I spent the day helping Daniel with his chores, and it was work. We cleaned up the breakfast disaster, and then we had to go do the rooms. Make
the beds, clean the bathrooms. I had never scrubbed a shower before. It was exhausting.
And he did this every day.
It gave me a whole new appreciation for my housekeeper.
Bri liked to say she could tell I’d never cried in a walk-in fridge before. I’d never worked retail or in a restaurant. She said it should be mandatory that everyone work at a fast-food place for six months because it changes you, and I think this is what she meant.
It made me think about every time I left a dirty makeup wipe on the counter, or I tossed my shoes on the floor and came back to them put away. I must seem so rude, I realized.
By the time Jessica and Gabby came back from their bike ride, I’d calmed down a little.
I went to dinner at Jane’s with them. Daniel told me Liz wasn’t working, thank God, so nobody there recognized me. And the food was good. I don’t know what they were talking about. I liked it. Doreen was there, and she said they sourced their produce locally. The eggs and milk came from Doug’s farm.
We came back after dinner and spent a few hours in the screened-in gazebo by the river, drinking wine and hanging out. It was Saturday, so
Daniel was at the VFW calling bingo, and I didn’t even get to see him around the house. I would rather have been there with him than here with Gabby and Jessica.
I still wasn’t happy with either of them. But Gabby promised she wouldn’t write a review, so at least Daniel was spared that.
I snuck back in to sleep with him after they finally went to bed at midnight. I woke up at 5:45 again when he did and went back to my room. And that was it. The weekend was over.
Our last breakfast Sunday morning was uneventful—and really good. Gabby asked for the recipe for the lingonberry crepes Daniel had made, and he gave her a laminated recipe card on Grant House cardstock that he already had printed and waiting.
He was an excellent host. I felt confident that despite the squirrel/acorn debacle, he’d adequately redeemed the Grant House in the eyes of my friends.
I didn’t need any redemption from him. I was very happy with the service I got. All weekend. Seven times.
We were loading our bags in the car to go home, and I had the saddest feeling.
I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to go back to the real world and my crappy situation with Neil.
And the other thing. I didn’t feel like I got enough time with Daniel.
I started thinking about when I would come again, and I realized I was already canceling plans with other people in my head to make time to be here. I’d gone from being positive I was never going to see him again, to seeing him being the only thing I felt like doing.
Somewhere deep in the back of my brain, a warning signal flashed.
I was having more fun with him than I expected. I wanted to spend more time with him than I expected—and this wasn’t a good thing. It felt good, but it wasn’t.
I couldn’t develop a dependency on someone I couldn’t have long term.
And Daniel I could not have long term.
Chemistry and things in common aside, Daniel would never work in my life. He was too young, too far away.
He was too different…
I knew this. But I was getting ahead of myself. All this was just the excitement of something new. These feelings would fizzle out. In a few months we’d get tired of each other, and this would run its course, and we’d both move on. I wasn’t going to worry about it.
I dropped my bag in the trunk and came around to the side of the SUV where Gabby was leaning, looking at her screen.
She had TripAdvisor up. There was a one-star rating at the top of the page.
When she saw me, she tucked her phone into her purse. “What are you doing?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“Nothing,” she said quickly.
“Were you rating the Grant House?”
Jessica moaned, tossing her bag into the back seat. “Who cares?” “She said she wouldn’t,” I snapped at her.
Gabby gave me a look. “Ali, people depend on my reviews. This is my honest experience.”
I pressed my lips into a line.
“Look, I was gentle, okay? And I made sure to mention that he comped our stay—”
“Wait. He what?”
She shrugged. “He comped our stay.” I shook my head at her. “Why?”
She looked at me like I’d spoken the word in another language. “Uh, because I complained?”
“Why would you do that? He was perfectly polite to us.”
She put a hand on her hip. “Come on, Ali. A dog attacked you. A dang squirrel was in the house. We didn’t eat breakfast yesterday, and it was part of what we paid for. Jessica still has red marks on her arms from the acorns.”
“You’re holding him accountable for the damn trees?”
She crossed her arms. “Yeah. I am. If they drop acorns hard enough to hurt people, then they shouldn’t be where guests are walking around. One of us could have lost an eye. He could have at least had signs up warning us about falling debris. What’s with you?”
