Chapter 11

Bert shivered, which was unusual. He had dozed off reading a mystery book before having any dinner, and now his stomach was growling.

“The heat must have gone off,” he realized.

He was in the main room, a combination living room and open kitchen-dining area. The left side was a carpeted living room space with a sofa, two chairs, and a fireplace, while on the right side was a tiled kitchen and dining area.

Bert’s eyes automatically went to the wall thermostat, but he paused when he saw its blank face. His gaze then shifted to the DVD player on the television, but it, too, was dark. By now, Bert was pretty sure what was wrong, but he couldn’t resist flicking the light switch in the hallway, just to be certain. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened. It wasn’t just the heat that was out—it was the power itself.

“Great,” he muttered, annoyed, and hurried to the bedroom. The cabin was cold and likely to get colder until the power was restored, which meant he was wasting precious body heat standing around barefoot in his flannels. He needed to get dressed quickly, pull on his outerwear, and find somewhere warm where he could call Nick and find out whom to contact about the power.

His suitcase sat on a chair in the corner of the bedroom. Bert opened it, grabbed the thickest pair of socks he’d packed, and then took a second pair for good measure. He started to turn away, intending to sit on the bed to pull them on, but paused as his gaze drifted to the window.

Outside, the blizzard was in full force, filling the air with an icy wind that howled through the trees and blanketed everything in swirling, blinding snow. The cottage windows rattled, and snowflakes the size of quarters whipped against the glass, coating it in frost and blurring the world beyond. Bert could barely see past the few trees close to the house, now half-buried in snowdrifts.

“Damn,” he muttered, and turned back to the task at hand, mentally revising what needed to be done.

Unfortunately, the power must have cut off shortly after he’d plugged in his phone, because the battery was now lower than it had been before. The battery warning was all he could see before it shut down completely.

He pulled on his thick thermal long-sleeve shirt, then layered an old flannel over it. Next, he grabbed his heaviest winter coat, worn from years of use but as dependable as ever. Bert wrapped a woolen scarf around his neck and tugged on a fur-lined hat, pulling it snugly over his ears. Thick, waterproof gloves followed, and he stomped his feet into a sturdy pair of leather boots.