Page 4 of Always in Watch Hill
Walking through the rental, I surveyed the butcher block counters, expensive-looking tile on the kitchen floor, a large living room, bedroom with a king-sized mattress, and vintage artwork that threw the whole thing back to mid-century modern chic.
Justin had done well.Exceptionallywell.
The place easily beat most of hotels I’d stayed in, and I appreciated all the little touches Justin had left in the space, including several kinds of coffee, a bowl of packaged snacks, a book about hiking trails near Watch Hill, and a toiletry kit on the bathroom counter next to the sink. Despite the lack of keys earlier, I could see why online reviewers called Justin a caring and competent host. He hadn’t missed anything when it came to creating a perfect space for his guests.
I unpacked and stretched out on the king-sized bed, letting myself wind down after the day of travel. How good it felt to have the next few days to myself. Of course, ever since the start of the COVID pandemic, being “by myself” had been a part of life but working from home at my condo in downtown Chicago didn’t count as “time for myself.” Those days were still filled with demands and deadlines.
This trip was free of that—except for one big one: the target loomed at the end of the week. Six days from now, I planned to email my editor in New York the updated, revised, and oh-so-close-to-official manuscript of my travel book,America Uncovered.It had taken two years of effort, was three hundred twenty pages of reflection and review of the fifty most underrated restaurants, museums, and hotels in the country, painstakingly created from my years of writing a lifestyle and travel column for the monthly magazineChicago Curate.
That work couldn’t wait.
I got off the bed, poured myself a glass of lime-flavored sparkling water from the kitchen refrigerator, and dug my laptop from its case. I might be exhausted from the airplane and car ride, but I needed to put that aside. The words and track changes loomed. While six days was a long time, it was a short one too. I didn’t want to waste a moment of it.
I pushed the start button on the laptop and sank onto the dark green velveteen couch next to the cottage front window.Time to get to work.
About forty-five minutes passed as I swam through a sea of red marks and comments from the various editors and beta readers who’d already digested my work. It all hung on minutiae and pinpointed changes that sometimes bordered on the tedious, but I appreciated the care my editors had given me. And each change was one step closer to the finish.And rest. Relaxation.
But after forty-five minutes, I was exhausted. Hungry. A little restless.
I glanced at the clock on the desktop—almost six. No wonder my stomach rumbled; it was already almost dinner time. I closed my laptop and thought for a moment about what I wanted to do. The rental came with a bike the listing said I’d find chained to a bike rack near the back of the cottage, and Justin’s guide to Watch Hill said it wasn’t a long ride between his property and downtown. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d ridden a bicycle anywhere—I mostly walked or took the subway during my daily life in Chicago. Taking a bike out would be fun and give me a chance to see the community.
Resolved, I packed my wallet, keys, and a few other things in the small convertible backpack I often brought on vacations, swept my hair into a ponytail, and left the cottage. Just as promised, I located a black bike on metal rack located near the back door, along with a red bike helmet. Almost perfect. With a satisfied sigh, I mounted the bike and headed off in the direction of the town square.
It didn’t take long to see the up-close appeal of Watch Hill.
Quaint would have been an easy descriptor with the town focused on a central square buoyed with flower boxes that gleamed in the late-day summer sun. From there a small business district featured boutiques, a Pilates studio, a small hotel, Already Perked coffee shop, Watch Hill Pizza, and Sam’s Deli, a bar and grill with a large outdoor patio and a sign advertising an all-you-can-drink pint special. I parked the bike at the rack closest to Sam’s and walked in a few seconds later.
“You’re just in time for the end of happy hour,” the bartender said when I took a seat across from him. A few other customers fanned out from the bar, with most of the patrons focused on a replay of one of the opening rounds of the French Open. The man laid a small, laminated menu on the counter in front of me. “We have a great selection of five-dollar cocktails and light bites, if you are interested.”
“Thanks, I’ll have a vodka and club soda with a lime, please.”
“Nothing more... exotic?”
I shook my head.
“Coming right up, then.”
It didn’t take long for him to make my drink, and when he returned, he introduced himself as Grayson, telling me he also worked as an assistant manager. He recommended a few sandwiches and appetizers on the menu, then sized me up. “You don’t live here in Watch Hill, do you?”
“Is that so obvious?”
“Most people around here know each other.” He smiled. “Especially the people who show up here. We get the occasional patrons from other parts of the Cincinnati metro, but most of our customers live right here in town. And I’ve never seen you here before.”
“Well, you’re right. I’m in town for a couple of days.”
“Visiting family?”
I sipped my drink. “You’re awful friendly, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I suppose I am.” He braced one hand on the lip of the bar. “People have told me that before. Makes me good at what I do.”
“I bet.” I regarded Grayson for a moment. If there was one thing I knew well from my travels, it was that bartenders often had the best tidbits of information. They often prided themselves on knowing everything. Perhaps cocky came with the job too.He looks non-threatening. More of the friendly type...“Now that I think about it, if you have some recommendations, I could use them. I’m only here for a week. Staying in a rental on the edge of town.”
“Justin Walsh’s place?” He cocked his head. “The one he lists online?”
“Wow, you’re good.”
“Like I said, people around here tend to know a lot of things about each other. And I’m kind of surprised to hear that he’s renting it again. I thought he got out of that business.”
