping vibe to it and I’m surprised to find that I like it.
The sign on the roof is a little dirty but the rest of the property actually looks well taken care of. There are a few cars parked off to the side in the gravel parking lot and I wonder if I should have parked over there instead.
A sign points me to the gift shop and I decide to head in that direction. It feels good to walk and I stretch my arms out, trying to loosen the knots in my back and shoulders.
It’s beautiful out. The sun is just starting to set and there’s a gentle breeze blowing in from the water. You can see the lake from here and I take a moment to enjoy the view. The bridge is a little ways off, stretching out in the distance. The lighthouse blocks part of it from view, but it’s still nice.
“Welcome to the Mystery Cabin!” A scratchy old voice booms out and I jolt, my head jerking to identify the person who said that.
There, standing on the small porch underneath the welcome sign, is my great-uncle Stan. I recognize him from the picture that was up on the Mystery Cabin’s website.
He’s wearing the same suit, the same old-timey top hat as in the picture as well. His cane tap, tap, taps against the wood porch as he makes his way over to me, a slightly predatory gleam in his eye, like he’s wondering if I’m going to be an easy mark.
“Hi,” I say, unsure if he knows who I am.
I guess I should have figured out how I was going to introduce myself before I got here. I’m saved from having to say it though.
As soon as he gets within three feet of me, his eyes widen and then harden slightly.
“Sutton,” he states, his voice flat and I’m thrown off by his attitude.
I guess this isn’t going to be the friendly family reunion that I had planned out in my head.
“Yeah, hi,” I say awkwardly.
His eyes dart behind me to the car packed full of my belongings, then land back on me.
“Where’s your mom?” He asks bluntly and I realize that he doesn’t know.
That explains why he wasn’t at the funeral, I guess.
“My mom—”
My voice cuts off, the words lodging in my throat and I have to pause, blink back the tears, and clear my throat before I can get them out.
“My mom, well, she passed away.”
He might be an old grouch but he cared about my mom. I can see the news hit him, the sadness covering him like a blanket. He looks away from me, but not before I see the hint of a sheen of tears in his eyes.
Maybe he’s not so bad after all.
“She left me a letter and told me about you. She wanted me to give you this,” I whisper, digging his letter out of my purse and passing it to him.
He takes it and I can see his fingers shaking slightly. He makes no move to open it in front of me, so I continue on.
“She asked me to come here in her letter. She wanted me to spend the summer here with you. She said that I could work in the gift shop. I guess I assumed that she had talked to you about all of this.”
I had just said that I was on my way to Destiny Falls in my email, but now that I’m here, I’m wondering if I should have mentioned that my mom died and that I was coming to stay and work for him for the summer. Maybe it wouldn’t be so awkward right now if I had.
“She did. A while ago. I thought that you had said no.”
“I didn’t. I didn’t even know about you or this place until after she was gone.”
He grunts, eyeing me skeptically before he nods and turns back toward the cabin.
“This is the Mystery Cabin. I also own the Pines Motel and Cabins,” he says, pointing off to the forest. “It’s just beyond those trees.”
“Can I stay there? I didn’t really think about lodging when I drove up here.”
“You can stay here with me. The cabins and motel are for paying customers.”
I roll my eyes at that but don’t try to argue with him or offer to pay to stay there.
“I’ll get Teller,” Uncle Stan says before he disappears inside the cabin.
“Who the hell is Teller?” I mumble, trailing after him.
“I am,” comes a deep voice and I startle again.
What is it with the people around here?
I have to squint but then I see the man. He’s kneeling behind some exhibit, a toolbox by his feet.
“Uh, hi, I’m Sutton, Stan’s great-niece,” I say, taking a step into the room.
It looks like it’s a hardware store in here and I wonder if this is one of the attractions of the Mystery Cabin.
“Ah, Marianne’s daughter,” Teller says, standing and wiping his hands off on his jeans.
He steps closer to me, into the light and I swallow when I get my first glimpse of him. He’s wearing a plain black T-shirt that’s tight, straining around his biceps and across his chest. Blue jeans are half-tucked into a pair of work boots. Shaggy black hair frames a rugged face that has my panties dampening.
My body’s reaction both shocks me and pisses me off.
I’ve never had much interest in the opposite sex and certainly never felt such a strong pull toward a guy before and I can’t figure out what it is about Teller that has me feeling like this. I swore off men until I was settled into a good job and was self-sufficient after my prom date stood me up. I hadn’t even wanted to go to prom but my mom had convinced me that I would regret not going.
It pisses me off too because this isn’t how this is supposed to go. Falling in love and dating are not in my plans right now.
My future is what’s important right now. I need to stick to the plan. I can worry about guys later, I remind myself.
Flashbacks of my prom date standing me up, of my dad slamming in the door in my face, of the childhood bullies who picked on me and told me that no one would want me because we were poor hit me and the walls that I keep around me harden.
His blue eyes are locked on me and I get the feeling that he can see more than I want him to. His smile though is friendly and I find myself relaxing.
“Yeah. Did you know my mom?” I ask him.
“I met her once. She came out here to see the Mystery Cabin and Stan last year. She didn’t stay long but she seemed like a really nice lady. Is she with you?” he asks.
“No, I… she passed away a few weeks ago.”
Those words still aren’t getting any easier to say and I have to look away after I say them.
“Shit. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks,” I say, clearing my throat.
“Teller! There you are,” my uncle says as he joins us. “This is my great-niece, Sutton.”
“I know. I just met her,” Teller says with a teasing grin.
My uncle Stan just glares at him, tipping his hat back a little.
“We have the next group set to go through in fifteen minutes. Show Sutton around before then. She’s going to stay here. She can have the attic.”
“The attic?” Teller asks and I get a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“Yes. You’ll have to clean it up a little bit,” Stan warns me and I give him my fakest smile.
“Sounds great.”
I think both men know that I’m lying but I’m too tired to care. It’s a free room. I suppose that I can’t really complain all that much.