Cabin Girl Read online

  Chapter Three

  Somehow I make it through my first two weeks at the lodge without getting fired. It could be because Gabe is never around when I mess up, which is amazing, since I mess up a lot. The harder I try to do things right, the more goes wrong. Thank goodness for April. If it wasn’t for our nighttime chats, I’d probably crawl under a rock and never come out. But she understands what I’m going through.

  We are getting ready for bed after a long day when I admit how much I hate being the butt of everyone’s jokes. I feel sick about my mistakes, but everybody else in camp acts like they’re a big joke. You’d think I’d been hired as comic relief instead of a cabin girl.

  “It’s like that for everyone at the beginning,” she says. “Don’t worry about it.”

  I sigh. “You don’t understand. This was supposed to be my chance to show everyone that I’m not a little kid anymore.”

  “Show who?”

  I shrug. “My parents mostly. I’m sixteen years old, but they treat me like I’m ten. I have to get their approval for every little thing I do. For instance, all my friends are getting their drivers’ licenses, but not me. Even though the law says I’m old enough, my parents think I’m too young. If I do okay here, I’m hoping they’ll let me make my own decisions.” I roll my eyes. “The only reason they let me take this job is because Gabe owns the camp, and even then I had to beg to be allowed to do it. They’re counting on Gabe to keep an eye on me. Like he has the time. He’s so busy he barely knows I’m here.”

  April laughs. “That’s good, right?”

  I smile sheepishly. “I guess.” Then I add quietly, “I wish I was like you.”

  “What d’ya mean?”

  “You know—independent, the boss of myself. I want to run my own life—like you do. No one tells you what to do. You can do anything you want.”

  “I don’t know about that, but I do like trying new things. Like, when the season is over here at the lodge, I’m going to—”

  Suddenly April stops talking.

  “What?” I say. “What are you going to do?”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not for sure yet.”

  “Come on, April. Tell me. I won’t say anything.” When she doesn’t answer, I add, “Hey, I shared my secret with you.”

  For another minute or so, April looks at me like she’s trying to decide. Finally, she says, “Okay, but you can’t tell anybody. Promise?”

  I nod and cross my heart. “Absolutely.”

  “Okay,” she says again and leans in closer. “I’m going to open a flower shop. Come the fall, I should have enough money saved.”

  “April, that’s great! You see? I was right. You can do anything.”

  It’s been three whole days without a screwup, so I think I’m over whatever my problem was. Now that I know what I’m doing, I’m more relaxed. I’m not tired all the time either, and I don’t ache everywhere. Lately I’ve even been waking up before the alarm, though that might only be self-defense.

  Best of all, I’m starting to fit in with camp life. Everyone is really friendly. Well, everyone except Winnie. But I think Ed’s right about her. She’s just naturally grumpy.

  Today was a great day. I got a tip from some guests, so after supper I decide to buy myself a treat at the camp store. The Witch’s Lair, as it’s called, is open in the morning before the guests go fishing and then again for a couple of hours in the evening. There’s not a lot in it—mostly fishing gear, chocolate bars, sunglasses, mosquito repellent, that sort of thing. Drake usually runs the store, but this evening Ed is behind the counter.

  “Well, look who the wind blew in,” he says with a wink. “What can I get for you, Bailey?”

  “Ice cream. I’ve been dreaming about it all day.”

  He gestures to the freezer. “Help yourself.”

  I lift the lid and start digging around inside. When somebody jabs me in the ribs, I look up. It’s April. She’s come for cigarettes. Like most everyone in camp, she smokes.

  “Ice cream’s better,” I holler as she leaves.

  She turns and gives me the finger, but she’s smiling, so I grin back.

  “You two getting along all right?” Ed asks when she’s gone.

  I nod. “For sure. April’s great—kinda like my Witch Lake Lodge big sister. Well, maybe not big—she’s pretty little, but you know what I mean.”

  “I never had a sister.”

  “Me neither. But if I did, I’d want her to be like April.”

  “Why’s that?”

  I shrug. “She’s smart. She’s good at her job, and she’s tough. Did you know she’s been on her own since she was fourteen?”

