Page 6 of The Dinner Party

The hitchhiker is dressed inappropriately for the weather in a light jacket—he must be freezing. How long has he been out there? There aren’t many cars going by, and if you don’t stop, he could be there for hours.

But what can you do? You can’t stop. You’re not on a road trip—you have to get to this dinner party so you can earn enough money to pay your rent. And even if you didn’t have anywhere to go, it’s not a good idea to stop for a hitchhiker. You’re a young woman, all alone in the middle of nowhere. It could be dangerous.

Plus, this hitchhiker looks a little sketchy. He’s got unkempt hair and a big bushy beard. There’s something a little wild about his expression.

Then again, this poor man has been standing out in the cold for God knows how long. How could you just drive by?

To stop for the hitchhiker, turn to Chapter 10 (page 24)

To keep driving, turn to Chapter 14 (page 34)

10

You have to stop for the hitchhiker. It’s the decent thing to do. You can’t let a man freeze to death waiting for a ride.

You pull over along the side of the road. A smile curls across the hitchhiker’s face, and you’re glad you made this decision. Helping a fellow human is the right thing to do. Humans are almost as good as animals.

“Thank you so much,” the hitchhiker says as he climbs into the car beside you. He looks to be around fifty, with fine lines around his eyes and a lot of gray in his bushy beard, but not quite as much in his wild hair.

“Of course,” you say. “How long were you waiting out there?”

“Two hours.”

“Oh wow.” You feel a rush of sympathy for this man. “Well, I’m heading toward Peyton Peak. Where are you going?”

“Actually, that’s perfect,” he says. “I’m going to stay with a friend just at the base of the mountain. So you can drop me off right before you head up to the peak.”

“Happy to,” you say. “I’m Sloan, by the way.”

He smiles, revealing a mouthful of slightly yellow but relatively intact teeth. “Jasper.”

You didn’t realize how lonely you were during this drive until Jasper showed up. You’re grateful for the company, and the two of you strike up a conversation. Jasper tells you that he recently lost his wife, and ever since, he’s been drifting from state to state, taking odd jobs when he can find them.

“Lorna always wanted to see the country,” he says, “and she never got around to it while she was still alive. So now is her chance.”

You look over your shoulder, checking to make sure the ghost of Lorna isn’t in the backseat. “What do you mean?”

He pats his duffel bag. “I carry her ashes everywhere I go. That way everything I see, she sees too.”

That’s really sweet. A little creepy, sure, but mostly sweet. As long as the duffel bag just contains Lorna’s ashes and not… well, Lorna.

After another 20 minutes of driving, you reach a turn-off on the main road. Jasper points to it. “That’s me,” he says.

You slow down, squinting at the dark road. It’s an unlit, narrow path that is paved, but just barely. It’s badly overgrown with weeds and branches. You pull over, not sure what to do.

“It’s not far from here,” Jasper says. “Maybe a 15-minute walk. But I won’t say no if you wouldn’t mind giving me a ride.”

You hesitate. You hate the idea of kicking Jasper out and letting him walk down that cold, dark path all by himself. You’ve made good time on your drive, and you have time for the quick detour to the cabin. But when you start to turn the steering wheel, you hesitate. Something in your gut is telling you it would be a mistake to go down that narrow road.

But that’s silly. Isn’t it?

To give Jasper a ride directly to his cabin, turn to Chapter 12 (page 29)

To drop him off right here, turn to Chapter 11 (page 27)

11

“Sorry, I’d better get going,” you tell Jasper. “I’m supposed to be at this dinner party. I don’t want to be late.”