Speaking of which, the first job is to get the fireplace going so I don’t freeze to death, so once that’s done, I finish bringing all my stuff inside.
The weather doesn’t look too friendly. I’m glad I’ve brought enough food to last a while. I certainly don’t want to drive to the nearest town to buy groceries.
There’s a soft glow coming from the cabin next door. I guess the neighbors are spending Christmas here too. I bet their living conditions are a little more luxurious than mine.
“Don’t moan, Riley. You wanted this.”
I crack open a beer and take a swig. I made the rash decision to buy this cabin because there was no one to stop me. For the second time since I became an adult, whatever happened after I signed on the dotted line, I was doing something for myself. The first one being my divorce.
The couch in front of the fireplace is old but comfortable, and the comforter I bought covers the small tears.
There’s a dining table with two chairs that I found in a yard sale. Once they’re sanded and revarnished, they’ll look like new. That’s a summer job, but they’ll do for now.
I finish the beer and take the bag with my clothes to the bedroom.
Again, it’s a modest room with space for the bed, a chest of drawers, and a chair in the corner.
“Oh shit,” I say when I look out the window. The old curtains looked like they belonged in a crime scene, so I threw them away. I have a new set at home, but I’m sure I didn’t bring them with me. “I guess I’ll be waking up with the sun.”
After putting my clothes away, I head back to the living room.
“So, this is it. For the next two weeks,” I say, doing a three-sixty turn and taking in all the details.
At least there’s plenty to keep me busy. Maybe I should check out the storage shed outside and make sure it wasn’t broken into while I was away. That’s where I store my tools and everything I need to work on the cabin.
I grab my coat, boots, and gloves and head out. The one feature I love about my cabin that none of the other places around seem to have is a wrap-around porch. I guess at some point, the owners expanded the size of their properties and only kept the back decks facing the lake.
It may sound old-fashioned, but there’s something really charming about being able to walk all the way around the cabin. You can set a chair or a bench anywhere you want.
You can follow the sun in the winter or the shade in the summer.
Maybe if I come over a few more times this spring, I can have the cabin fully finished by the summer. The thought gives me a new sense of purpose.
I’m glad to see the lock for the shed is still intact. I open it and grab my toolbox before closing it back up.
When I’m rounding back to the front door, I see the neighbor half-inside the trunk of his car, looking like he’s struggling to get something out.
I set the toolbox by my front door and walk over to help. He doesn’t look like a big person. Maybe it’s the owner’s kid.
“Hey, do you need help over there?” I ask.
The snow slows my steps but not by much, so I’m only a few feet from the guy when he pulls his head out of the trunk.
Pink cheeks and a bright-red nose from the cold, but those same forest-green eyes.
Who did I upset in a previous life?
“Coach!” Bubble says, with the biggest smile, as if he’s just bumped into his best friend. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here…I mean…um, I own the cabin next door.” Fuck. Why can’t I string a whole sentence in the presence of this guy?
“Oh wow, that’s…what a coincidence,” he says, his smile widening. If that’s even possible.
I’m pretty sure if Bubble was connected to a power source, he’d be lighting up the Christmas tree in the Windsor town square.
“I mean, I don’t own that cabin. Have you seen the size of that? But I’m staying there. I know the most generous and stupendous couple, and they let me stay over Christmas.”
The cabin is definitely an upgrade from mine. Up close, I can see it’s been recently renovated. Even the wooden staircase leading to the front door seems new.
