by Karey White
“Flight 1758 from Charlotte to Denver has been delayed by thirty minutes. Again, flight one seven five eight from Charlotte to Denver has been delayed by thirty minutes. We apologize for any inconvenience. Please see the counter if you have any questions or if you have connecting flights in Denver. Thank you.”
Blake and Lydia looked at each other and laughed. “Wow. Glad she got that out before the thirty minute delay was over,” Blake said. “I guess I have time to go get myself a sandwich.”
“I’ll watch your bags,” Lydia said with a smile. She was surprised when Blake slid his briefcase and duffle bag a little closer to her feet.
“I should probably tell them to go light on the mayo, right?” he said.
“Good idea. And be sure they give you some napkins.”
Instinctively, Lydia started to pull out her book, but not wanting to be caught reading Love at Tenth Sight when Blake returned, she changed her mind and watched two children playing Uno on the floor.
“I hope you like brownies,” Blake said when he returned ten minutes later.
“I love brownies.”
“Good. I was afraid you might tell me you were allergic to chocolate.”
“Sometimes I wish that were true. Thank you. That was thoughtful of you.”
Blake ate his sandwich, and Lydia took a bite of the brownie. “Mmm. This is good. Would you like some of it?”
“Thanks. I’ve got one for myself in the bag,” he said.
“Attention passengers.” Thankfully it was a new voice, and this one spoke at a normal speed.
“Uh oh,” Blake said.
“Due to mechanical difficulties, flight 1758 from Charlotte to Denver has been cancelled. Please bring your tickets to the counter to reschedule. Again, flight One Seven Five Eight, from Charlotte to Denver, has been cancelled. Please bring your tickets to the counter to reschedule your flight.”
The world came alive around them. Snatches of conversations could be heard as people gathered their belongings.
“They’d better be giving us a free flight for this.”
“And how about some food vouchers. I’m starving.”
“I’d rather they cancel the flight than send us off in a faulty airplane.”
“I’m going to miss my connecting flight.”
“Well, that’s not very convenient,” Lydia said. “At least I have something to read.”
Blake laughed. “I think they have to make arrangements for us to get on a flight right away, even if it’s with another airline.”
Blake and Lydia stayed in their seats as the area around them cleared and a line formed. Finally, Blake stood, picked up his duffel bag and briefcase, then waited while Lydia gathered her things. They took a spot at the back of the line. After a minute, Lydia spoke.
“Since you have to change your flight anyway, maybe you should stay another day or two and try to find the box.”
The corner of Blake’s mouth twitched. “Maybe you should stay a couple of days and have an adventure.”
“Touché. I guess if the plane had gone down, I’d have had an adventure to tell about. Or not tell about.”
The line moved slowly. “You know,” Blake said. “Maybe your adventure could be staying and helping me find my grandfather’s box.”
Lydia nearly choked on her last bite of brownie. Was he joking? They didn’t even know each other.
“I have to be back for teacher’s meetings. And I need to get my classroom ready for school to start. The desks are all stacked up in a corner of the room and I need to get them set up and organized and I’ve got to put up a couple of bulletin boards. And I have to get papers for the parents copied for back to school night and…” Blake’s smile widened as she spoke. “And I’m babbling, aren’t I?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I should get back to the office anyway. It was a crazy idea.”
“Yeah,” Lydia said, relieved. A few minutes passed, and they neared the front of the line. A voice in Lydia’s head wouldn’t be quiet. You’re a coward. You don’t really want an adventure. You’re all talk. You could kill two birds with one stone. Have an adventure and help this guy find the box from his grandfather. But you’re too big of a wimp. She wanted to tell the voice to mind its own business, but it wouldn’t shut up. Chicken. Scaredy cat. But this wasn’t about adventure. This was about good, common sense, right? It wouldn’t be smart to stay with this man she didn’t know. And yet her instincts told her this guy was safe, that she didn’t need to fear his intentions.
