It was true. Sydney and I hadn’t had anything even remotely close to this kind of freedom in a long time, and even if we were stuck in the middle of the United States instead of some tropical island, the options before us suddenly seemed limitless. After mulling over some internet maps, we finally made our way to Council Bluffs, Iowa. It didn’t exactly scream excitement, but that was kind of the point. Most importantly, it was far away from the Alchemists in St. Louis and even farther from Palm Springs, where Alicia was hoping Sydney would show up. We debated checking into a large chain hotel and finally settled on a small country inn just outside the town. We pulled up to it late in the morning and were greeted by a sign proclaiming, WELCOME TO THE BLACK SQUIRREL LODGE.

“Oh no,” groaned Sydney. “Please don’t let this be like that place in Los Angeles. I don’t know if I can handle a room full of squirrel decor.”

I grinned, thinking back to the time Sydney and I had investigated another bed-and-breakfast that had taken rabbits to an unprecedented height in tacky decorating. “Hey, come on, after everything else we’ve been through, that’d be the least of our worries.”

But when we stepped inside, we were pleasantly surprised to see everything was actually pretty tastefully decorated in neutral colors and modern decor. No quilts with squirrels on them or squirrel-shaped wicker sculptures in sight. The innkeeper, though surprised to see guests this early in the day, was happy to welcome us and get us into a room.

“What’s with the inn’s name?” I asked as I paid for the room.

The innkeeper, a kindly middle-aged woman, beamed. “Oh, that’s in honor of Cashew.”

“Cashew?” asked Sydney.

The innkeeper nodded. “Our resident black squirrel. I’d call him our pet . . . but, well, he’s so much more than that.”

I peered farther into the lobby. “Does he have a cage here or something?”

“Oh, no,” she said. “That’d be cruel. Also illegal. He’s . . .” She shrugged and gestured vaguely with her hand. “Well, he’s around somewhere.”

“What do you mean ‘around’?” asked Sydney uneasily. “Like, outside?”

“Oh, no,” said the innkeeper. “Poor thing wouldn’t know what to do out there.”

Sydney’s eyes widened. “Wait. If he’s not outside, then does that mean—”

“Let’s get you two into your room,” said the innkeeper sunnily. “I’ve got your key right here.”