Chapter 1
Flying was always the worst part of her job.
Willow leaned her head against the tiny cabin window and, for the eightieth time since she had become airborne, willed herself to fall asleep. Her breath gathered on the glass, letting the vast forest beneath the jet look covered in fog. The town was so small they didn't even have full planes that made the trip out. She was stuck on a twenty-passenger jet, cramped and feeling more and more claustrophobic.
She had a good job; she knew that.
It was easy enough: just go to a resort, let them know she was there to review it, and then sit back and enjoy the special treatment she'd receive. She was always honest in her reviews, always clear in her experience…always bored.
Soft towels and charcoal skin cleanses weren't what she went to school for. It was nice to feel pampered, nice to be allowed to enjoy the finer things, but it left her not knowing anything but spas. Not getting to really lavish in the treatments since she hadn't worked hard to earn them.
She wanted to use her brain.
Usually.
At the moment, though, she was trying her hardest to shut it off.
A child in the row behind her had the volume on his phone up while he was playing games. The old woman in the seat beside her was going on about how she wanted to go to the casino because she hadn't been to one in thirty years. The flight attendants in the galley a few rows back kept laughing and joking while ducking back there between drink refill trips.
It was killing her.
Willow pulled her sleep mask out of her bag and slid it over her eyes, making a mental note to pack earplugs next time. She made lists to make sleep come more easily. Sometimes it worked, other times it left her with a complete mental list of every city she'd ever been to, and nothing to do with that information.
She had to review at least ten parts of the hotel and spa, had to interview the owner and one 'randomly selected employee' (which was usually hand chosen by the owner), and had to take a set of photos herself to show off.
She started trying to think of catchy lines to go with the town's name – puns usually had the best response. Useless options filled in one after another, and finally her brain started to slow down and stutter. Her eyes relaxed behind the soft black cover of the sleep mask. Her breath slowed.
Sleep began to sweep over her like a warm blanket.
"Hello again, Ladies and Gentlemen. We're now preparing for our landing," the captain interrupted through the small jet's speaker system.
Of course.
Willow sighed, only slightly embarrassed that she was upset for going to a spa. Only she'd get upset over getting to live a pampered life and be paid to do it.
Removing her mask, she stared down the window over the small speck of a town they were approaching. The town spread out in a circle beneath them, like the trunk of an ancient tree split open beneath her.
Suddenly, she wasn't tired.
Suddenly, she wasn't restless.
Her heart sped just at the view of the town, something she didn't expect. Just setting eyes on it felt right to her, looked right to her. Willow shoved her mask and half-read book into her bag and tensed up as the wheels of the plane finally touched down.
"We've now landed in West Valley. Welcome back to those that are from here. If this is your first time, we hope you'll enjoy your stay here."
***
West Valley looked and felt like the kind of town that only existed for tourists. The air was just starting to thaw from the long winter, and travel season reared its ugly head. Three main roads built up the busiest parts of the town. On them was every important building – police station and town official's offices, and also every store imaginable. Housing and apartments radiated around these streets like a spiral.
Her ride-share apps left her empty handed, and so instead she was in the back of a local taxi. The advertisement and number for the cab company were hand painted on the door. If she had come across this car in a city she wouldn't even look in its general direction, much less get in it and pay to go anywhere. The inside had the cloying stench of too many different air fresheners used over the years. It left the air almost chalky.
She asked for the scenic route because despite her disgust at the ride, something about the town was calling her, and she wanted to know what.
The town was disappointing, though.
Almost half of the shops weren't open yet, their owners probably out of town from the harsh cold. West Valley was just on the line of too-much kitsch, where playful quirkiness collided with being a tacky eyesore.
Wolf and rabbit sculptures decorated the town, made of wood or metal, their eyes all painted a similar green to the deep forests that surrounded the town. The rabbit sculptures were almost always being eaten, laying the reality of nature out in the open.
A couple of the sculptures were too much, too creepy, and Willow had to beg to ask her driver to stop so she could snag photos of them. It wasn't anything she could use in her review of the resort, but something about them held her attention. Not many towns or cities laid out the brutality of nature so plainly in view for everyone.
Finally, they made their way to her destination, the cab driver not seeming to mind that she was taking up so much of his time. The spa and hotel were in the center of the town, nestled right next to an expansive, black lake. The water looked like a large, polished stone.
"Thank you," Willow said as she nodded to the cab driver and he handed over her bags. She tipped him, feeling guilty for making him stop every couple of miles, and prepared herself.
It was always the same.
In order to get a good review, resorts would treat her like royalty. They'd say they treat every guest the same way as they usher her to the front of the line ahead of the others. It left her feeling pampered, but still a bit sleazy for not knowing how regular guests were treated. She could never give a completely honest review.
Willow pulled out her phone and took a couple pictures of the resort itself, with its shimmering glass and red stone. It didn't fit the rest of the folksy town. It was modern and sleek, and stuck out like a sore thumb.
"Miss Royd! We were hoping to pick you up at the airport. I'm so sorry," a short older man bumbled out, apologizing. He looked sweaty and flustered. "I'm Leon Edwin. I own The Grand West," he explained, motioning to the resort.
"Nice to meet you. You can call me Willow," she replied without thought. He offered his hand to her, and she unwillingly took it and shook. His fingers were greasy, she couldn't help but wonder what he was stressing about. Usually, the owners weren't so flustered when they'd meet her.
"Is there a problem?" she couldn't help a slight smile that traced across her lips.
"Oh, no," he said, shaking his head and smoothing out his shirt. "I had been working out and took the stairs down from the fourth floor is all," he answered. His words felt like a lie, but Willow didn't question him any further. "Can I take you on a tour of The Grand West once you're settled?" he asked. Willow was starting to wonder if he used the resort's full name every time he referred to it. A walking-talking billboard.
"I'd love that."
"Good, good. Come in and we'll get you your room first then," he said briskly, holding open the door for her.
As slimy and sweaty of a man as Leon was, the resort was gorgeous.
By the time he'd shown her around and offered her a drink four times, Willow was glad to be free of him. She collapsed back on her bed and sighed. This wasn't a real job. This wasn't journalism. She'd rather be an editor for the site instead, able to at least oversee projects than have to be flirted with by business owners dying for a good review.
The resort had seemed empty, though, so she could see why they were desperate to impress. She'd only seen six employees, and each seemed stressed and overworked. It was a bit of a drawback to see what cost her relaxation was on other people.
Pulling out her laptop, Willow pulled up a couple local news sites, dying for anything of interest she could do outside of the resort. She wasn't going to spend her entire week being followed around by a sweaty older man.
She needed something new.