Boys, Bears, and a Serious Pair of Hiking Boots(14)
Author: Abby McDonald

“You have Internet?” I perk up. Susie hasn’t hooked us up yet, and I’m already feeling twinges of withdrawal.

He laughs. “We’re not completely backward out here.”

I blush.

“Come take a look.” He circles the counter and pulls out a huge old laptop hanging together with duct tape and sheer willpower. “I’m saving for a MacBook,” he explains, ruefully waiting for it to power up. “And a better car. And college . . .”

“Tell me about it.”

“See?” Ethan clicks away and then swivels the cracked screen toward me.

“‘Blue Ridge,’” I read aloud, “‘the luxurious side to nature.’” The web page shows the same sprawling valley that Stillwater inhabits, but glistening through the steam from a hot tub, high in the mountains. A monogrammed towel rests thick and fluffy beside a glass of champagne; a slice of chocolate cake sits on a gleaming white plate. Yup, I’d buy into that, if only I had a spare . . . “Five hundred dollars! A night?”

Ethan laughs darkly. “And that’s just the starting rate. If you want, you can get helicoptered in and have gold particles massaged into your face.”

“Right, gold particles. For when silver is just passé.”

He closes the laptop. “So, you see why we can’t really compete? Stillwater — the muddy side to nature. Doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“Nope.” I giggle. “Shame. I mean, not everyone wants to eat French cuisine and wrap themselves with kelp — some people actually like all that outdoor adventure stuff. You have activities and things like that here in town, right?”

“Sure.” He nods. “Grady and me run mountain-biking trips, when there are any people around. And we have a bunch of kayaks and fishing equipment. But it’s hardly a full-service alpine adventure center. With valets.”

“True.” I want to linger a while more and chat with Ethan, but Grady slouches back in and takes up residence behind the counter again. He gives me an impatient look.

“Got everything?”

I look down at the collection of heavy bags at my feet. “Yes.” I ignore his tone. “Thanks, Ethan.”

Thanks for the only five minutes of friendly conversation I’ve had since arriving in this town.

I can’t help but worry as I drive back to the house — keeping a careful eye out for stray moose this time. My godmother is notorious for leaping into new and exciting projects without paying much attention to details, but what happens when the B and B opens its freshly painted doors to find . . . no guests?

I find Susie in one of the downstairs rooms, wearing her paint-stained overalls and a bright pink scarf in her hair.

“Find everything?” she asks, scraping uselessly at the wallpaper with a blunt knife edge.

“Almost.” I put down the first box and rummage around for a shiny new tool. “This should make things easier.”

“Oh, thanks!” She sets to work with the scraper and right away, a whole strip of hideous 1970s orange-print paper peels clean off the wall. “Want to try? It’s fun. Like peeling off dead skin when you get a sunburn, you know?”

“Sure.” I take another tool and set to work on the other wall. She’s right: the process is strangely satisfying. “So, the B and B . . .” I rip a long piece away. “Do you think it’ll be a hit?”

“For sure!” Susie beams, wiping a damp curl of hair out of her eyes. “The setting is perfect, and this house has so much potential.” She gathers a great heap of wallpaper and piles it into a black garbage bag. I look around. There are three more bags over by the door, and industrial cleaning containers scattered across the floor.

“Have you thought about the environmental impact of all this construction?” I ask, taking a break from the stripper. “Because there’s always a risk you could disrupt the wildlife with all the noise, and —” I stop, struck by a sudden genius idea. “Ooh! You could make the whole place eco-friendly! With solar panels, and composting in the yard, and only earth-friendly, salvaged material.” I look over, eager. “I read about these new homes out near Long Island that are totally self-sufficient — they only use what energy they get from the sun, and the whole development is built out of —”

“Whoa, Jenna!” Susie stops me, laughing.

“Sorry.” I pause sheepishly. “I can get carried away. But what do you think of the idea?” I look at her expectantly. “It could be a real selling point for the place. Ecotourism is supposed to be getting really big — people going out to stay in rain-forest huts and stuff. You could be the Canadian version!”

“I think we’ve got enough on our hands just getting this place habitable in time.” Susie goes back to work.

“But it could be a real draw. I mean, that Blue Ridge place is selling luxury, so this would be a whole different angle.” I can already think of half a dozen ways to make the B and B an eco-paradise. It’s just what Olivia was talking about: my perfect summer project!

“Jenna . . .”

“And it wouldn’t even be much work! I mean, much extra. You’re in such early stages here, you could easily switch to new plans.” I beam happily. Helping out would be the perfect way to repay Susie for having me stay, plus it would totally make up for the carbon damage of my flight and all this driving.

But Susie doesn’t seem so enthusiastic. “It’s a nice idea, sweetie.” She gives me an indulgent smile, the same one my parents use when I come home from yet another protest. “But it’s really not possible right now.”

“Why not?” I don’t wait for a reply. “I know it messes up your schedule, but it’ll all be worth it later. And —”

“Jenna.” She stops me again, her smile slipping. “I appreciate your . . . enthusiasm. But making things eco-friendly isn’t a priority, I’m afraid. I know how much all this means to you,” she adds. “But honestly, we’ll be lucky to finish on budget as it is.”

“That’s the great thing about setting up as self-sufficient!” I argue. “You save tons in heating and electricity costs down the line.”

“Jenna.” Susie says my name again, but this time there’s an irritated edge to her voice that stops me short. “I don’t think you understand. I’m losing sleep over the mortgage and construction costs right now. We barely have hot water, the roof still leaks, and I can’t start advertising for guests because we don’t have a single finished room!” She looks at me, clearly exasperated. “Spending a fortune on solar panels or whatever is the last thing I need!”