“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Okay.” Blowing on her mug, she took a couple more sips as Erik looked outward toward the forest.
“How are you?” Erik asked.
“Oh, um, fine.”
“That’s good.”
“Mm-hm,” Cierra replied. “Nadine couldn’t make it?”
Erik’s mouth twitched. “We, um, ended things this week.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She was great, but . . . our dynamic . . . wasn’t fitting. I think I’m gonna take a break from dating apps for a while.” While he tried to laugh it off, his contemplative eyes betrayed him.
“If you know, you know. You did the right thing by not wasting her time,” Cierra said, thinking about her personal limbo-state with Julian.
“You think so?”
“Definitely,” she said, and gave him a squeeze on the shoulder before heading back inside. “I gotta get breakfast going. Wanna come in?”
“No, go ahead. I’m gonna stay out here for a while longer.”
“All right — there’s more coffee inside by the way, if you want some.”
He glanced toward her, eyes unreadable. “Thanks, Cierra.”
“No problem.”
Cierra leisurely prepared breakfast in solitude for about half an hour before the rest of the crew slowly began waking up, making their way down to the kitchen with big yawns. Today’s brunch was simple: a garden quiche with berries and freshly baked bread.
At breakfast, people chatted about their plans for the day: exploring nearby trail paths, taking a dip in the sparkling pool, digital detoxing. Randy made sure to sit next to Mia and asked both Cierra and her friend about their hobbies and what theywere like in college, although it was clear who truly had his attention. Erik was at the same end of the table but kept to himself most of the meal, interjecting occasionally.
After everyone had their fill, most of the group went on a nearby hike, while Zelda, Amy, and Cierra stayed behind. Zelda had work, and Cierra needed to wash up. While the country mansion held vintage charm, there was no dishwasher and no cleaning gloves to be found. Visions of pruned skin flashed before Cierra’s eyes. It would be an inevitable outcome of cooking and washing up for seven people for the next few days.
The lines between Zelda’s eyebrows remained etched as she oscillated between furious typing and attentive reading; a pen stuck out of her violet bun, and occasional grunts escaped her throat. Amy sat on a nearby couch, engrossed in a thriller novel.
Cierra had learned in her relatively short time of employment not to engage with Zelda unless Zelda herself started the conversation. Her boss was generous and sociable, but that was not to be mistaken for thinking she had idle time to chat.
“It’s nice seeing Mia again. That girl has great energy,” Zelda commented somewhat randomly, as she rose to get herself a glass of water. “I don’t think I’ve seen her since the dinner we met, come to think of it.”
“There is never a dull moment with her around, that’s for sure,” Cierra said.
“What does she do for work? Is she a model or something like that?”
“She’s actually the reason my Instagram page is what it is. Mia’s the one who pieces all the videos together, sets the aesthetic, everything. Her official title is social media director.”
“Is that so?” Zelda replied, contemplatively. “She has a fantastic eye for that. Hm . . .” she trailed off.
“You should get her to help run Sincha’s social media. It could use the help,” Amy piped up. “Respectfully.”
Zelda rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore her friend’s negging. “Did I overhear you and Erik talking this morning on the porch? I wasn’t spying, promise,” she said. “I heard murmurs when I woke up, my room is right above it.”
“Yeah, I was enjoying the sunrise before breakfast when he came out.”
“Oh! And he mentioned this week that a producer of some show had reached out to you? That’s so exciting, congratulations. I’m surprised you’ve managed to keep it to yourself. Or were you trying to keep it a secret from me? Afraid I might get a little jealous?” Zelda appeared to be teasing, although it was always difficult for Cierra to decipher. Maybe that was the point. Zelda seemed like the type to get a mild satisfaction out of the squirming of others.