It seemed the only way to stop the nag in her head was to speak. “It wasn’t a crazy idea. It was an adventurous idea. And I came here for adventure. I need something to tell Cambri when I get home, right? And you need to find that box or you’ll miss out on something important. And I don’t technically have to be back until Wednesday morning, so...”
“Really? Are you just talking a big game?” Blake teased.
“You’re not a psychopathic killer, are you?”
“No. But I certainly wouldn’t tell you if I was.”
“That’s true. That would really up the whole adventure factor, though.”
“See, you’re braver than you thought.”
“Do you really want to do this?” Lydia asked, not sure what she wanted his answer to be.
“I don’t know if I’ll make it back here any time soon, and it would be nice to feel like I gave it an extra effort.”
“Maybe this cancelled flight is a sign. But I really do have to be at work Wednesday morning.”
“So do I. If we fly home Tuesday, that gives us two days to find Gladys.”
“Oh help,” Lydia whispered, and Blake laughed, showing his dimple. That was all it took. When they reached the front of the line, Blake and Lydia changed their flights to the 8:10 departing flight on Tuesday evening.
What was he thinking? Blake didn’t have time for this. He’d been worried about work the entire time he’d been in North Carolina and now, on a whim, he’d nearly doubled the length of his trip.
Blake stood a little behind Lydia at the luggage carousel waiting for the bags she’d checked two hours earlier. He’d managed his short trip with only his duffle and briefcase, but Lydia had just spent three months in North Carolina. That, of course, required extra bags.
“There are two of them, and I tied a yellow polka-dot ribbon to the handles, so they’ll be easy to identify,” Lydia said over her shoulder.
Of course she had. She looked like a girl who’d have a drawer of crafty ribbons and construction paper. She probably crocheted booties for her friends’ new babies and delivered elaborately decorated cupcakes to new neighbors.
Blake fired off an email to his assistant, Brynn, telling her of his change of plans. He cringed as he thought of Brynn relaying the message to Pryce. Of course, Pryce would be unhappy with this development and would probably call Blake tomorrow to let him know exactly how this would impact his future.
Pryce Van Wagoner. Just three weeks ago, he’d sat across the chrome and glass desk that probably cost more than a year’s rent for Blake’s one bedroom apartment. Mr. Van Wagoner had looked dark and forbidding against the wall of windows that boasted a view of Denver’s business district. “You’re doing good work here, Blake.”
“Thank you, Mr. Van Wagoner.”
“You can call me Pryce.”
Blake nodded and wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. “I keep hearing your name. Phoebe and Brian are calling you a star, and Don says you’re going to end up being our youngest partner.”
“I appreciate that, sir. It’s definitely what I’m working toward.”
“I looked over your files for the Challis-Austin merger, and I’m very pleased. If this deal closes according to plan, it would be difficult for us to ignore you when we start the selection process.”
“And it should go well, sir. It’s on track, and I see no reason why it shouldn’t close by the middle of September. We all want to have everything in place before the final quarter.�
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“Good to hear.” Pryce had stepped around the desk and shaken Blake’s hand, adding a partnerly slap on the back. “Keep up the good work. I’m eager to watch you wrap up this deal.”
The luggage carousel started spitting out bags, and Blake took a step closer. He should have booked a seat on the next flight home. For two years, he’d put work before everything else. He’d missed family events. He hadn’t done anything with friends for months, and dating the past two years had been almost nonexistent. He couldn’t believe he’d just put his job on the back burner so he could traipse around North Carolina with a girl he didn’t know.
Of course he wanted to find his grandfather’s box, but Blake knew that wasn’t the only reason he’d jumped at this arrangement, and it baffled him. Sure, Lydia was cute, but she wasn’t the type of girl who turned every head in the room. She certainly wasn’t the kind of girl who would inspire a man to rearrange his career goals. But wasn’t that what he’d just done?
