by Gigi Blume
“Stella. It’s me Georgia. Listen, my plane was snowed in and I need to get ahold of Wi—“ I stopped myself from using my brother’s real name. “Billy. Trying to get ahold of my brother Billy. Long story, my phone broke. I’m calling from a friend’s phone.” I noticed Wyatt’s lip twitch just then. “Give...Billy this number please.” I rattled off Wyatt’s number with his help and hung up, just a little despondent. What were the chances Stella would go into the theatre a few days before Christmas? They had a Holiday Show but she didn’t need to be there for that. I handed the phone back.
“Anyone...else you’d like to try?” asked Wyatt.
“Nope.”
He shrugged and set his phone next to his plate. “So, I was thinking. We should chart a course the rest of the way to LA. Find the route with the least snow.”
“What are you talking about? We only need to get to an airport. Preferably one with a working runway.”
Wyatt stilled. Apparently that idea never crossed his mind. “Oh. I...I don’t have enough for another plane ticket.”
“Didn’t you get your travel voucher? The airline owes us.”
“Uh, no. I ran straight to the car rentals.”
This guy. Seriously.
“Well, I’m sure your name is on a list. Just show your I.D.” I took a bite of my club sandwich. “This needs avocado.”
Wyatt nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. I’m just going to go check on Reeses.” He slid out of the booth taking a piece of bacon with him. The restaurant manager let us keep the dog tied up in the vestibule. Wyatt had set his coat on a bench and Reeses made himself comfortable, only perking up for some belly rubs every time a customer walked in.
The waitress came by to refill my water. “What’s your dog’s name?”
He wasn’t my dog, but I didn’t feel like correcting her. “Reeses.”
“Awww. That’s cute. Like a sweet little peanut butter cup. Did you name him or did your boyfriend?”
“Boyfriend?”
Her gaze flickered to my fake diamond ring. “Sorry. Husband.” She tossed her head around to look at Wyatt. “I sure wish I had a fella that had eyes for me the way that man looks at you. He ain’t goin’ nowhere, darlin’. It’s written on his face plain as day. You’re one lucky gal.” She winked and fluttered away. She was cute but her unsolicited advice was way off. Did I look like I cared if my man went anywhere? Not that Wyatt was my man or anything.
He returned with a bright smile, that dimple making another appearance amid his afternoon scruff.
Written on his face, huh? Balderdash.
We ate in silence for some time, stealing food off one another’s plates. That diner really rocked those onion rings. Wyatt checked his phone every few minutes to see if the mechanic had called. It was getting late and once the sun set, the roads would get icier. But I had to get to L.A. even if that meant taking a red-eye.
After a while I excused myself to the single-stall restroom. I looked into the mirror while washing my hands, the words of that waitress repeating in my mind. The way that man looks at you. Was my face telling a story just because I thought my road trip companion was kinda handsome? Did I notice the defined biceps peeking out of his t-shirt sleeve? Or the dusting of dark hair along his rugged forearms? Or those thick, calloused fingertips?
Maybe.
For a split second, right after he caught me, there was a spark. Just a teeny tiny ember. Probably brought on by the position we found ourselves in, and partly because he sort of saved me. In that minuscule moment, a thousand thoughts ran through my head. That maybe I wasn’t as damaged as before. That I didn’t have to live my life in fear. That I could trust again.
But then the rental car took a nosedive and I decided trust was overrated.
“Get over yourself, Georgie,” I told my reflection. “It’s just the onion rings talking.”
I tapped my toe and sang along to the Christmas music piped into the bathroom. It was the instrumental version of Sleigh Bells but I considered it my own personal orchestra as I combed my fingers through my hair to build up courage to get out there and act casual in front of Wyatt.
Giddyup let’s go.
Fueled with confidence, I reached for the doorknob and turned the lock. The door didn’t budge. Had I forgotten to lock it that whole time only to just lock it now? I switched it back. The knob didn’t turn this time. Back again. The knob turned but the door wouldn’t open. I pulled and jiggled and pulled some more. Nothing.
