Free Cabin Girl by Kristin Butcher

Chapter One
    Flying in a Beaver floatplane is like being deaf—only louder. Mrs. Watkins and I don’t even try to talk over the engine noise. We peer through our portholes at Mother Nature’s crazy quilt of sun-soaked lakes stitched with forest. The plane is so low, I can see its shadow on the water.
    I have butterflies in my stomach. Not because of flying. I’ve flown dozens of times. I’ve even flown to Witch Lake but always as a guest. This time I’m going as an employee—thanks to my godfather, Gabe Rutherford. He owns Witch Lake Lodge, and when he offered me a summer job as cabin girl, I jumped at it. I’m going to be cleaning toilets, changing beds and mopping floors. It’s not exactly glamorous, but I don’t care. I’ll be making money. Even better, my parents won’t be there. Freedom, at last!
    Jim, the pilot, nudges Mr. Watkins and points out the cockpit window. I crane my neck, but the nose of the plane is so high, all I see is blue sky. As if reading my thoughts, Jim lowers one wing and banks left. And there it is—Witch Lake.
    It looks different from the air. The first thing I notice is the red-roofed lodge perched on a hill. A deck dotted with yellow umbrellas stretches its entire length. It looks like a giant flower box. The guest cabins are arranged in a tidy semicircle behind the lodge, their paths connecting to the main building like spokes of a wheel. Outbuildings are scattered in out-of-the way corners. Staff quarters line an isolated path leading into the bush. A wide gravel walkway and lush green lawn roll down the hill from the lodge to the lake. It’s the middle of the day, which means guests and guides are out fishing, leaving the dock abandoned except for a couple of boats tied to one side. Parked nearby is a trailer hooked to an ATV . Two men are leaning against it. They shield their eyes and look up. One of them is Gabe. I smile and wave, but he doesn’t see.
    By the time the Beaver taxis in, the place is hopping. The trailer has been backed onto the dock. And two young women, another guy and a big black Lab have shown up. Even before the plane comes to a full stop, Jim jumps out and helps Gabe secure it. The Lab—white-muzzled and heavy with age—wags himself over to Jim. He sniffs the pilot’s pants pocket and pushes his nose into his hand. When Jim ignores him, the Lab lifts his head and barks.
    Jim laughs and scratches behind the dog’s ears. “Can’t fool you, can I, old man? Here you go.” He reaches into his pocket and offers the dog a treat. Then he scratches the Lab’s head again and croons, “Good boy, Sid.”
    Gabe helps Mrs. Watkins out of the plane, and I jump down behind her. Gabe smiles. “Good to see you, Bailey. It’s gonna get busy around here real quick. I hope you’re ready.”
    Without waiting for me to reply, he gestures to the two women standing near the end of the dock. They hurry over. Close up, I see they are younger than I had first thought, probably no more than a few years older than I am. One is tall, blond and athletic looking. The other is tiny, dark and very tanned, which makes the scar zigzagging down her cheek and neck look like white lightning.
    â€œThis is Meira and April,” Gabe says. “They’re our waitresses. They’ll introduce you to the other staff and help you get a feel for the place.”
    I smile shyly. The waitresses do the same.
    â€œApril,” Gabe says to the one with the scar, “Bailey is going to be your new cabin mate. I’d like you to help her get settled in.” Then he turns to Meira. “Let Cook know that Mr. and Mrs. Watkins plan to fish this afternoon, but they need lunch first.” He calls to the older man he was standing with earlier. “Ed, tell Josh to get his boat ready. Drake,” he hollers to the guy loading luggage onto the trailer, “after you take those bags to cabin four,