He looked at her closely. Lydia was very girl next door—blonde, blue-eyed and… what? Natural. She wore almost no makeup, her hair smelled like fruity shampoo, and there was a light in her eyes. Although Blake hadn’t dated much in the past two years, his former girlfriends had been more polished and put-together. They’d have marked their luggage with a chrome tag, not a polka-dot ribbon. Blake’s reaction to Lydia was surprising and even frustrating. He couldn’t be thinking about a cute girl who blushed easily when he needed to be concentrating on the upcoming merger.
Lydia glanced his way, and when she saw him looking at her, she smiled and blushed. She really was adorable. He forced his eyes back to the luggage carousel, and his mind to think about his job.
The Challis-Austin merger was a tricky one. Both sides wanted it to happen—Mary Challis needed it to happen—but they each wanted to feel like they were getting the best end of the deal. It would already have wrapped up if they hadn’t been dancing around the middle ground for weeks, tweaking the terms and adding stipulations. They were still on track for a mid-September close, but Blake didn’t like being so far away at this crucial time.
Why had Grandpa been so demanding? He’d known Blake’s goal and how hard he’d have to work to reach it. Grandpa had been a successful man. He’d climbed the ranks at Denver General from brand new doctor to Hospital Chief of Staff. He knew why Blake was so focused, and yet he’d insisted Blake hunt down some relic from the past. Stubborn old man.
As soon as that thought entered his mind, Blake was filled with guilt. Grandpa had loved him. Blake knew that. If Grandpa wanted him to retrieve this box, he must have felt it was important, so even though the timing stunk, Blake would do his best to find it.
And he’d do his best not to be distracted by Lydia or the smell of her hair. Or her cute clumsiness. Or the way her hand had felt on his arm.
Still, the timing could have been better.
“There’s one,” Lydia said and reached for the first bag with the bright ribbon.
“I’ll get it,” Blake said. He lifted the suitcase off the carousel and put it with their other bags. A few seconds later, another ribboned bag popped over the lip of the conveyor belt and slid with a thud to the wall. Blake lifted it off and extended the handle, pulling it along beside him.
“Should we make a plan?” Lydia asked. She sounded a little nervous, and Blake wondered if she regretted this act of spontaneity.
“We know we need a car, so let’s do that first.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Lydia said with a smile. Oh boy, she was cute. Blake was in trouble.
They rented a midsize sedan and left the airport behind them. Over an early dinner at a teal and chrome diner, they made a more formal plan.
“I went to the address my Grandpa had for Gladys,” Blake said, “but there was a young family living there. They bought the house six months ago, and they didn’t know Gladys. A lot can happen in a year.”
She drew her brows together as she took a drink of lemonade. “Did you check with the neighbors?”
“I knocked on the houses next door, but no one was home.”
“Sounds like we’d better go canvas the street she lived on.”
Blake smiled. “Canvas the street? You said you’re a teacher, right?”
“I teach fifth grade. And I’ve read every Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys book there is. Hurry and finish your fries, and let’s start sleuthing.”
They drove to a quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of Charlotte. Belmont Street was straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Trees lined the streets, their old, thick roots having their way with the sidewalks. The houses were small bungalows, built by sensible people who’d just survived the depression, nothing like the excessive houses in the suburbs with their equally bloated mortgages.
“That’s the one she lived in,” Blake said, pointing at a small yellow house with a tricycle in the front yard. “I knocked on both of those houses, but no one was home.”
They knocked again on the white house next door. A pimply teenage boy with no shirt answered the door.
“Sorry, man,” he said after Blake asked about Gladys. “I noticed she was gone, but I have no idea where she went.”
“Do you think your parents would know?” Lydia asked.
“There’s just my dad, but he’s at work. He’s working a double so he won’t be home until early tomorrow morning.”
They thanked him and walked to the gray house on the other side. The sidewalk to the door was lined with rose bushes. A chorus of yapping dogs answered their knock, but no one came to the door.
