But of course, he doesn’t hear me and doesn’t stop. I exhale in frustration. I always prioritize being a good tipper. It only takes a few instances of clawing someone’s used tissue out of the bottom of a Collins glass, or being tipped zero percent by a table of twelve even though you gave them your most charming personality, to appreciate everyone who works in service. I hate the idea that he probably thought I was stiffing him. But then I wonder if tipping is even a thing here. I’ll have to look it up.

I stare at the house as the sound of the cab engine grows quieter and quieter, still standing there when it vanishes completely, reveling in the absolute silence.

I go through the wooden gate, up the path, and to the front door. The Airbnb information said the key was in a lockbox in the firewood box. I look around to find it. I do, and then put in the passcode sent to me in the app: 0619. I don’t even have to double-check my texts, as that happens to be a number I remember.

The trap opens and I take out a tarnished brass key, then open the front door with it.

The house smells like vetiver and sandalwood, which is exactly my favorite combination. I’ve bought dozens of perfumes because I loved the scent and then found that the scent notes include those two things. Aka, I’ve bought the same perfumes over and over again.

I roll my suitcase inside and soak up the feel of these new surroundings. It’s like being transported into a Nancy Meyers movie. How can a place be this cute and not be curated by set designers? And be available?

The stone fireplace is smaller in person, the way things in real life almost always are, and there’s a pile of wood in an iron cradle beside one of those hanging racks for fireplace tools like a poker, tongs, and a little broom. There’s got to be a name for every one of those things that I don’t know, but despite the few weekends I’ve spent in Big Bear, I hardly know cabincore jargon.

I mean, the fireplace at Grayson’s turns on with a remote and may as well be the Yule Log channel.

I run my hand along the couch and feel its soft, well-worn fabric and plush upholstery. There are two blankets thrown over the back, and the cushions are wide and deep and seem as though they could swallow you whole. The living room couch at Grayson’s is an ivory-white leather sectional that’s really more of an art piece with cushions; it’s as hard as a horse saddle.