Chapter Five

Van

Shopping in the small town near the cabin was anything but exciting. I’d learned early on that many items I was used to having on hand could only be ordered online—and there was no two-hour delivery to my house. In fact, no delivery service at all. Not even the post office braved the narrow road, and one of my first acts upon moving in was setting up a post office box. Of course, that meant driving into town any time I wanted to pick up a package or get my mail. But I had gradually learned that maybe things I’d have sworn were needs were no more than wants.

The best way to be part of this community was to buy local where possible, and if that meant fish sticks instead of caviar, so be it. To be fair, the lake in front of the cabin was full of trout and bass for the catching, but my attempts at harvesting this bounty so far had been a big fat fail.

On this particular day, I had headed into town in search of a new pair of hiking boots. A store at one end of the main street sold equipment for the outdoor enthusiasts who came to enjoy the beautiful mountains and lakes of this area, and at the end of the season, they had a huge sale. Now, I had no major need for a great deal, but the grocer had shared the information with me, and it was the first time I’d been included as a “local.”

I had been living here under my birth name, and so far as I was aware, nobody knew me as anyone different. It was kind of sweet, and as I walked into the store, I ran into several people I’d met here and there. They had some very good quality shoes, and the proprietor’s enthusiasm had me there for over an hour trying on footwear and warm outerwear as well. Traveling with the band, I spent very little time outside in cold weather, and I needed to upgrade for the mountain winters.

My ancient home had also had some major upgrades. I’d installed a gorgeous limestone Scandinavian woodstove but also had central heating now. Solar panels marched up the slope behind the house, and a generator for backup stood beside it. I loved being in the woods, but I’d worked long and hard and could afford the comforts of life.

“How about this?” Jan held up a sheepskin jacket. “It will keep you warm through anything our weather is likely to throw at you.”

“Sold.”

He added it to the heap of clothing on the counter. “Anything else?”

“Let’s see, flannels, lined jeans, socks…” There was more than that. “Not unless you think of something.”

“Looks good to me. I don’t want to oversell you, but it does get cold.”

And I could shift and curl up on the floor in my wolf form, warmer and cozier than anything my two-legged side could ever don. But I didn’t know Jan well enough to share that information. Yet. “I appreciate your advice and the discount.” Waiting until he finished tallying it up, I handed him a credit card, glad I’d thought to get one in my birth name. Technically I was still that guy, having resisted my manager’s demands that I change my name legally, but Van was a legal entity due to the magic of an EIN—employer ID number—and some other documentations. In fact, he was a corporation, which the US Supreme Court a few years back declared made the entity a person in many respects. Or so my attorney informed me when I asked him if I needed to make a legal change.

The way I’d gone meant I could live essentially a double life, although it had been a very long time before I lived this one. Driving home after picking up a few groceries and my mail, I chastised myself as to why I never was entirely happy when my dreams became reality. As a young child and teen, I fantasized about being a performer, and the success of our band surpassed my wildest imaginings. Should have been perfect, right? But no matter how much I loved singing and playing for stadiums and arenas filled with screaming fans, it was never quite enough. Oh, not that I wanted more money or fame. But something…

Then I came up with the idea of the cabin. Where I could spend downtime incognito. Fix it up with my own two hands and learn to enjoy nature more. My wolf was for sure all in. But as I drove up to the front of my home, late-afternoon sunlight glinted off the windows, and it also surpassed my dreams for it—albeit most of the work to get it here was done by others whose skill set matched what needed to be done—I was still dissatisfied.

I was missing something…

It took a few trips to get everything inside, but once I did, I flopped on the custom wood-framed sofa to go through my mail. Easing up a little on the don’t-contact-me thing had opened the floodgate to both snail and emails, but I didn’t mind too much. My ego was large enough that the idea of being forgotten entirely made me itchy. I had staff answering fan mails, but business did go on, and having gone a bit without making all the decisions myself precluded complete relaxation. At least the migraines had almost disappeared.

Maybe I needed to talk to someone because peace of mind lurked just out of reach.

Most of the mail was either business related or junk, but at the very bottom of the stack lay a blue envelope addressed to my non-star name. I almost tossed it, but it was hand addressed in calligraphy and sealed with wax, and no advertiser could afford that, or if they did, they’d earned two seconds of my time to open it up.

Dear Eddie,

Please accept this invitation to visit the Bearclaw Inn this weekend. There will be no cost, and I believe you will enjoy your time at our inn.

Sincerely,

Franklin