Secluded Cabin Sleeps Six(18)

This was an Architectural Digest dream, expansive with towering windows and vaulted roof. There was a huge wraparound porch, another big balcony on the level above, both furnished with plush seating. Elegant landscaping cast shadows on the circular drive as Bruce brought the car to a stop. Through the double-height glass front doors, she could see inside to the beautifully appointed living space. Was that a bear head mounted over the mantel, though?

“Wow,” Bruce echoed. “Leave it to Mako.”

Now he seemed tense. His shoulders were slightly hiked. Something about her brother and his ways. She knew that much. She put her hand on his shoulder and felt him relax beneath her palm.

“Hannah.” Bruce turned to her. And on his face, there was an expression she hadn’t seen before. Something in her clenched. All her doubts and worries clamored for attention again.

“I—”

I’m having an affair.

I need a break.

I hate your family.

But then Mako was bursting out the front door, Liza behind him waving. Hannah felt an irresistible pull to them, started moving to get out, wanting space from whatever dark thing Bruce was going to reveal.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered when he put his hand on her arm.

But that dark expression was gone. And it was just Bruce again, a half smile blooming on his lips. Lips she intended to kiss a lot this weekend. Because that’s what they needed—more kissing, less talking, less worrying.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just sorry—for making you worry. I’m sorry that I can’t always tell you everything.”

“It’s okay,” she said, and meant it. “I trust you.”

“Can you believe this place?” Mako boomed, opening her door and offering a hand to pull her into his embrace. “What did I tell you?”

“It’s amazing,” she said, feeling his strength, his solidity. Her brother.

She looked around at deep evergreen contrasting the brightness of the cerulean sky, the stunning view of the purple mountains behind the house. The air was clean, filling her lungs. Suddenly, she felt a million miles away from their mundane day-to-day, from their problems, her worries.

If Gigi were with them, she could see herself staying in this peaceful place forever.





7


Bracken

Bracken took pleasure in sizing them up. He was good at that. Observing body language, and choice of clothing brands, tone of voice, types of cars. Apple watch? Fitbit? Dyed hair? How much makeup? From his place in the trees, he’d watched the Tesla drift up. Sleek and black, quiet but powerful like a shark. On the phone, the wife Liza had referred to her husband as Mako. Like the shark, she’d said. But his credit card said Michael. Telling.

They were early.

Bracken had been hiking the trails behind the house, making sure they were clear in case the guests decided to explore. His truck was parked a ways down the road at the trailhead. He stood back out of sight.

The man in the passenger side of the car got out first, looked around and let out a cry of delight. Tall, broad, wearing piped athletic pants, blue T-shirt, light gray hoodie and expensive running shoes—Nikes that Bracken happened to know cost over three hundred dollars since he himself had recently been shopping for running shoes. The guest had a thick head of inky black hair, pulled back in a loose ponytail, was handsome in a boyish way.

“Wow!” he said, voice booming. “Look at this place. It’s AH-mazing.”

Bracken felt a rush of pride. It was amazing. The pristine land, the house he’d built himself.

The slight woman in the driver’s seat stayed behind a moment. She wore a tight ponytail, little or no makeup, hair a natural reddish brown as far as he could tell from a distance. He’d liked her right away when they’d talked yesterday. Her energy was quiet.

Her husband’s energy not quiet.

“This place is fantastic,” the man said again. “What do you think, babe?”

His voice bounced off the air and the trees. A big voice for the big man.

Babe. Bracken really hated that word for some reason. It was so—common. Anyone could see that the woman was anything but. Bracken definitely wouldn’t call her babe. Maybe love. Maybe darlin.

But she was looking at her phone, her expression dark. People could not put those damn devices away. No matter how much agitation they caused. And she was supposedly a yoga teacher.

His guest looked around, up at the sky, toward the trees where Bracken stood hidden in the shadows. He should just walk out and introduce himself, but he didn’t. He heard the other man draw in and release a long, slow breath. There was something on his face that Bracken didn’t expect. A deep skein of worry. Not the arrogant blankness he’d expected. And something else. Was it fear? He seemed to inspect the trees, the road that led to the house. What was he looking for?

The trunk of the car opened as he approached it, revealing that it was packed to the gills. Suitcases, backpacks, coolers, all high-end brands, items with high price tags but the same made-in-China crap like everything else.

Who would pay four hundred dollars for a cooler when sixty dollars would buy you something that worked just as well, was better designed, more practical? Very typical of a certain set. Look at me! Look what I can buy! He shouldn’t complain. It was just that type of person who rented the house he’d built here on the twenty acres of land he owned. And his livelihood depended on them.