The house just northeast of Forks proper is very big, quite abandoned, and really easy to just walk right in if you're of a mind to. There are signs that people have been camping in it while hiking, but currently it is unoccupied by visitors, squatters, or any animals larger than a squirrel. There's been a fair amount of furniture but fewer small possessions left behind: couch, piano, dining table, wardrobe, armchair, kingsized bed. It's in extremely variable states of repair.
"Whoo," says Bella, totaling up their points for this series of rounds. "Squeaked over fifty points."
Eventually Bella leads Elizabeth back to her house for a fish dinner.
"Fish is like the only thing he can cook," Bella mentions before letting them into the house.
The house smells like fish, and garlic, and lemon.
In a shocking twist, fish tastes like fish, and garlic, and lemon.
But presumably, before Elizabeth finds that part out for sure, she's going to be introduced to the person who caused it to be so!
Elizabeth is presented with trout. Lemony garlicky fishy trout, crispy around the edges from the frying pan.
"I still don't understand why you can do fish but not - grilled cheese or spaghetti or something," giggles Bella.
Bella does too. "But - but why would that even make a difference, it's still the same thing, couldn't you make grocery store fish too?"
"There's always a reason for the spaghetti. You don't stir it or you don't get it all the way underwater or you let it boil over or you overcook it or you undercook it."
"He pulls it out of the river himself, that's clearly got something to do with it."
"Maybe sometime when he goes out fishing, we should sneak upriver with a bunch of packages of spaghetti and little tiny rafts to put them on," she suggests.