I let a shaky breath out through my nose. I was furious.
I saw Daniel get up at 5:45 in the morning just to make sure we had coffee if we happened to be awake wandering the halls. I knew the cheese he put out for us every night came from Doug’s farm to help keep him in business, and Daniel had purchased that for our appetizer hour, and now he was losing money on that because we didn’t even pay for our stay.
Now not only was Daniel going to be dinged on his star rating, it had cost him money to host us. And he needed that money.
I hated that I’d come here with them. I felt ashamed by association. Had they always been like this? Or was I just now starting to find it unacceptable?
Had I been like this once?
And the answer to that made me feel ashamed too.
I blew a calming breath through tight lips.
Gabby would never back down from this. The more I pushed her, the more she’d dig in. She was way too entitled.
But I had a different idea.
“Okay. You’re right. It’s your experience,” I said. And then, “Hey, do you guys want to see something cool?” I asked.
Jessica looked at her watch and blew out an impatient breath. “Fine. But can we make it quick?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Come on. Follow me.”
I walked them to the garage and held the door handle, turning to them. “I saw this yesterday while you were on your bike ride.” I knocked and then peeked inside. Daniel was at his workbench. “Can I show them those freestyle projects you have?”
He blinked at me. “Sure.”
I let them in and took them to the pieces he kept in the corner of the garage.
“Oh, wow…” Gabby breathed.
“Aren’t these cool?” I asked. “He’s a sixth-generation carpenter. His great-great-great-grandfather actually built the house we stayed in.”
“Does he sell these?” Gabby asked. I nodded. “Yup.”
Jessica was examining the mirror. “This would be great in Marcus’s office at the cabin. I didn’t get him a birthday gift. How much?” she asked, looking over at Daniel.
“Three thousand,” I said before he could answer. “I asked him yesterday. This one took over a hundred hours to make. The wood’s—what did you say it was?” I asked him.
Daniel was blinking at me. “Black walnut?”
“Black walnut,” I said, turning back to her. “It’s one of a kind.”
“I’ll take it,” Jessica said, like an afterthought. “Do you take Venmo?” “Uh, yeah?” Daniel said, looking shocked.
I pointed to the horse. “I thought that one would be cool for the den at your house,” I told Gabby. “This one is thirty-five hundred. It’s hand- wrought from a beam that was in a hundred-year-old barn. See the color? The ammonia from the animal’s urine stains the wood,” I said, repeating what he had told me. “That’s where the bracket used to be, this lighter spot?”
She crouched to look at it.
“Can he put it in the car?” she asked. “It looks heavy.”
A text pinged to my cell phone as we drove out of Wakan a half hour later. I was in the middle of writing the Grant House a five-star review.
Daniel: WTH???
I smiled.
Me: I’m sorry they were like that. You shouldn’t have comped their stay.
I could see him writing a text. The dots were bouncing.
Daniel: It was the right thing to do. Their visit wasn’t up to my standard. It was customer service.
And then: They paid way too much for those pieces. You
shouldn’t have told them they cost so much.
I scoffed quietly. It was nothing for them. Just like it was nothing for me. I’d played with a pig in a two-thousand-dollar dress. I stepped in dog poop in a shoe that cost as much as the weekend away for three that Daniel
just comped, and I just left it there. It wasn’t even worth my time to clean it. I didn’t even think about these things. They were insignificant to me.
I was floating around in some universe that I was beginning to realize most people didn’t live in. Daniel certainly didn’t.
I didn’t like how easy it was for someone like Gabby, in her position of privilege, to punch down. At all.
It was such an unfair power dynamic. She was like a kid wielding her one-star reviews like a toy, for fun. Only it wasn’t a game. It was someone’s livelihood.
And here was Daniel, doing what he felt was the right thing, refunding the whole weekend. He was in the worst position to be generous, yet he was. And she was in the best position to show grace, and she didn’t. And doing it would have cost her nothing.
And that was the fundamental difference between them. I typed my response.
Me: You deserved asshole tax. Trust me.
And then I paused, thinking about what I wanted to say.
Me: Know your worth, Daniel.
I wish it had always been as easy to know mine.
