“I am Best Aunt certain,” I answered, already heading to the bedroom, where Acorn was winding up for a full scream.
“You’re her only aunt,” Robin called after me, sinking back onto the couch. “But thank you!”
No thanks required.
It was the kind thing to do. The right thing to do.
For the twin sister I had no business being jealous of.
But it also turned out to be the most disastrous thing I could’ve done.
Because in my head, I had already RSVP’d. I had already committed to going to Holly’s Joining Ceremony.
And when I didn’t hear back from her, I just assumed she was busy. That she’d gotten my message and didn’t need a follow-up.
I was trying to be chill. A gracious friend. The kind of woman who didn’t have to double-confirm every little thing.
Huge mistake.
Because instead of dipping a toe outside my comfort zone with a short visit to Bear Mountain…
I got dragged headfirst into a
Beary,
Beary,
Beary
Hot…
summer
oops and arrivals
. . .
lark
Robin was right. I didn’t rent a car to get to Bear Mountain.
I took a bus—with a transfer at the Barrington’s Super Center at the base of the Kwalnal’ak Mountain Range, where the small town Holly moved to in February was located.
I still couldn’t wrap my head around her being in a polycule with a Barrington, the family that had founded both Barrington’s Super Store, Canada’s answer to Walmart, and Barrington Prep, the school I worked at. But my wonder turned to anxiety when Holly still hadn’t emailed me back by the time I stepped off the bus in front of the small town’s large—and only—hotel.
“ID and the name your reservation’s under,” the front desk clerk demanded when I finally reached the front of the long line at Bear Mountain Lodge.
The sandy-brown-haired woman, whose name tag readSarah Baerlow, didn’t say hello or make eye contact. But my fellow autie antenna didn’t ping, so I concluded that her curtness was due to her feeling overwhelmed by the flood of passengersthe Bear Mountain coach had just dropped off for the town’s Christmas in July festival.
Which made me feel even worse about what I had to admit.
“Technically, I don’t have a reservation.”
Her face hardened.
“Well, all of our rooms are booked for the festival,” she said, already glancing over my shoulder at the group of guys behind me.
“Wait,” I blurted before she could call the next person forward.