I scanned the whole door. Maybe there was a latch somewhere? Nope no latch. That’s when panic set in. I could be stuck in this bathroom indefinitely. I pounded the door and cried out. “Help. I can’t get out.” This was a new low for me. More pounding. “Hello? Anybody?”
It was no use. The ladies room was at the end of a long hallway and there was no way anybody could hear me over the jolly holiday music. It was The Nightmare Before Christmas toilet edition. Who knew what magical land that door would lead to next? Was the Oogie Boogie Man on the other side?
I didn’t let up, pounding and calling out relentlessly. Surely someone would come along eventually. I noticed several other women in the diner. At least one of them would have to pee soon.
Several minutes passed. It could have been three. It could have been twenty. Hard to tell. I’d almost given up, my forehead pressed against the door, only a feeble wish holding me there.
A tap tap tap jolted me. “Honey, are you in there?” It was the waitress. A jiggle of the doorknob.
“Yes!” I cried. Jubilate Deo. “I’m stuck in here.”
“Don’t you worry, darlin’. This happens all the time.”
All the time? Then why wasn’t there a warning on the door or something?
“You see that big piece of wood in the corner there?”
I turned. A beveled plank rested against the wall behind the sink.
“Yeah.”
“Wedge that under the door.”
I followed her instructions.
“Now kick it in until it lifts the door an inch or two.”
I kicked that sucker.
“Now what?”
“Stand outta the way.”
Next thing I know, the door’s flying open. The waitress grinned at me and slapped her hip.
“Strongest part of my body,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“No worries. Most folks around here know how to deal with that ol’ door. When I saw your hubby sittin’ all by his lonesome for a long time, I figured where you’d gone off to.”
How very observant. I made a mental note to leave a huge tip.
“Why doesn’t the owner just fix the door?”
She shrugged one shoulder as we moved down the hallway. “Just one of many things to fix around here, I guess.”
I followed her into the dining area and thanked her again as she forked in the opposite direction. When I reached my booth, Wyatt was on the phone, talking animatedly with his hands and smiling like a goon. I wondered who he was talking to. A girlfriend? Maybe he followed his own advice and called his mom. I sank onto the cushion. Did he even notice I’d been gone?
Wyatt laughed. “Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. All our luggage was in the trunk. Small miracles.”
A pause while the person on the other end asked a question.
“Well, I hope the guy can fix it. I don’t know about mechanical stuff.”
He nodded, listening in the phone.
“You got it, man. Anyway, Georgia just sat down so I’m going to pass the phone to her, but it was cool chatting with you, Billy. I’ll make sure she gets home safely. Okay. Bye.”
Wyatt passed the phone. What on earth?
“Hello?”
“Who the heck is that bozo?” Will barked on the other end. “He wouldn’t shut up. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“He sounded a whole lotta crazy. You’re in Iowa?”
“I think this is Nebraska. But yeah. It’s been crazy
.” I glanced at Wyatt. He had his eyes on the dessert menu card.
“You just stay put. I’m coming to get you.” There was urgency in Will’s voice.
“No way. I’m fine. You get ready for your big day. I’ll be there soon.”
“I don’t like the idea of you traveling with that guy. You don’t even know him, George.”
“It’s just until we reach a major airport. Don’t get all action hero on me. I’m a big girl.”
He sighed heavily. “You sound like Beth.”
“That’s why you love us both so much. Text me Bing’s number and I’ll call him when I have an ETA.”
Bing was my brother’s best man. He and his girlfriend Jane lived in Manhattan, not too far from me. Both of them had awesome Broadway gigs but were already in California for the wedding.
“You should have flown out with Bing and Jane a week ago.”
“You know why I couldn’t do that.”
He was silent for a long moment. Probably conjuring up all sorts of scenarios. I knew he was only trying to protect me. But he was getting married and he had his wife to think of now.
“I’ll check in with you every few hours. Will that make you feel better?”
“No. I want a tracking device on that man.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Bye.”
