Wisteria Cottage

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Carter

He's STILL whistling. I head downstairs, pretty sure that I saw a... yes, there it is. On the fridge is a card for TaR, Thorns and Roses landscape company. That must be who snow white works for. I immediately call.

"Jack Skye, how can I help you?"

"Hey, I'm staying at Wisteria cottage" which is a stupid name, by the way, but all the houses on the island seem to be owned by people pretentious enough to name them. "I think one of your workers is here."

"Yes, Finn should be there about now."

"Well he's loud! Who mows at..." I glance at the clock, realizing that it's later than I thought. "10:30?"  I want to blame it on the time change but it's just an hour and breakfast was quite awhile ago now.  I lost track of time.  It's easy to do when you work shifts and the last two weeks have been much worse than usual.

"Sir, all of our mowers are either reel or electric, and our contract clearly states that we can start anytime after 8."

"Well it's clicky! And he's whistling!" I immediately realize that I am, in fact, being an asshole, but I'm sort of all in at this point. I'm not surprised when the dude on the other end sighs.

"I'm happy to radio him and ask him not to whistle. Finn is one of our best, and I'm sure he didn't mean to cause you so much... distress."

Okay, now he's fucking with me but I sort of deserve it. "Fine, thanks."

Thirty seconds later all I can hear is the clickity clack of the mower which is actually kind of soothing. I way overreacted. Maybe Chief was right, I do need a break. I decide to apologize to Snow White after I get a shower. Once I've finally cleared away the travel day and stink, he's gone. Oh well, it's for the best because I probably would have screwed that up too.

I eat a banana, then quickly look through the brochures on the table. One for a garden show, another garden show, the Rose Hotel, a pizza flyer which actually might be useful, ah, a visitors guide. Worth flipping through. Distinguished homes, blah. No cars, weird. Mostly summer cottages, only 400 year round residents. I think there are more than 400 people in my apartment complex back home. Okay, things to do. Rent a canoe and visit some nearby island with a fort on it. Sure. Fishing tours. Okay, I can do that. Garden tours. Geesh, what IS it with these folks and flowers? You know what I need? A bar. You can learn more about a place by spending an hour in its bar than flipping through brochures. The trick is getting there early. It's time to go meet some regulars. The binder about the house tells me the wifi info and where the key is to the garage. There are bikes. Um, yeah, no. I'll walk, thanks.

Half an hour later I give up and go into the coffee shop to ask where the local bar is. I should have known that this place would be too posh to have something as distasteful as a bar on main street. Heaven forbid they offend someone. I'm at the register and spit out half my order before I realize who I'm speaking to. "Black, the largest... hey Snow White."

"Hello yourself, wisteria man. The largest...?

"Oh, sorry. Largest you have."

He giggles and somehow it's almost cute. "We just call that a large. $3.15. Any flavor?"

"No, just coffee. Black."

"Whatever makes you happy." He turns back towards me and slides the coffee towards me as I swipe my card.

"Oh, wait, where's the nearest bar? Actually, are you a local?"

He's looking at me very oddly. "I'm a full-timer, yeah, but this is a dry island." I'm trying to fathom how there can possibly be no alcohol on the island when a group of about ten walk in, being loud and obnoxious. "Excuse me."

Right, he's working. Again. Damn, snow white keeps busy. I'm halfway back to the cottage before I realize I forgot to apologize.