I stifle my groan as I follow her direction and stand in front of a digital camera with a white screen set behind me.

“Smile,” she says as the flash goes off, catching me off guard, taking what I’m sure is a horrible image. “Okay, here’s your orientation package. Training begins tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m. in the grand ballroom.” She reaches behind the desk and hands me a canvas tote bag. “Inside you’ll find all kinds of useful things like our employee guidelines handbook, information about the hotel and what our guests will expect of service; a complimentary bottle of bug spray, though the main guest areas are equipped with magnets to deal with them. A pocket-sized flashlight and a can of bear spray.” She must see the flash of panic on my face because she quickly adds, “Don’t worry; you won’t need that within the main gates. The perimeter’s wired with electric fencing. We want our guests to enjoy Alaska’s wildlife through guided tours, not find it waiting for them as they step out the lodge doors.”

I give a nervous laugh. “Okay. Good.” I know the state has plenty of black and brown bears, but I didn’t think I’d have to worry about them here.

“And here.” Her fingers are clicking furiously on her screen again and then, with a jangle of her key chain, she’s unlocking a drawer and handing me an iPad and headset. “There’s an orientation video loaded up on here. It has everything on it that you missed tonight. You can return the iPad to me here, tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“And if you hurry, you can still grab a bite to eat in the staff lodge. Go out these doors,” her hand gestures to the left, “and follow the signs for the village.”

“Great. Is that where I can make calls home?” I sent a quick text from Homer to let my parents know I landed, but my mama will be calling the front desk if I don’t send exact coordinates for where she can find me should she need to.

“Yes. The bandwidth isn’t enough for streaming videos, but you’ll be able to do basic things like send e-mails and messages, check Facebook, that sort of thing.” Belinda pulls the freshly printed card out of the printer and, after swiping it across a machine, sets it on the counter along with a lanyard and two other cards. “You need to wear your employee card at all times. This card is for the cafeteria.” She taps the blue one. “Food is greatly subsidized for staff, and it’s a no-cash system, so you can load money onto it or ask that a portion of your salary be garnered for it.”

“Just like campus.”

“Yup. And this other card gets you into your cabin. You’re in cabin seven. The others are already here.”

“How many others are there?”

“Six per cabin.”

I let that news sink in. I haven’t had a roommate since my first week of freshman year. That was a short-lived disaster. When I phoned my mama to tell her that the girl locked me out so she could smoke pot and have sex with her boyfriend, Mama quickly forked over another two thousand dollars and I snagged one of the last available private rooms. We’re not poor, but my parents like to live frugally.

Either way, neither Mama nor her bank account will fix a problem with a shitty roommate here.

Or five shitty roommates, potentially.

I smile wide, another trick I’ve learned. The worse the situation, the bigger my smile needs to be. My face hurts from all the smiling I’ve done these past few months. “Okay, great. Thank you so much.”

“I’m the hotel manager. You will be reporting in to Paige Warhill for the housekeeping department. But, if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.” That doesn’t sound genuine.

Slinging my hiker’s backpack over my shoulders, I remind her, “You’ll look into my position, right?”

She’s already typing away on the computer, her eyes on the screen. “Yes. Definitely.”

~ ~ ~ ~

“Jed came home today.”

“That’s great.” No matter how hard I try to remove him from my daily—heck, hourly—thoughts, Mama’s always good for reminding me. She was probably watching for his arrival since noon. We can see the Enderbeys’s front porch from our kitchen window.

“Have you talked to him lately?”

“No.” Not for nearly two months. For a while there, we kept in regular contact. That’s what he wanted, to stay close friends. Ever since he started dating her though, we’ve been incommunicado.

“Well, he brought that trollop along with him. Can you believe that? I don’t understand what he sees in her.”

“What?” The word comes out like a hiss, the news a swift kick to my stomach, even all the way up in Alaska. I hadn’t expected it so soon. Jed has officially brought her into our world. Into the place of our childhood, where we’d lie in the grass and decide what the clouds were shaped like, where we nursed an abandoned kitten back to health. We’ve lived next to Jed and his family for as long as I can remember. Jed and I used to swing on the tire tied to the oak tree and catch toads in the pond between our properties when we were little.

“But let’s not worry too much. Reverend Enderbey thinks that a few days with his family and her together will prove to him that she doesn’t belong in our lives.”

Our lives.

I squeeze my eyes shut and will this nauseating churn in my stomach to go away. I don’t want to talk, or think, or cry over Jed anymore. “I’m in cabin seven, if there’s an emergency. I already sent you all the other information. Remember, I won’t be carrying my cell phone around with me. It doesn’t work well here, anyway.”

“I don’t like not being able to get hold of you when I need to, Abigail,” she says in her typical stern voice. There is no other tone with her, even when she’s happy. Right now, I’m guessing she’s sitting at the harvest table in our kitchen, her floral robe stretched over her 370 pound body, enjoying her coffee. The woman drinks coffee late into the night and then complains that she can’t fall asleep.

“I’m going to be fine.” As long as you stop giving me updates about my ex and his new girlfriend.

“Are you safe there?”

“Yes. They have security and cameras and, honestly, I don’t think anyone is going to pay twelve hundred dollars a night to commit crimes.”

“Rich people make for immoral people.”

I roll my eyes, but only because she can’t see me. She’d wallop me if she knew. For someone so forgiving of Jed, she sure is judgmental of everyone else.

“Do they have plumbing, at least?”

I gaze around the place and burst out with laughter. It’s a log building with a cafeteria-style dining section on one side and several sectional couches on the other, with a mammoth two-sided stone fireplace situated in the center, the fire burning within giving off considerable heat. Beyond swinging doors in the back, I can hear dishes and cutlery clattering, and the occasional laugh. While there aren’t crystal chandeliers, it’s beyond simply “nice.” “Yes, they have plumbing.”

“Don’t you be laughing at my concern for you,” Mama scolds. “Are they feeding you well?”

I push the pan-seared chicken around on my plate. I’m not sure what the sauce is but it’s delicious, as are the mashed potatoes and string beans. Then again, I’m not picky when it comes to food and I have a healthy appetite. Thank God I also have my father’s high metabolism, otherwise I’d likely be waddling out of here by August. “I’m going to eat better here than all year on campus. I’ve gotta go now. I haven’t even made it to my cabin yet.”

“Are there a lot of people working there?” she asks, ignoring my attempt at a dismissal.

“Yes. Quite a few.” The staff lodge looks like it could accommodate a hundred people. According to the video I just watched, Wolf Cove Hotel—an adults-only getaway—has fifty guest rooms and three penthouse cabins available, so it’s not nearly as big as a typical Wolf hotel. Apparently the one down in LA can accommodate 1,500 guests.