Wisteria Cottage

My Arrival

Carter

After a plane ride, a short ride on a bus that REEKED of urine, and a near miss of the ferry which is the reason I've been nursing a cup of coffee for the past hour, I'm rethinking all my life choices. Well, to be fair, I do that regularly. And honestly, this misadventure wasn't even my idea. I really had no choice after Chief called me into his office Friday. It went something like this:

"Carter, sit." I did, even though it felt like I'd had ants in my pants all week. "Losing a partner is tough. It's taken down a lot of our best." I almost interrupted because I was NOT about to let this ruin my career, but he lifted his eyebrows at me and I settled for scowling instead. "You need a break. I don't want to lose you. So, here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna take a leave of absence." He lifted his hand this time, he KNEW I would say something. "Shut up and listen, Carter. My sister's rich husband is finally coming in handy. His family has a place, they usually go every summer and get out of my hair but she's about to pop this kid any minute so they didn't go. Anyway, it's empty and it's yours. You're gonna sit your ass in one of those Adirondack chairs, look at the ocean, and stop pacing around my damn department chewing out everybody who dares speak to you."

There are lots of summer lake cottages around, the great lakes are full of them. And yes, he said ocean. And no, I didn't catch it. Look, I had a lot on my mind. Things like almost being put in the ground with my partner last week. And Chief thinking I was a mess. And my life, which was, okay IS, a mess. And my stomach growling. I was hungry. Plus, I could kinda see where he was coming from. I'd yelled at Detective Brown for walking too close to my desk today. Even I realized that was a bit much. He was offering me two weeks to fish, maybe have a fire, and get away from the craziness and fumes of the Windy City. It didn't sound so bad. "Fine."

He looked almost shocked, like I was gonna argue. Okay, fair point. He thrust some papers at me and sent me to personnel, saying they'd even take care of my plane ticket. Wait, plane?

It was too late. And that's how I was tricked to flying into Portland. No, not Oregon. Maine. And here I was waiting for a ferry to take me to Skye Island. Stupid name for an island. And why wasn't there a damn bridge? If I hadn't been in a bad mood this morning, I sure as hell was by the time I hiked, in the dark, about a half mile from the dock to a cottage tucked down a cobblestone alley. Do you know how hard it is to roll a suitcase along cobblestones? Fuck my life. At least the key was where Chief told me it would be.

*** Ready for a new story?  This one will be fairly short and feature a grumpy cop and a sunshine gardener who swore off tourists a long time ago.  What could possibly go wrong?!?!