  “Nope. Can’t say that I did.”

  “Well, she has. And as you can see, she’s doing fine.” I want to tell Ed how April’s going to open a flower shop, but I promised April I’d keep that information to myself, so I don’t say anything.

  Ed pulls back and squints at me. “Are you the president of her fan club or what?”

  I frown. “Now you’re making fun of me.”

  He shakes his head. “Sorry. I don’t mean to. You’re actually a breath of fresh air around here. So I’d hate—”

  April pokes her head back in the open doorway. “Come on, Bailey.” She gestures for me to hurry. “The guys have set up the volleyball net. We’re going to have a game.” Then her head disappears again.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” Ed says. “Get out there.”

  After the game, one of the guides walks April and me back to our cabin. His name is Sloan, and he’s totally hot. His abs ripple right through his T-shirt. But he’s a lot older than I am. If Gabe even suspected I liked him, I’d be on the next plane home. Besides, Sloan has a thing for April. I can tell. I think she likes him too.

  I glance up at the moon. It’s lopsided, like somebody shaved away part of one side. In a few more days, it will be full. The thought makes my heart skip a few beats.

  “Do you guys know anything about the Witch Lake legend?” I ask.

  “Sure,” Sloan says. “Everybody knows the legend. Why?”

  I heave a sigh. “No reason. It’s just such a sad story, and it’s kind of spooky. Ed says the witch comes back to look for her necklace when the moon is full.” I point to the sky. “That’s pretty soon.”

  April laughs. “Don’t tell me you buy all that mumbo jumbo. It’s just a story. We tell it to the guests to make the lake seem mysterious.” She laughs again.

  “But it has to be true,” I argue.

  “Why?”

  “Because Ed said some of the guests have seen her.”

  “No doubt.” Sloan chuckles. “After a few drinks, people see all kinds of things.”

  He and April laugh again and go back to flirting. When we get to the cabin, I leave them on the steps and get ready for bed. I’m under the covers and flipping through a magazine when April comes in. I expect her to start gushing about Sloan, but all she does is grab a hand mirror and tweezers off her bureau, plunk herself on her bed and start working on her eyebrows. When she’s done, she puts the mirror and tweezers down and heads into the bathroom.

  There’s clearly not going to be any girl talk tonight, so I toss the magazine onto the night table, switch out the light and burrow beneath my covers. Right away I start to drift off. There’s nothing like fresh air and exercise to conk a person out. I don’t even hear April come back into the room.

  Crash!

  I bolt upright. “What was that?”

  “Sorry,” April says. She’s on her knees, picking up glass shards. “I broke the mirror. I forgot I left it on the bed, and when I pulled back the covers, it fell on the floor.” She pads across the room to get the broom and dustpan.

  “That’s seven years bad luck,” I murmur.

  She stops sweeping and blinks at me in disbelief. Finally she shakes her head. “You have to be the most superstitious person I have ever met. On Friday the thirteenth, you stay
in bed all day, don’t you? The only bad thing about breaking that mirror, Bailey, is that now I have no mirror.”

  I know April thinks I’m being silly, but I don’t back down. “You can call me superstitious if you want,” I say. “I call it being careful. Things happen all the time that people can’t explain. I’m not saying there are such things as spirits, but you can’t prove there aren’t.”

  April closes her eyes and shakes her head. “God, Bailey, get a grip.”

  “Just do one thing,” I say. “Turn around three times, counterclockwise.”

  “Why? To make the spirits dizzy? Don’t be dumb.”

  “It’ll take you two seconds. It might not undo your seven years of bad luck, but it can’t hurt.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  I don’t say anything.

  She closes her eyes again, but she does spin around. “There. Are you happy now?”

  I bob my head. “Yup.”

  Chapter Four

  It’s a major changeover day at the lodge. Half the guests are moving out and a new bunch are moving in. That means a busy morning for me.

