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“They’re not wearing masks,” Tea said.

Nan nodded. “No one does around here.”

Tea’s eyes went wide as she looked at her grandmother. “Excuse me?”

Nan held up her arms. “Okay, hear me out.”

She bit her tongue, wanting desperately to snap back at her grandmother about how Mom was on the front lines every single day, and that her sacrifice was not worth “hearing someone out.” But she learned long ago that talking back was not the Midwest way.

“The Wild Pines owners made the decision not to let anyone rent cabins this year,” Nan started.

Tea nodded. That made sense. Why would any family risk traveling somewhere new for vacation and expose themselves?

“Because of this, we as a community made the decision that we are going to be a…oh, what did he call it…”

Her brow furrowed. “He?”

Nan snapped her fingers and pointed at her. “A social bubble, that’s it. We’re one large bubble.”

“Again, who’s he?”

“The rule is that we can all hang out outside but not in each other’s cabins, and we have to wear masks if we go into town,” Nan continued. “Anyone who feels sick has to get tested at the drive-thru clinic in Ashland, and then quarantine for two weeks if they’re positive.”

Tea couldn’t decide if Nan was oblivious to her question, or simply ignoring it. She decided to drop it. “And newcomers?”

“They’re not allowed.”

She froze. “So…me?”

“You were an exception.”

That didn’t fuel Tea with a single ounce of confidence, but before she could press her grandmother for more details, a firm knock sounded at the door.

“Come on in!” Nan called through the screen.

“Nope, please meet me outside.”

Tea’s stomach swooped at the sound of that voice.

“Oh, right, I always forget.” She stood up. “I’m so used to inviting people in.”

Tea didn’t move an inch as she listened to the pad of Nan’s bare feet carry her to the door at the back of the cabin. She sat in frozen silence, unable to make out the mumbling conversation that was happening down the hall.

She was back a moment later. “Honey bun, do you have proof of your negative COVID test?”

She looked up at her grandmother, her face feeling hot, and hoped Nan couldn’t tell. “Um…”

“You took a test, right? I told you to…”

“Yes, yes, sorry.” She walked over to her purse at the counter and grabbed the slip of paper, handing it to Nan.

Before she could slot back to her seat and quietly melt into the floor of the cabin, Nan snatched her hand and pulled her down the hall. She tried wriggling out of her grasp, but was pleasantly shocked at how firm her grip was. Shocked, and terrified.

“No, Nan, please—”

Her pleading was cut short as they reached the door.

He was much taller than she remembered.