There’s no connectivity on Landslide.No streaming services, search engine, texting, nothing!
My neighbor (he’ll be posting this letter for me on the mainland), Ben Magoo, says we have reception about a third of the time, but I have had zero proof of that since my arrival.
Aunt Tempest left a spiral spine notebook for me.I haven’t read it all the way through yet, but she said there’s a radio on board a boat somewhere.Maybe we can chat via a two-way radio?
I just don’t see this house selling in winter.And the bad news is that all postal deliveries stop when the lake freezes over.Once everything is wrapped up here, I’m not going to be able to return to my apartment anyway, because I’m a dog mom now.
Do you know any good realtors on your side?I’ll have to sell the apartment.I’m cool with that, though.It’s time I got rid of all that bad Giulio juju anyway.
Please contact Serena for me and tell her to publish a “currently not available for commissions” notice on my website.And if my dad calls the studio, can you explain the reason for my lack of communication to him?Thank you.
Love, Luna.
Lifting my head, I ask Ben, “Do you know what address my friend can write me here?”
“That would be your name, care of Angle Inlet Postal Service.”He waits for me to write that down before spelling the zip code for me slowly.
Folding the letter, I slip it into the envelope and lick the flap.
“Can I give you money to buy a stamp?”I scrawl directions to the studio address on the front.
Lumbering to the door, Ben shakes his head.“This one’s on me.How did that map work out for you?”
“Er… it was very helpful, thank you.”
He looks down at my freshly bandaged ankle.“You hurt yourself?”
I don’t bat an eyelid as I reply.“You could say that, yes.Are there any predator animals around here?Any traps I should be worried about?”
Ben shakes his head glumly.“Used to be a real problem around here forty-fifty or so years ago.My father was driven to distraction; he lost so many animals.There might still be a few traps left here and there, so stick to the road if you’re walking, and watch out for that dog in my fields.Damn dog’s a menace—likes to chase my sheep.”
I stop him before he can step down from the porch.
“Thanks for helping, Ben.What happened to the predators?”
“They probably moved on to greener pastures.Thank God.”
Tipping his cap again, Ben settles behind the truck steering wheel and carefully backs down the steep drive.
I wave, wait for him to disappear in the direction of the jetty, and then pull on my sheepskin boots.“Come, Mu,” I call for the naughty dog and close the door behind him.“So, you like chasing sheep, do you?”
Muohta gives me a bashful grin.
Hobbling to the hatchback quickly, I back the car down the incline and head off in the opposite direction—to the inn.
I just remembered what my aunt wrote to me in her notebook.
She didn’t die in the house, and that might mean she did not die on the island, either!
Jolting over the potholes, I am excited to see the red painted general store opposite the sweet Swiss chalet inn.
But that’s not where I’m headed.Parking as close to the log cabin as I can, I hop-walk to the clubhouse and pull the door open.
It’s completely empty inside.
ChapterEight
Dante