Will grunted. I took that as goodbye and ended the call. Wyatt looked up from the dessert menu completely oblivious.
“Billy seems like a nice guy.”
Yeah. If you only knew what he thought about you, pal.
6
Wyatt
As I stood in Al’s Auto Repair, watching Georgia’s face become increasingly redder, I scolded myself for not paying closer attention to what the mechanic said when he towed the car. Georgia’s chin dimpled under the pressure of her clenched jaw and her cute little booted foot tapped impatiently as Al explained why he couldn’t do any repairs.
“I don’t understand. You said these things could sometimes be fixed.”
“The operative word there is sometimes,” said Al. “But even if I drain the intake manifold and the combustion chamber, I’d still need to disconnect the fuel injectors and crank the engine over. Maybe then the starter would have enough torque to fling all the standing water from the spark plugs. Then, if the water reached the axle differential...” He scratched his chin, thinking about the various scenarios. It was Greek to me. I should have paid closer attention in my high school shop class instead of daydreaming about poetry.
As Al continued to talk, and boy could that guy talk, I realized why Georgia and I tuned him out earlier. His jargon went right over her head and I was too distracted by her pink cheeks and spunky mannerisms. She may not have gotten everything he said, but she perched her eyebrows high and nodded as if to say, “Make it so.” Jean Luc Picard style.
That’s when we left for the diner.
Georgia was cute as a button but she was a spitfire when she let herself get all riled up. Something stirred in me that wasn’t all that unpleasant. I could tell by the way her fists clenched while Al rattled on—there was a tempest brewing in that pint-sized figure of hers and one way or another, she’d find a way to land the blame on me.
I swallowed that down with a hard lump in my throat. No matter how pretty, that girl was spoilt. Poor little rich girl accustomed to getting her way. I’d been there, done that, thank you very much. And got my heart stomped on.
Besides—Georgia had a huge rock on her finger. Some lucky son of a monkey would miss her tonight.
“And even if I can get the thing to start, it’s still a rental and has to go back to...” he glanced at the license plate frame, reading, “Cheap and Cheerful Car Rental. Sorry. Those are the rules.”
Georgia threw me a pointed look, like I was supposed to do something manly. To somehow convince this guy to fix our rental car. I cleared my throat and straightened to make myself appear taller.
“So what you’re saying here is—under the right circumstances, the car is fixable,” I said with my best Robert De Niro stare.
“In theory, yeah.”
“And with a little incentive, you might be convinced to, ya know, help us out?” I winked for good measure. I was talking big. It felt kinda cool. I didn’t have money to bribe the guy or anything. Pesky details.
Al crossed his arms and studied Georgia and me. She might have been batting her eyes or giving him the pout. A trick right out of Reeses’ playbook.
Al rolled his tongue around in his cheek—the wheels turning in that head of his. He held all the cards. Mechanics always do. The tension was so high I felt like a contestant on a game show.
After some thought, he finally said, “I’ll help you out.”
Georgia let out a heavy sigh. She’d been holding her breath that whole time. “Thank you so so so so much.”
Al held up a finger.
“I’ll let you two stay the night here in my shop and in the morning I’ll drive you to the bus station.”
“Wait. What?” Georgia cried. “The bus station? Why?”
“Cause I imagine you’ll need another car,” he countered. “And there ain’t no Cheap and Cheerful Car Rental or any car rental in this town. You’ll have to take the bus to the next county.”
Georgia bristled, giving me the side eye like I hadn’t tried hard enough to convince this guy to break the rules.
“Can’t we go right now?” she blurted.
Al did that thing with his jaw—kind of a half-smirk tradesmen do when particularly annoyed.
“Listen. My youngest son has a Christmas pageant in ten minutes. He’s the Star of Bethlehem. He’s real excited. If I’m not there on time, my wife will serve my head with the figgy pudding.” He looked at me just then and gave me a knowing nod. “You’ll understand in about five years, man.”
