Page 36 of Forest Proximity
He turns fully toward me, his mouth twisting into an impressed upside-down smile.
“Just for the summer, to make extra money,” I whisper. “A few people reached out already.”
My dad nods over and over, his upside-down smile fixed in place. He leans in. “I love it. Great idea, kid.”
“Brian.” My mom reaches across me to shove his knee. “Don’t encourage her,” she hisses.
He leans over with another upside-up smile for my mom. “Why not?”
“Because she needs to move forward instead of staying stuck in the—” She swats his knee again. “Don’t roll your eyes at me. I’m not joking.”
“I know you’re not, dear,” my dad murmurs, snatching her hand.
“We do not want Stevie to win that silly bet,” my mom mutters a little too loudly. She doesn’t add that she wants more grandchildren, not a daughter who is obsessed with finding a sasquatch. That was implied.
There’s a clink of bracelets in my ear, and Muffie Horowitz leans forward, squeezing my mom’s shoulder with her wrinkled hand. “I’m with you.” She huddles even closer, bringing a cloud of powdery musk with her. “I already put my money on Marlow and Diana finding a man for her.”
I turn to face the seventy-something-year-old woman. “You did?”
“You bet. Marlow has a pool going on a chalkboard right next to your T-shirt display at the diner.” Thanks to her hearing loss, Muffie’s whisper nearly drowns out the guy talking at the pulpit. “Are you going to order any more large shirts? By the time I got around to buying one, they were all out.” Now she lowers her voice. “Medium runs a little snug ever since that fiber internet was put in.”
I don’t want to know what high-speed internet has to do with her clothing size. With Muffie, you just go with it. Besides, all I can think about is how my friends made our friendly wager a town affair. I didn’t know Marlow is a bookie now.
“Sure. I’ll order more larges,” I whisper, turning back to face the pulpit with a shake of my head. I need to talk to my friends.
After church ends, I call Marlow on speaker while I drive home, frowning as I stare out my wet windshield. The weather isn’t cooperating. While the phone rings, I mentally debate how much to charge for my Bigfoot tours and how to announce them. I might need to record another podcast episode while I wait out the rain.
Marlow answers, her voice honey-sweet like she was waiting for my call. “Hey, Stevie.”
“And? Who’s in the lead?”
She laughs. “I was wondering how long it would take for the news to reach you. I only put it up yesterday morning, but it’s already becoming quite the spectacle.”
“Marlow.” I ease off the gas now that water is pooling on the road. “Who’s winning?”
She huffs. “Well, you are—
“Ha!” I crow.
“—but only because it was the weekend crowd.Of coursethe tourists are in favor of you finding another sasquatch.” She snorts. A man’s voice is muffled in the background. Then she adds in monotone, “August wants me to tell you he bet on you, too.” She mumbles under her breath, “Traitor.”
“Tell August I have every confidence that we’re going to win this bet.” I like having him on my team.
“Yeah, yeah,” Marlow mutters. “Hey, you ran out of large shirts.”
“I heard at church.” I grin. “I’m ordering more.”
Chapter 15
Adam
This thunderstorm is nuts. Light clouds and drizzle started yesterday morning and only got heavier. Dark clouds rolled in and pouring rain persisted through the night until booming thunder pulled me out of sleep this morning. I don’t mind starting my week working on my laptop on my covered front porch, scrolling through trail-camera footage while thunder rolls through the forest around me. I have the best job, and this is my favorite kind of weather.
The photos are just what I expected to find, unfortunately. It's all deer, raccoons, and the occasional hikers, but I still haven’t found what I’m looking for. No poachers, but that’s not what I’m after. I mean, of course I’m looking for a close-up of those guys. That’s the whole point. But what I’m really after are the pictures of Stevie going Jackie Chan on that turkey last week. I haven’t gotten to them yet. So far it’s just raccoon after raccoon.
My phone dings with a message. It’s a text from Ruth with a link to the latest episode of Stevie’s podcast. It looks like she kept busy on our rainy day yesterday.
I press play, happy to have something to listen to while I work through the images from the trail cameras. I’m only threeminutes into the episode when Stevie says something that makes my stomach lurch.
