Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Before taking off, I plug in the address to the rental cabin and know it’ll take longer than the two hours it estimates.
I take it slow to avoid driving into a ditch. I’m not used to this amount of snow, so I can only see a couple of feet in front of me. My stress level shoots up to level eleven. There’s no way I can turn around now.
I’m as committed to this drive as I am to writing this ridiculous article. The windshield wipers whoosh back and forth, and though I have them on high, they don’t clear the flurries fast enough. My heart rapidly beats, and I take in slow, calm breaths, not allowing my anxiety to get the best of me.
I grip the steering wheel through the twisting curves and long straight roads.
I can’t believe I’m driving a fucking minivan in a blizzard.
When I finally arrive at the infamous Vermont town, I’m drained. Some of the buildings are decorated like gingerbread houses, and colorful lights adorn all the trees and streetlights. It looks like a mini North Pole, something one would expect to see on a movie set. Santa’s workshop, along with a massive tree, is the main focus in the center of the square. I continue forward, surprised to see so many people shopping.
My cabin is another twenty miles. Eventually, I turn onto a road that leads to only God knows where. Snow weighs down the branches of the evergreens lining each side of the path. The ice crunches beneath the tires, and when I arrive at a two-story cabin, my mouth drops.
I double-check the address and instructions Peggy emailed me. It’s gorgeous and secluded, far enough away from town not to be in the middle of the chaos. It’s about a twenty-minute drive there and back.
Once I turn off the engine, I grab everything because I only want to make one trip. By some miracle, I make it to the back deck without busting my ass. I look under the mat for the key and frown when it’s not there. What the hell? I search for a note or a rock that it could be hiding under, but no such luck.
You’ve gotta be kidding me.
Instead of leaving, I try the door handle and am relieved and shocked when I find it’s unlocked.
Thank God.
Slowly, I twist and push, almost expecting someone to jump out at me. The fact this place was unlocked is odd and makes me paranoid.
“Hello?” I call out. When no one answers, I sigh in relief and remove my scarf. I pull out my self-defense keychain from my pocket, then hang my coat on a spare hook by the door. My jeans are cold and wet from the snow, so after I kick off my boots, I bend and roll them up.
With rentals, the owners usually leave a binder with things to do in town or some sort of housewarming note, but I don’t see anything like that. When I go into the kitchen, I notice a bowl, spoon, and coffee mug in the sink.
Opening the fridge and freezer, I see containers with leftovers and lots of frozen meat. The pantry is full of food too. I find it somewhat odd, but I’m not one to be picky, given my situation. I’ll have Peggy inform them that their cleaner missed a few things before I checked in.
When I enter the living room, my eyes land on the tall Christmas tree decorated with bright colored lights and what looks like homemade Christmas ornaments. I take two steps forward, my lips pursing with distaste. I should’ve told Peggy to specify no holiday decorations, but I also didn’t expect it to look like the inside of a Christmas store.
As I walk past the mantel, I glance over at a mini scene that looks identical to the gingerbread houses in town. I turn one of the reindeer to get a better look at its face. Whoever owns this place is weirdly obsessed. My best guess is an older couple uses this as their vacation home and rents it during the winter. They probably go by Mr. and Mrs. Claus.
Shaking my head, I grip the handle of my suitcase and carry it upstairs. I walk down a hallway, looking into each of the rooms. The largest bedroom has a king-sized bed and a fireplace. And of course, another tree decorated to the max. As I turn my head, I notice an en suite with a large tub and standing shower that I’m claiming as mine for the next two weeks. The spare room down the hall is spacious and nice, but I could go without the tree in the corner. I’m tempted to unplug every single one of them, but I don’t have the energy. I’m exhausted and sore from sitting for so long.