Well, at least Mum isn't likely to track me down here. It seems like the middle of absolutely nowhere.
A fist raps on the front door.
Sam gives up on interrogating me and swings the door open for the man I'd seen a few minutes ago. What did she say his name was? I got distracted by her smile and her sexy body, and the information flew out of my ear. The bloke lugs my suitcases into the living room and sets them down.
"There ya go," he says with a smile. Then he offers his hand to me. "Wayne Hendley. Glad to meet you, mister…"
"Ben Montague," I say, shaking Wayne's hand. "But there's no need to be formal about. Just call me Ben."
"Are you British or something?"
"Yes, I am."
He grins. "Wait'll I tell my wife I met an honest-to-goodness British guy. She'll be tickled pink."
"I'm chuffed to meet another American. Sam's the only one I've talked to since I arrived in New Hampshire."
"Everybody's real nice up here. You'll love it." Wayne slaps my arm. "Once the road's clear, you should stop by my place for dinner before you head out to wherever you're going. My wife cooks the best lobster stew you'll ever eat."
"Isn't this a landlocked state?"
"No," he says with what sounds like sarcastic offense. "We've got a whole eighteen miles of Atlantic shoreline."
"Do you? That's impressive."
"At least we're not stuck in the middle of the North Atlantic like you Brits. You're practically in Greenland." He smirks and waggles his eyebrows. I have no idea what that means, but he returns to normal conversation so I don't get a chance to ask him how the UK is practically in Greenland. "We've got a great little grocery store in town. They get seafood shipped in from Maine, mostly."
"I see. Lobster stew sounds lovely." I say that to be polite, but I'm not at all convinced I want to eat that food. "I'm on my way to Hartmoor, but I got lost."
"Not a backwoods boy, hey? While you're here, you should take a little trip down the hill to North Slipperton. That's the nearest town."
"Is there a South Slipperton?"
"Nope. You'd think there would be, but we've only got North Slipperton. No east or west either."
Sam shuffles closer to us. "But I thought the road was still closed."
"Pete Messing says the trail through his property is in good shape," Wayne tells her. "You should be able to get down the hill no problem. Assuming Ben here can handle the ride. Do you British folks have snowmobiles?"
"I've never seen one," I say. "But then, I don't go to the places where people might need them."
"City boy, eh?"
"No. I just prefer to stay close to home."
"I get it." Wayne sighs, hooking his thumbs inside his waistband. "I'll leave you youngsters to enjoy the day on your own. If you make it into town, get Sam to show you the Crab Cottage. They've got the best seafood for fifty miles." He winks at me. "The Crab Cottage is a restaurant, by the way, not a hotel for crustaceans."
Yes, if he hadn't told me that I would've expected to find lobsters and crabs enjoying afternoon tea at the cottage.
Wayne ambles out of the house, shutting the door.
I hunch my shoulders. "Should we go into the village?"
"Sure, if you want. Supposed to be warmer today, so you won't freeze riding on my machine."
"The pink-striped snowmobile."
"Yep. You got a problem with riding on a pink-striped machine?"