What Are The Chances?. D. Graham R.

planning to go to U of T?”

      “Uh.” When I first received the acceptance letters from both schools, I had been leaning towards the University of British Columbia to stay close to everyone. But the University of Toronto offer also came with a scholarship, so the financial factors, combined with my reluctance to move in with my mom in Vancouver, pushed me to make an impulsive decision to move across the country. “I accepted the scholarship at U of T.” After a weird silence I added, “But since UBC accepted me, too, I can still transfer. I have until the end of July to withdraw from U of T if I decide not to take the scholarship.”

      He was quiet for a few seconds before he said, “Well, you should probably take the money, but if you decide to stay in Vancouver and go to UBC, you can live at your mom’s during the week and I’ll drive you up here on weekends.”

      Right. He hadn’t heard the news about the Inn yet. And saying it out loud made it real, which I had hoped to avoid for as long as possible. But he was going to find out eventually anyway, so I said, “The sale of the Inn went through last week. The new owners take over in September. Whichever school I choose I will have to move out of Britannia Beach.”

      “Oh.”

      I waited for him to say more because “oh” wasn’t enough of a reaction to tell how he felt about it.

      After another long silence he said, “I’ve gotta go, Deri. The training is starting. Is it all right if we talk later?”

      Talking about it probably wasn’t going to make it any easier, but I said, “Yeah. Okay.”

      He said goodbye. I sighed and hung up as thunder cracked outside and the rain pounded down harder. Scenes from my vision flashed through my mind again and I panicked when I realized it might have had something to do with Trevor training in the storm. My hands fumbled to call him back, but he didn’t answer.

       CHAPTER 2

      “Excuse me, miss. What is there to do in Britannia Beach when it’s raining?” a guest asked me as his two kids climbed on the antique chairs and rolled around on the wood lobby floor.

      I hesitated because the real answer for a family with two little kids was, not much, but obviously I wasn’t going to say that. My thumb tapped the send button on the text I wrote to Trevor. I told him about my vision and pleaded with him to be careful. He had witnessed my visions in the past and would definitely take the warning seriously, but I was worried he wouldn’t get the message in time. The man lifted his eyebrows, impatient for me to answer his question.

      “The old copper mine runs tours from the village.” I pointed over my shoulder in the general direction of the mine.

      “We did that yesterday.”

      “Okay, uh.” The area was known for outdoor activities like skiing, rock climbing, river rafting, mountain biking, and kite sailing. Even if it had been sunny and warm, none of those would have worked for a young family anyway. “If the rain lets up, you can go to the beach on the other side of the highway and explore the tidal pools along the shore to search for starfish and crabs. We also have hundreds of hiking trails up the mountain behind us. You won’t notice the rain that much when you’re under the canopy of the forest. The waterfalls you’ll pass and the views of Howe Sound and the Tantalus mountain range are worth the trek. I’ll find a map for you.” I crouched behind the front desk to get him some brochures. But then it hit me that they might be the subjects of my vision and sending them out into the wilderness might be a bad idea. “As you can see, there is a restaurant and a few souvenir shops here in Britannia Beach.” I pointed to the horseshoe of old buildings that lined the perimeter of our parking lot next to Trevor’s house, hoping maybe they’d be interested in a safe, quiet day close to the Inn.

      The guest peered out the window at the ocean on one side of the highway. Then he turned his head to look at the base of the mountain jammed right up behind our little old mining village. His forehead started to sweat as if he was getting claustrophobic or something.

      He wasn’t impressed, so I grasped for ideas. “There’s shopping, a bowling alley, and a movie theatre in Squamish. It’s a short drive north on the highway.”

      His face relaxed a little and he took in the information about Squamish. “Thanks,” he said, looking kind of like he wished they had chosen Mexico instead of the rugged Canadian wilderness as their summer vacation destination.

      There wasn’t anything I could do to prevent whatever bad thing was going to happen if I didn’t know what that thing was. Or where it happened. Or when it happened. Or who it happened to. I tried not to worry about the vision, although it wasn’t working that well. Once the majority of guests had either gotten in their cars or gone back to their rooms, I carried a tray of the breakfast leftovers down the hall to my granddad’s room. He was still sleeping. I opened the blinds, which didn’t make the room that much brighter since the sky was so thick with black clouds.

      “Good morning,” I said at a volume gentle enough not to startle him, but loud enough to hear without his hearing aids.

      He rolled over and patted down the few wispy white hairs left on the top of his head. “Oh dear. What time is it? Is the coffee brewing?” He got out of bed and put on a robe over his pyjamas.

      “Everything is taken care of,” I reassured him. “Everyone has already eaten and I’m finished the clean-up too.”

      “Oh Derian. Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” He hooked his glasses behind his ears and squinted at the clock, wondering why the alarm hadn’t gone off.

      “I turned your alarm off. You deserve a day to rest once in a while.” I laid out some clean clothes on his bed. “Taking it easy will prepare you for retirement.”

      “I can’t take today off. Alan and Paula are coming by this morning.”

      “The new owners?”

      “Yes. I’m supposed to give them an orientation today. They also want to come in and do shifts while we’re here so they can get the hang of how to run things.”

      “That’s a good idea.” It made me feel better to know they were eager to learn. Out of all the people who could have bought the Inn I was grateful it was a family who would retain its old charm and continue to run it the same way we always had.

      “They’re going to be a good fit. I can feel it,” he said.

      “I feel it too.” I rested my hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek as I reached over to steal a piece of toast and peanut butter off the tray. “But since we’re technically still on the clock until the end of the summer, I should get back to the front desk. Enjoy your breakfast.” I left his room and headed back to the lobby.

      Two more families who were desperate to entertain their kids during the storm took brochures on the attractions in Squamish. Growing up in an ancient rain forest, I was brought up with the attitude that there was no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing. But even I had to admit it was a particularly dreary day. Curling up next to the fireplace with a good book appealed to me.

      As I scanned the list of check-ins for the afternoon, three trucks, all black, pulled into the parking lot—one after the other in a convoy—a Hummer, a Mercedes G Class, and a Range Rover. I knew who they were and a jolt of excitement slammed through me when the driver of the Range Rover got out and crossed the parking lot towards the front door of the Inn.

      I ripped the elastic out of my ponytail and shook my head to make my hair fall straight over my shoulders and down my back. My reflection in the black computer screen reminded me that I still looked like I just rolled out of bed. At best. Oh well. Too late. The driver of the Range Rover, Mason Cartwright, stepped through the door into the lobby. He ran his hands through his wet caramel-brown hair and pushed it back off his forehead. He smiled. “Hi Derian.”

      “Hey.” Saying something more elaborate