He shrugged on his winter coat. “There’s water and snacks in the fridge and help yourself to a jar of my wife’s gooseberry jam. It’s real good. See ya in the morning.”
Georgia touched his arm to stop him before he could leave. “Sir. Please.” Sir?
“Where are we supposed to sleep?”
Al inclined his head towards the office. “There’s a couch in the waiting area. I’ll keep the heat on for ya’ll.”
Georgia and I both stared at the door as the mechanic disappeared through it, clicking it shut. The clank echoed from the outer door as he bolted the lock. Georgia turned her death stare at me again. The same one she’d used when the car sank in the lake.
“I hate you.”
“Is this a new development? Or...” I grinned at her. Yeah, she was mad, but there was a playfulness to it. Plus, I loved that incandescent glow in her cheeks when she got all worked up.
She’s engaged, man. Hands off.
“Ya know,” I said in the most chipper way I could. “We’re lucky that guy came by with his tow truck when he did. We could still be out there in that roadside parking lot freezing our butts off. I’d say it’s a Christmas miracle.”
“A Christmas miracle? We’re spending the night in a greasy auto shop instead of a warm bed. How is this a Christmas miracle?” She waved her hand around at all the tools and equipment.
“Um...we’ll have a screwdriver if we need one.”
She rolled her eyes and went off to explore the back of the shop, the offices, and the bathroom. When she came back, the dent between her brows was decidedly more pronounced. “Have you seen that bathroom? The toilet seat is cracked. And the one couch in the office has some questionable stains.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not sleeping here.”
“Okay, okay. We’ll find a motel. But we need to be back here on time to catch a ride to the bus station.” I began a search on my phone. Hotels in... ”What town is this?”
“We don’t need to get a ride with Franz. Just order an Uber.” Things were so easy for this woman in her charmed life. Well I had news for her.
“I don’t think there’s Uber in this tiny town. And his name isn’t Franz.
”
I was able to pull up Maps on my phone. According to the GPS, the closest Motel was thirty miles away. Probably where the bus would take us the next morning. I searched for a bus schedule. It was non-existent. Plus it was dark and getting biting cold outside. No way was I going out there. I packed for California weather. And I had a feeling everything closed early in these parts.
Her features hardened. “Surely ‘Not Franz ’ could have directed us to the nearest hotel.” She used finger quotes. “Or maybe there’s an Air B&B close by.”
“It’s Al, and I’m pretty sure this auto shop is the closest we’re going to get to an Air B&B.” I handed her my phone. “Take a look.”
She snatched it from me and started tapping away. Her little tongue peeked out the corner of her mouth when she was concentrating on something. I’d noticed that earlier when she was examining the menu at the diner.
Heaven help me. This was going to be a long night.
7
Wyatt
I decided to do some exploring of my own. There really was a huge crack on the toilet seat—but guys don’t generally mind those things. The stain on the couch was a dark red. It looked like a homicide scene although it was probably only spilled punch or ketchup or something. Al did have small children after all. There was a photo in a picture frame on his desk. A simply dressed slender woman stared back at me with two boys on either side of her. One was about seven. The other couldn’t have been more than five. The little one must have been the son in the Christmas pageant. Both boys had mischievous expressions. But the woman had an easy smile. The sort of look on her face that showed she was in complete control of those two rug rats. And in her arms was a baby bundled in a pink blanket. Something pinged inside me. Al had everything right there in that photo. He was a blessed man.
When I returned to the shop I found Georgia in the driver’s seat of a vintage Mustang. It was in pristine condition—a robin egg blue with white trim. It was gorgeous and was even more perfect with a beautiful woman behind the wheel. Except Georgia’s eyes were puffy like she’d been crying and her adorable little nose was blemished with red splotches. When she noticed me approach her, she sucked in a hearty breath and put on a brave face. It was just a glimpse but I knew just then. She was a person who knew how to wear a mask. Underneath all that entitled Daddy’s Girl bologna was a mystery I intended to solve. Perhaps I had it in me to be an investigative reporter after all.
