Cabin Fever – Tessa Vidal

“Fine,” I said. “One sip. But if I die from fermented ginger, I’m haunting you.” “Deal.” We made our way through the store, Liza loading the cart with an alarming array of California wellness products while I grabbed the basics—coffee, bread, cheese, vegetables that didn’t require a de- gree in holistic nutrition to prepare. She kept up a running commentary about everything we passed. The overpriced grain-free crackers (“They’re made from cassava!

It’s a tuber, Cathy!”). The selection of nut butters (“Almond butter is so 2019. Cashew butter is where it’s at”). The alarming variety of non- dairy milks (“Oat milk is superior to all other milks, and I will die on this hill”). I found myself smiling more than I had in a month. Maybe longer. We rounded the corner into the pet supply aisle, and both of us stopped dead. Cat food. Rows and rows of it. Dry food, wet food, grain-free, or- ganic, freeze-dried, suspiciously gourmet options that cost more per ounce than my own groceries.

Liza looked at the display. Then at me. Then, very deliberately, started to push the cart past it. “Wait,” I said. She stopped. “We were told not to feed her.” “I know.” “Gladys was very specific.” “She was.” I picked up a bag of premium grain-free kibble. Salmon and sweet potato. The reviews on the label claimed it pro- moted a healthy coat shine. “But it’s February. And cold. And she’s been spending a lot of time with me.” “She’s been hanging out with me too.” Liza studied the bag in my hands.

“That’s probably a good brand.” “You know about cat food?” “I had a cat growing up. Princess Fluffington. Very dignified. Hated everyone except my mom.” She paused. “We should get the wet food too. For variety.” Something about the way she said it—casual, practical, like we hadn’t just agreed to jointly violate Gladys’s explicit instructions— made my chest tight. This was just neighborly cooperation. Two peo- ple making sure a stray cat didn’t starve during a mountain winter.

It meant nothing. “Right,” I said. “For variety.” We loaded the cart in silence—kibble, wet food, even a small bag of treats that Liza insisted were “good for dental health.”

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This s a work of fiction and any similarities with actual people, settings, or events is a coincidence. 1kitap1.com/en For Kitty Carpenter- the best cat in the entire world. 1kitap1.com/en Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Epilogue About the Author Also by Tessa Vidal 1kitap1.com/en T Chapter One Cathy he release party for Savannah Flores’s Flowering Hearts of Desire was everything a bestselling romance author deserved: cham- pagne towers that caught the light like liquid gold, a string quartet playing in the corner of the Tribeca loft, and enough floral arrangements to make a funeral director weep with envy.

White ros- es and peonies cascaded from every available surface, their scent mixing with expensive perfume and the sharp tang of success. I stood near the entrance with my clipboard—yes, an actual clip- board, because my phone had died twenty minutes ago and I was nothing if not prepared—and checked off arrivals against my metic- ulously organized guest list. Agents: 15/18 confirmed.

Publishers (competing houses, invited out of professional courtesy): 4/6 confirmed. BookTok influencers (Savannah’s request, not mine): 8/10 confirmed. Celebrities who’d posted about the book: 2/3 confirmed. Everything was going according to plan, which should have made me happy. Instead, I felt the familiar tightness in my chest that came from orchestrating someone else’s perfect moment while my own life was a meticulously organized disaster. “Cathy!” Savannah swept toward me in a floor-length pink gown that matched her book cover, her dark hair piled in an artful updo, diamonds glittering at her throat.

She looked like a goddess, which was fitting considering she’d just hit number one on the New York Times list for the third time. “This is amazing. How do you always make everything so perfect?” “It’s a gift,” I said, forcing a smile. “And a curse. Mostly a curse.” She laughed and squeezed my arm, her eyes scanning the room. “Is that Reese Witherspoon’s book club coordinator over there?”

“Yes. She’s been here for ten minutes. I seated her near the cham- pagne fountain and made sure she had first access to the advanced reader copies.” “You’re a miracle worker.”

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 33881a83142712c8
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 2,229,651 bytes (2.126 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 187
• Language: English (en)

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• Estimated Reading Time: 274.12 minutes
• Total Words: 54,824
• Total Characters: 316,633
• Average Words per Page: 293.18
• Average Characters per Page: 1693.22

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