  I finish cleaning the cabins and changing the beds as the first plane arrives. It’s only eleven o’clock, but the day is already hot, and my T-shirt is sticking to me. As I pile the last of the soiled linen into my little red wagon, I glance toward the dock. There are bodies, boxes and bags everywhere. It looks like mass confusion, but it’s not. In a few minutes the new guests will be on their way to the lodge, the departing guests will be winging their way home, and the dock will be empty—until the next plane comes in. I grab the handle of my wagon and head for the washhouse. After leaving the dirty laundry with Winnie, I make my way to the storage shed to park my wagon.

  My stomach growls. Time for lunch. I’ve barely started up the path to the staff dining room when I hear my name. I look around to see Gabe standing in front of the lodge, waving me over. One of the new guests is with him.

  The man and Gabe are probably around the same age, but Gabe’s body is hard and lean while the other guy looks like he’s spent his life behind a desk. He’s on the short side, balding and thick through the middle. The parts of him that aren’t fleshed out are giving way to gravity. But he has a friendly face, and when Gabe introduces us, the man smiles like he means it.

  “Bailey,” Gabe says, “this is Dennis Savoy. He’ll be with us for the next three days. Cabin two. Dennis, this is Bailey. She’s our cabin girl. She’ll be knocking on your door with morning coffee and tidying up while you’re fishing.”

  The man sticks out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Bailey.”

  I don’t usually get introduced to guests, so I’m a bit puzzled. I return the guy’s handshake. “Welcome to Witch Lake, Mr. Savoy.”

  “Bailey, I wonder if you could show Mr. Savoy to his cabin to get his tackle box and then take him to the store to pick up some fishing gear. Ed will meet you there.”

  I nod and smile. “Sure. No problem.”

  Gabe glances at his watch. “See you back here for lunch at noon, Dennis.”

  As if on cue, an engine sounds overhead, a plane clears the trees, and Gabe takes off for the dock.

  “Busy place,” Dennis Savoy says as we start up the path leading to the guest cabins.

  I nod. “On changeover days for sure. Otherwise, it’s pretty peaceful.”

  “And beautiful,” he adds, lowering the case he’s carrying and kneeling to open it.

  Inside is an impressive-looking camera, complete with a big zoom lens. He slips the strap around his neck, pops off the lens cap and starts shooting. He swings around one way and then the other like he’s on a swivel.

  “Are you a photographer?” I ask when he finally lowers the camera.

  “Nah,” he smiles. “Just a wannabe.” He puts the lens cap back on, and we continue walking.

  “Is this your first time to Witch Lake?” I ask.

  “Actually, it’s my first time to any fly-in fishing lodge.”

  “Really? Well, you made the right choice. You’re going to love it here.”

  “Good to know. Truth is, I didn’t choose this place. The fishing trip was arranged for me.”

  “Sweet.” I grin. I noticed a wedding ring on his finger when we shook hands, so I say, “A gift from your wife?”

  He shakes his head. “No. The people I work with set it up.”

  As the guest cabins come into view, he stops and snaps a few more photos. Then he says, “I’m not really much of a fisherman. Oh, I’ve done some fishing, but nothing like most of the people who come here.”

  “I kinda figured that,” I say.

  “Oh?” He looks surprised. “What gave me away?”

  I try not to smile. “Well, you’re looking to get some gear from the store, for one thing. Most guests come here with enough gear for five people. Also, you’re not really dressed for fishing—dress pants, dress shoes, dress shirt…” I shrug and leave the sentence hanging.

  He grins. “Hey, I ditched the tie.”

  We both laugh.

  “So did you come straight from work to the plane?”

  He pauses. “Sort of.”

  “What do you do?” And then, because I realize it’s none of my business, I backtrack. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be so nosy.”

  He waves my apology away. “It’s a natural question. Everybody works.”

  We’ve reached his cabin, so we put our conversation on pause and I sit down on the step while he goes inside. When he returns, he has his tackle box and he’s changed his clothes. He’s wearing cargo pants, a short-sleeved shirt and deck shoes. It’s not quite jeans and runners, but it’s definitely an improvement.

  As he locks the door, I say, “Do you have a hat and sunglasses? Sunscreen? It can get pretty intense on the water.”

