A dim, yellow bulb lit the outside door to each room, and David peered at the numbers as he strolled down the walk. The markings had been burned into the wood, and were faded and cracked with age. Creepy, he thought, turning up his collar against the cold. It’s like the Bates Motel out here. The snow crunched beneath his shoes, and as he neared the end of the short walkway, he had a feeling he could just keep on walking, right off the end of the world, into the darkness beyond. That’s why they call it the great outdoors, he thought, turning back towards the comforting, familiar image of the car. No end in sight.

He was still standing there when Jessie came running out of the office, yelling, “Daddy, Daddy!” at the top of her little lungs.

“She found the gumball machine,” Helen explained, laughing.

“Can I have a piece of gum, Daddy?” Jessie looked up at him with her big, brown eyes and suddenly David could almost hear her thoughts. I know what you’re gonna say Daddy you’re gonna say yes and then he was saying it.

“Sure, honey. Go bug your momma for the money.”

She ran over to Helen, and David was left with that peculiar feeling. But of course she knew I’d say yes, why wouldn’t I? It was the end of the day’s drive, after all, and he almost always got her something at the end of long trips. Stop being so goddamned jumpy.

They had checked into a small room with two twin beds, and an even smaller bathroom that harbored a yellow washbasin and a tub with a deep copper rust stain under the faucet. A half hour later they were more or less settled in for the night, and Jessie was in the bathtub.

“How long will we be living out of hotels, do you think?” Helen asked. She was unpacking her pretty blue robe, her back turned to him.

“I don’t have a clue. I’m going to look at the house as soon as we get there, so maybe we can move in after a couple of days.” David sat at the motel room desk, an old, shaky-looking thing. The summary file and the application for license for the Jackson Pumped Storage Project sat on the desktop in front of him, weighty and intimidating. He had picked them up that morning from a secretary in Olmstead’s office.

Helen found the robe and snapped the suitcase shut. “I’d like to see the house too.”

“I know, honey, but it’s in the opposite direction from this damn meeting, and I’ve got no idea when that’ll end. You don’t want to sit around the lobby with Jessie for three hours. I’ll tell you every detail about the place, okay? And you’ll see it in a few days. You can decide if you like it then.”