Page 13 of Sing Sweet Nightingale

“There’s only one bedroom and one bathroom, which I’m sure Luna told you,” she calls from the opposite side of one of the few doors in the cabin.

When I step through the door, she’s lifting my largest suitcase onto the bed. This bedroom is smaller than my closet back in Los Angeles, but there is stillplentyof space. A small dresser and nightstand match the sturdy wood-framed bed, which is draped in a thick, colorful quilt. The large window opens up to the forestbeyond, a perfect view first thing in the morning that I look forward to experiencing.

I’m going to sleep like the dead in this room, I just know it.

I set my bag down on the dresser and spin to find Ginger at the door, already on her way out. She’s moving like a whirlwind from room to room.

“Here’s the bathroom. There are towels in the hall closet, extra toilet paper under the sink along with a few standard toiletries. The water takes a minute to heat up, so don’t jump into a shower right away, or you might freeze your tits off.”

She laughs, and I peek through the bathroom door to see her opening and shutting the cabinet under the sink, flashing neatly stacked rolls of toilet paper. Other than the clawfoot tub, the bathroom is nothing extravagant. I can’t wait to take a candle-lit bath in it with a nice large glass of wine.

Ginger scoots past me and back out into the living room, continuing her fast-paced tour. I wonder if she has somewhere to be, and that’s why she’s going so fast?

“There’s plenty of chopped wood for the fireplace out back in the covered awning. I’ll have one of my brothers chop more for you if you need more. Hunter is a volunteer fireman, so he knows his way around an ax.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

I barely enter the living room as she’s already crossing to the kitchen, talking about the dishwasher and stove.

“Okay, so that’s about it for the cabin. Pretty standard stuff. Are you ready to head into town to continue the tour? I thought I could give you the lay of the land and introduce you to some people in town. That way, you’ll feel comfortable and right at home here in Snowberry. Plus, it’ll help us get ahead of the town gossip.”

I freeze, and my face falls.Gossip?A celebrity’s worst nightmare. Rumors, lies, and stories could ruin a person’s life in a matter of seconds.

“Gossip?” I ask on a thick swallow.

“Don’t worry, it’s just small-town nonsense.Who’s the new girl? Why is she here? Where is she staying? Where did she come from? Is she single?You know, the normal nosey neighbor nonsense. Don’t worry, Luna told me you want to stay offline and low-key.”

She steps close and puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder, easing my tension. There’s just something about her that makes you instantly like her. Hopefully, I can call her friend one day.

“It’s all water cooler gossip. They’re just bored people with nothing better to do. If we get you out there and answer all the questions before they even ask them, they won’t have time to concoct crazy stories about you.”

With a wide smile and a squeeze of my shoulder, she turns us towards the front door, which remained open throughout our two-minute walkthrough. Before Ginger is able to run me out of the cabin, I hurry back to the bedroom, grab my Polaroid camera, and sling it over my shoulder. I might find a few cute things to photograph on my first stroll through town.

Ginger hands me a keychain with one key on it and a small wood carving of a feather dangling from the metal ring. It’s smooth under my fingers and looks hand-carved. None of the mass-produced machine-made crap from China.

“This is beautiful. Where did you get it?” I ask, still admiring the attention to detail in the lines and creases of the feather. I would swear I was holding a real feather if it weren't made of wood.

“My brother Hunter carved it. It’s kind of a hobby of his.”

“This Hunter guy sounds like a catch. Volunteer fireman, great at chopping wood and hand carving extremely detailed realistic feathers. What else can he do?”

Ginger snickers and gives me anif-you-only-knewlook.

“Well, he also schedules his entire life, including when he does his laundry down to the minute. He never stays up past nine on weekdays and hates pie.”

“Who hates pie?”

“Exactly. He’s not nearly as appealing as he seems. When you meet him, don’t let his baby blues fool you.”

I’ve been surrounded by people who have been on covers of magazines and named in lists of The Most Attractive People; I doubt one wood-whittling mountain man with blue eyes will sway me. But I don’t mention any of that to Ginger. Just nod along in agreement.

At her insistence, we ride into town in Ginger’s car, leaving my Nissan at the cabin. The cool breeze flutters my short hair around my face as she whips around corners like a Nascar driver, parking in a small lot in what appears to be the center of town.

There’s a small green space behind the lot with a gazebo at its center, like every small-town hallmark movie ever made. I snap a quick picture before Ginger can pull her disappearing act and lead me away.

“Okay, well, first things first. We’re going to go to the most important place in town. Dottie’s,” Ginger announces with her hands on her hips.

Gesturing with a jerk of her chin to the lot next to us, I look over to see a retro neon sign that readsDottie’s Drive-In Diner. A few cars are lined up in the parking spaces where servers on rollerskates perch window-mounted trays full of food on car doors. Food that I can smell from here.

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