I drove six hours to check into my new luxury resort, only for the front desk clerk to toss a keycard at my feet.

lining the entrance. I caught the slight hesitation in his expression, that brief pause as he tried to reconcile the car with the setting.

I rolled down the window. The air smelled of crushed cedar and salt.

“Good afternoon,” I said, handing him the key fob. “Checking in. Martin.”

He quickly recovered his professional mask. “Welcome to Monarch Point, continue reading …