“Sure did. This trip was made possible by their generosity. I guess they really wanted us to take some time for ourselves.” Viv stands, slapping the armrests. “Lucky us! Now we can indulge in all the delicious food and drinks we want. Did you know the Finger Lakes are known for their wineries and delicious dining experiences?” Viv air-quotes the last line.
She smiles. “This is gonna besogood for us. You’ll see! Love you, mean it!” She shakes her hips as she dances out of my office, leaving me flustered. I don’t do things at the last minute like this. I like to have a plan, an itinerary, or reservations at the very least.
I end up taking some time to peruse the bed-and-breakfast website and the town surrounding it. I admit, begrudgingly, it’s a cute little town. With a few reservations booked and a betterhandle on what we’re walking into for the next ten days, my anxiety is mildly at bay, and I allow the excitement of a getaway to creep in.
Pop offered to let us take his car instead of renting one. Between Viv’s parents and Raphael, the kid who cuts the grass and who I now know also comes by to play chess once a week, Pop feels comfortable that he can get places if he needs to.
Friday morning, Viv and I shove our bags into the trunk of Pop’s dark green Subaru Forester. With a honk goodbye, we’re off on our first vacation in years with Sunny howling from the backseat cat carrier.
“You know, I looked it up the other day. This drive isn’t four hours. It’s seven.” I cut my eyes at my lifelong bestie beside me.
“Eh. Tomato,tomato.Doesn’t change the fact that we are on our way!” She turns up the music.
Between Sunny's cries from the back and Viv’s gross underestimation of the distance, it’s clear we’re in for a long drive. We trade off halfway through, spending the second half of the drive brainstorming things to do for the next ten days.
Somewhere along the way, Sunny settled in, and before we know it, we’re pulling off the highway and traveling through scenic rural towns.
We finally pass a large, cream and green-painted sign that says “Welcome to Maple Cove” and carry on down a winding road until we reach a charming downtown area filled with a smattering of restaurants, shops, and a small cafe. Leafy trees and tall black lanterns line the sidewalks, while potted plants add a burst of color. This little town is like something out of a Hallmark movie.
“Um, I love this,” Viv says, eyes roaming the scenery. Houses with white picket fences and beautifully trimmed bushes stretch down streets. A large gazebo sits in the middle of a small green,with sandwich boards noting various events occurring on the green: farmer’s markets, Fourth of July festivities, a local band.
We turn down a street, passing houses that sit close to the sidewalk, a bookstore, and a few tourist-type shops, until we come to a dead end with a wide driveway in the middle.
Before us is a beautiful farmhouse-style home surrounded by trees, and just past it, a wide expanse of sparkling water.The Huffman Houseposted on a large navy blue sign beside the extra-wide wooden front door tells me we’ve reached our destination. Rocking chairs with navy and white striped pillows sit in a row with small tables between them, and an American flag flaps gently in the breeze.
As we pull deeper into the driveway, I notice a tire-worn dirt road that extends out into the woods to the right, surrounded by trees. Parking in the small paved lot, we haul Sunny and our bags to the front door and push it open into a tight foyer with a check-in desk, where we’re met by a woman who looks to be in her mid-twenties.
“Hi there. Welcome to the Huffman House,” she says, her smile wide and genuine. Behind her are a rack of keys, a stack of brochures, and what appears to be an antique map of the lake.
“Hi! Checking in. Vivian Scott and Olivia Weston.” Viv flashes her own bright smile. Sunny meows again, and the woman behind the counter leans over to see what creature is making such a pitiful sound.
“Oh my gosh, so cute!” she says, and Sunny meows in return. This girl looks vaguely familiar to me, though I can’t place why. She’s pretty, with sandy brown hair and freckles splattered across her face, highlighting her sun-kissed skin. Her eyes catch me off guard with their grayish-green color I’ve only ever seen maybe once or twice before. I steal a peek at her name tag. Holly Huffman.
Holly clicks away at her computer screen and then pulls two keys from the hooks behind her. “Okay, Ms. Scott, you’re in roomthree. Ms. Weston, you’re in room four, right across the hall. If you go around the desk here through the great room, you’ll find a hallway to your right, and your room will be down that way at the end.” She hands us our keys and a brochure of the town, then runs through her welcome speech, listing everything we need to know from food to bike rentals to sunset cruises—which isn’t really at sunset this time of year, more of a happy hour cruise because the sun sets so late. But still pretty, anyway, she explains—before she sends us on our way.
“This is so…” Viv’s head swivels back and forth, taking in everything before us.
“Charming.” I smile, looking at the old-fashioned metal key in my hand.
The interior of the house is bright and warm. Just to the right of the front desk is a staircase. Two comfy chairs and a small side table sit nestled next to the staircase, basking in the sun filtering in through the large front windows. Right around the wall is a large great room with vaulted ceilings that have gorgeous exposed beams and recessed lighting.
On one side, tables fill a good portion of the space, and against the wall is a kitchen counter with everything a kitchen might need—toaster, microwave, even a small refrigerator.
The other side of the great room hosts an enormous stone fireplace, accompanied by a small couch and several oversized armchairs. Built-in shelves next to the fireplace have board games and packs of cards, while a small library of books and DVDs occupies the shelves on the other side. Above the mantel are a flat-screen television and some small, leafy plants.
Sunlight, from the floor to ceiling windows fills the room, and French doors open to a back patio that overlooks the lake. Between that and the wide wood floors, the house gives a modern yet very rustic vibe.
Sunny lets out another pitiful howl, and the few guests mingling around look in our direction.
“I'd better let this cat out before he loses his mind,” I say, turning toward the hallway where our rooms are.
“Alright, girl. Power nap, shower, meet ya out here at 6:30, and we’ll have a glass of wine or three before we head to dinner?” Viv asks, reaching for her door on the right.
“Perfect.” Turning the key into the lock, I reach for the doorknob, noticing the double-H logo.Where have I seen that before?
Sunny moans. “Okay, okay. Let’s get you out of there.”
Seven
