Page 7 of Always in Watch Hill
FIVE
LYNNE
“Ithought you weren’tgoing to talk to anyone for a week or do anything but work on your book,” my best friend Emily said on the phone the following afternoon. “You were so serious about it before you left. No text, no FaceTime, no phone calls, no social media...”
“I know. I know.”
“So, what gives? Tell me quickly. I wish I could talk longer, but I have like five minutes before I have to go into this shoot.”
Emily worked as a photographer and did a lot of high-end editorial and fashion photography around Chicago. She made a killing do it too, and I admired how she’d kept the business going even during the pandemic. My friend figured out a new style that kept her distant from her subjects and yet allowed her to still maintain the signature intimacy that made her work stand out from the others in the field. I admired her a lot.
“So... it’s interesting here,” I tried. “I mean Watch Hill is adorable. Quiet, like I wanted. But...”
“What?” Her voice shifted and I guessed she was smiling. “Something keeping you from doing your edits?”
“No, not at all. Not that, thank God. I went through forty pages today.” That felt good, and it was more than I’d finished at my apartment in Chicago or at my favorite coffee shop down around the corner. Just as I suspected, changing scenery helped get my creativity going. “So, I should be on track to get my edits completed this week. In fact, I had to stop today because my brain was starting to feel fried.”
“I hate that feeling. Always seems to happen to me whenever a client wants a quick turnaround but we ended up taking hundreds of photos. I get bogged down in all the miniscule changes.”
“Exactly. For me, when I start questioning every period and comma on the page, that’s when I know I’ve got to stop.”
“But that’s not what you are calling about.”
“Nope.” I moved around and stretched out on the couch, kicking my feet up on the opposite end and laying my head on the nearest throw pillow. “I’m just... did I send you the listing when I booked it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, I thought it was a normal place, a cottage on the edge of a farm, and that’s what it is, but... there’s something about the guy who owns this place.”
“Something like a good thing, or a bad thing?”
“I don’t know.” I stared at the ceiling, taking in the intricate fan design painted on the drywall, something else that sets the unit apart from most of the other places where I had stayed.This guy thought of everything. Look at all the care he put into this rental...“A good thing. He’s—he’s different.”
“You’re also a little deprived, right? Maybe desperate? I mean, that pandemic dating—”
“Never again, Emily.Neveragain. If I go on one more FaceTime or Zoom date, I’m going to absolutely lose it. The last guy I tried that with ended up admitting he still lives in the basement of his parents’ place.”
“Plenty of people still do that.”
“But he was forty.Forty.And he didn’t have a great reason for it either; he wasn’t taking care of someone or letting them crash with him. He was just mooching.” I shook my head. “Anyway, I’m never going to see that person again.”
“Back to the owner of this cottage where you’re staying.”
“Justin.”
“Justin. Got it. So, he’s interesting, right?”
“Right. A little isolated maybe. I was talking to the bartender at the restaurant last night and he said Justin hasn’t been out much since the pandemic. Spent a lot of time alone, withdrew, that kind of thing. He used to be a regular at that bar but hasn’t been in for a while.”
“Sounds like a lot of people. I just now felt comfortable going back to the gym. And oh my God, it shows.”