  He shakes his head.

  “Never mind. You can get those at the store too.”

  We begin walking and he chuckles. “Are you sure you’re not somebody’s mother?”

  I snort and shake my head.

  “So this is a summer job?” he says.

  “Yeah. The lodge is open from mid-May to mid-September, depending on the weather, but I’m only here for July and August. I have school the rest of the time.”

  He nods. “Are most of the staff high-school kids?”

  I shake my head. “No. I’m the only one. Everyone else is older. Some just come for a summer or two to earn money for university. But Cook, Winnie and Ed have been working here for years. For some staff, it fills a gap until they find something more permanent.” I grin. “Like April—she’s one of the waitresses. When fishing season’s over, she’s going to open a flower shop.” I kind of gasp as I realize I’ve blabbed April’s secret. Not that telling a guest is going to matter.

  Dennis Savoy nods. “So how many people work here?”

  I shrug. “I’ve never counted, but a full camp is forty-four guests, so that’s twenty-two guides right there. Actually, twenty-three. Gabe likes to keep an extra on hand. Then there’s Cook and the kitchen girl, the laundry lady, April and Meira, Tricia, the camp boy, Gabe, Ed and me. I’m the cabin girl.”

  “That must be tough, cleaning the cabins all by yourself. If you’re the only one, how do you get a day off?”

  “I don’t,” I tell him. “Nobody does. Working at the lodge is a twenty-four/seven job. But it’s not like we’re hard at it all day. After I deliver coffee and clean the cabins, I’m pretty much done. I might dust and vacuum the lodge, and sometimes I help the laundry lady fold bedding, but that’s about it. The girls in the kitchen have it harder than me. Cook works all day long.”

  “And the waitresses?”

  “Mostly they serve the meals—breakfast and supper. Lunch too if there are new guests, like today. Basically, they’re responsible for the dining room. Setting tables, filling salt and pepper shakers, making sure the bar is stocked and serving food. If it’s really busy, they help Cook in the kitchen.”

  I see Ed standi
ng in the doorway to the store, so I wave. He waves back.

  I turn to Dennis Savoy. “Well, Mr. Savoy, this is it. Ed will help you from here. Enjoy your stay.”

  As I jog toward the staff dining room, I think about Dennis Savoy and the conversation we just had. He seems like a nice guy, and he’s certainly easy to talk to. We covered a lot ground of during our little walk. And he took a pile of pictures. The thing that puzzles me, though, is why someone who isn’t really interested in fishing would come to a fishing lodge.

  Chapter Five

  “After you finish serving breakfast, do you want to help me clean cabins?” I ask April as we make our way up to the lodge the next morning. “With two of us, we’d be finished in no time. Then we’d have the entire afternoon to chill. We could paint our nails, flip through fashion magazines and pig out on chocolate. My mom sent me a care package.” I waggle my eyebrows.

  The frown on April’s face tells me she is not impressed. “You want me to clean cabins? Forget it. Been there, done that. I’ll stick to waitressing, thanks. The tips are better.” Then her face clears. “But I will help you eat that chocolate.”

  Since there are guests in every cabin and only me to clean them, my morning’s work stretches into early afternoon. I start with cabin eleven and work my way backward. It’s an easy way to keep track of how many I have left to do. Dennis Savoy’s cabin is next to last, so by the time I get to it, I’m feeling punch-drunk tired and light-headed from hunger. It’s no wonder I dump the contents of the wastebasket all over the floor.

  I growl through gritted teeth as I kneel to scoop the mess into a garbage bag. Thank goodness there aren’t any pencil shavings, used tissues or chewed gum in the debris. Mostly, it’s crumpled paper, and I have it picked up in a few seconds.

  But there’s one item that eludes me—a coffee-stained business card that gloms onto the floor like it was glued there. I try to lift a corner. I try to slip a fingertip under the side. I even try pushing on the ends to crumple it. The card stays pasted to the floor. Finally I pull off one of my latex gloves, lick my finger, stab it onto the back of the card and lift. The card rises off the floor for a split second before letting go, but it’s long enough.