Daniel hefted the key in his palm. Hesitantly, he said, ‘I didn’t notice the coffee shop.’
The man looked up blankly. ‘Coffee shop?’
‘I mean, I just assumed – the sign down the road said food.’
The man tilted his head. ‘You hungry?’
‘A little.’
‘Got some jerky and half a loaf of pumpernickel bread in the house. I’ll bring it over as soon as I get the keys put away.’
‘Don’t bother yourself, really – I have some stuff in the truck.’
‘No bother. I’ll bring it over in a bit. You go ahead and get started on your rest.’
‘Thanks,’ Daniel said. He felt he should go, but stood there watching the man return the various items to the cup. ‘I’ve been told my curiosity often lapses into rudeness, but I can’t help asking how you can tell which key to select.’
The man dropped the last seed into the cup and rose to his feet, facing Daniel. ‘I don’t know how I do it. Kept trying, and after a while got a feel for it, I guess.’
‘Uh-huh,’ Daniel said, ‘I see. So it’s intuitive, right? I mean, there’s no method.’
‘No, no particular method. But there are traditions.’
Daniel plunged to the point: ‘Well, what exactly do you
The man cocked his head, sunlight catching his high, strong cheekbones. ‘What do I feel? I feel which key fits the guest.’
‘Ah ha,’ Daniel said, realizing no secrets were going to escape the tautology of the obvious, ‘sure – that makes sense. Thank you for indulging my curiosity.’
The man shrugged. ‘I don’t mind.’
Daniel parked behind the cabin. As he came around to the front – there didn’t seem to be a back door – he saw the swimming pool set in the center of the encircling cabins. It appeared to be about six feet wide, and sloped dramatically from three feet deep to nine. There was no water in the pool. Weeds flourished in the long cracks where the cement had buckled and slipped.
The cabin wasn’t locked. The interior, though sparely furnished, seemed even smaller than the outside suggested. But it had four large windows and it was clean. A wood heater dominated the center of the room. The squat lines of the iron bedframe were softened by the sheen of its polyester cover. Half a cord of wood was stacked along one wall, and on the opposite side was a formica table with two straight-back chairs. A TV, a fat seventeen- inch Philco from the mid-sixties, occupied most of the tabletop, its rabbit-ears antenna giving it an odd sense of alertness. Daniel assumed the single door led to the bathroom, but found only a toilet and washbasin behind it. He pissed, then washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face. He soon discovered there were no towels.
Moderately annoyed, Daniel – face still dripping – was standing in front of the TV waiting for it to come on when the manager said from the open front door, ‘It’s not plugged in.’
‘Oh,’ Daniel said.
The man set plastic-wrapped jerky and slices of pumpernickel on top of the TV. ‘Actually,’ he said, looking at the screen, ‘it wouldn’t matter if it was plugged in, because we don’t have electricity. And if we did, they would probably turn it off after a couple of months and send some righteous, brutal men around to collect money. I don’t like to do business with such people. Their hearts are no bigger than mouse shit.’
‘Speaking of business practices, it seems to me that your sign out on the highway is sort of misleading.’
‘Maybe. We do have cabins, food, pool, and TV, but sometimes not all at once. Besides, did I ask you for money?’
‘No, you didn’t,’ Daniel acknowledged, surprised.
‘We don’t charge. It’s shameful to accept money from guests.’
Daniel didn’t know what to do with that information, so he said, ‘Why don’t you put
‘Because nobody would be surprised when they got here.’
Daniel stared at him, then shook his head. ‘I’m sorry – I seem to be having comprehension difficulties. What’s your name? If I’m your guest, I should know who to thank for this hospitality.’
‘Wally Moon.’
‘Mine’s Daniel Pearse,’ Daniel told him, ignoring his cover. ‘If it’s not too personal, Wally, could I ask your nationality?’
‘My mother, Lao-Shi, was Chinese; my father was a full-blood Apache named Burning Moon.’
‘And may I ask why this place is called Two Moons? Did you have a vision?’
‘No, I took up with a woman. She is part Apache and part Seminole and some Cajun. She is not a relative, but her name is also Moon. It’s a common name.’
‘So: Two Moons.’
‘My wife likes it. Her name is Annie. She’s not here right now because she’s menstruating. She goes off to the mountains then. She doesn’t like being around me when she’s menstruating. Says I screw up the reception. Women are all a little strange, but Annie is really something. I love her.’
Daniel felt his face distort as he fought back tears. When he tried to speak his voice cracked so badly there was no point in trying to hide. He quit fighting.
