The echo of my despondent wail is still ringing in my ears as I sit up in bed.
I’m alone, with only Tempest’s white fluffy dog staring at me as the last wisps of my orgasm fade away.
I wake up bright and early, because I forgot to draw the drapes closed last night.The light streaming in the window chases all my bad dreams away.I slept like a log, bar the occasional nightmare...I think.If I had any dreams, they are dull and faded shadows now.
The floofy white dog is lying on the bed with me.I guess he’s taken a shine to me because I fed him a whole can of dog food last night.
Stretching, I move to the bathroom.When I see my face in the mirror, I reckon I look kind of pale.I started reading my aunt’s notebook last night, but I got sleepy after scanning the first page and so went to bed.
After clattering downstairs to the kitchen, I walk around looking out of the windows as I wait for the water to start bubbling.
With the kettle almost boiling on the gas stovetop, I pick up the notebook my aunt left for me.
Pouring boiling water over two teaspoons of coffee granules, I add milk and sugar before going to sit at the table overlooking the road.
I pick up where I left off.The first page of the notebook told me how to switch on the generator and turn the dial on the HVAC thermostat.Twisting the gas valve from “Close” to “Open” is easy.
On page two of the notebook, it starts to get more personal.It’s almost as if Aunt Tempest is talking to me.
Please be assured that I didn’t die in the house, dear Luna.I wouldn’t want you to get creeped out by that.
My only sorrow at leaving this world would be that I can’t take Muohta with me.He is a Samoyed hound from Siberia.His name means “Snow” in the Lule-Sámi dialect.He loves herding, hunting, and pulling small sleds in winter, so feel free to hook him up with those kinds of jobs.
He might get anxious if you leave him at the house and go off by yourself, so it’s probably best that you take him everywhere with you.
Slamming the notebook down on the table, I go refill Muohta’s bowl with the salmon and rice kibble I found in the cupboard.I’ve just inherited a dog!I hope there’s a vet on the island.
Grabbing a tin of cookies off the shelf, I nibble on them as I continue reading.
Okay, here are a few tips.
Stay off Ben Magoo’s land if you don’t want him getting pissed.He’ll probably give you a pass the first time you do it, but try not to make a habit of it.His property is on the left as you walk to the inn.
Inn?No one told me anything about an inn.Dog-earing the page, I read some more.
The attic floor beams are wonky, so please don’t install heavy items up there.I know you like to craft things, but the ceiling boards are going to crack if you put anything bigger than a small box up there.The power points are hooked up to the generator.Ben will bring you full tanks of gasoline every fall so you have enough to get you through winter.You can order your supplies from the general store up the road.It’s the small building painted red opposite the inn.
Was Tempest honestly expecting me to stay here through winter?Fat chance!But the notebook’s not finished yet.
There is no cell phone coverage—don’t listen to those optimists who tell you there is.Nor is there any wi-fi.The best way to call for help during an emergency is to use the radio on board the boat.Monty Hubble brings the mail every now and again until he can’t get the ferry through the ice anymore.You can use Vince Pruitt in a pinch.
The tide gets low enough once every few months for the land bridge to be used.You must please post the tide times on the bulletin board at the inn as a courtesy for the summer visitors.
This last part is written in bold letters.
IF YOU RUN INTO ANY TROUBLE, THERE’S A CUBBY IN THE DISTILLERY.HIDE THERE UNTIL IT ALL BLOWS OVER.AS YOU HAVE PROBABLY GUESSED BY NOW, LANDSLIDE SECURITY IS AS CRAZY AS THE CRIMINALS!
Snapping the notebook closed, I cram the last cookie into my mouth.I’m fuming.
Why wasn’t I informed about this distillery!When Mr.Bryant told me about my aunt’s “property,” it would have been nice if he had bothered going into a little bit more detail.
It makes sense that I spend the rest of the morning offloading my suitcase and boxes out of the car after parking it as close as I could to the front porch.
It’s a hassle.And it doesn’t help that I hate unpacking as much as I do packing.It puts me in a hell of a bad mood.I’m starting to think that this might not even be worth it.
Focus, Luna.Get an appraisal of everything and then sell to the first person who puts in a bid.You’ll be back to your cozy Twin Cities life before you know it.
The only thing that I can think of that might get in the way of me getting back to the city is myself.I am obsessed with being seen in a positive light.And that’s not just me being paranoid.As Luna Blackwood the artist, I cannot risk someone publishing something negative about me or my brand.