“Excuse me,” said a young woman from the front yard of the home that had belonged to Gladys. She held a diaper-clad baby. “Are you the one who was looking for Gladys Baker?”
“I am,” Blake said as he and Lydia walked back to meet her in the narrow driveway.
“After you left, I was talking to Beulah Edwards. She lives in that house right there.” She pointed at a brick house across the street and near the corner. “She said that she and Gladys knew each other and if you came back to send you her way.”
“Thank you,” Blake said and shook her hand. “I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. Good luck.”
Beulah’s doorbell was chimes playing “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” slightly off key, which didn’t fit with the sweltering heat and humidity of the August afternoon. “Maybe no one’s home,” Blake said after they’d waited more than a minute.
“I thought I heard something.” Lydia knocked and they waited a little longer.
Finally, an elderly woman opened the door and looked at them through the screen. “I hope you’re not selling anything.” She lifted her thick glasses from her eyes to her forehead and looked back and forth between Blake and Lydia. “See. It says no soliciting right there.” She pointed her elbow at a handwritten sign taped below the doorbell.
“We’re not selling anything,” Lydia said. “Are you Beulah?”
“I was last time I checked,” she said and chuckled at her joke.
Lydia smiled. “My name is Lydia, and this is Blake. We’re looking for Gladys Baker, and your neighbor said you might know where she lives now.”
“Of course I do. Gladys was my dear friend. We used to go walking together almost every day. How do you know her?”
“She and my grandfather were friends many years ago,” Blake said.
“Hmm. Well, come on in, and I’ll get you her address.” She pushed the screen door open. Blake held it for Lydia. After the bright, afternoon sun, it took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness of the house. The air was hot and stuffy. A muted television sat in the living room, an old episode of Jeopardy on the screen. “Go on now. Sit down,” Beulah said from the kitchen. “I’ve got the address in here somewhere. No need to stand there while I hunt it down.”
Blake and Lydia sat on the edge of a maroon floral sofa with doilies covering the arms. The room smelled faintly of burnt toast and Icy Hot. A cat appeared from und
er the couch and rubbed against Blake’s legs, circling his ankles over and over. He moved his legs, and the cat matched his moves, arching its back as it marked Blake as its territory.
“I think it likes you,” Lydia whispered and giggled.
In the kitchen, Beulah rummaged through drawers and cupboards, muttering to herself. Jeopardy went to a commercial and came back to the Double Jeopardy round, but still Beulah didn’t return. Blake scooted the cat away with his hand, but a minute later it was back. Alex Trebek was reading the last column of answers when Beulah finally shuffled into the room waving a piece of paper.
“I knew I had it in there.” She glanced at the television. “Blue blazes, what’s that hippy doin’ fixin’ to win? He doesn’t look smart enough to beat those others. That man in the middle is a college professor and that woman’s a lawyer. They shouldn’t be lettin’ some upstart beat them.” She turned back toward her guests on the sofa. “They oughta have a dress code or something on these shows, make people clean up and cut their hair or they can’t come on and play.”
Blake nodded, glad that his hair had been recently trimmed, and Lydia bit the sides of her mouth to keep from laughing. Beulah stood in front of her chair until the show went to a commercial then she carefully lowered herself into her rocking recliner. “You can bring Sajak to me if you don’t want him loving your leg,” she said.
Blake picked up the cat and handed him to Beulah. Sajak turned a circle on her lap before he snuggled in. “I knew I had this in there, I just couldn’t find it. I thought I put it in my little address book, but it wasn’t there, so I looked through the junk drawer and the bills on my table. Wouldn’t you know, I was right in the first place? It was in my little address book, but I stuck the darn thing under G for Gladys instead of B for Baker. I s’pose I shoulda put it both places so an old bat like me could track it down. I’m not even sure why I asked Francie for it. Francie is Gladys’s granddaughter. It’s not like I can drive out to see her. They took my license away two years ago ‘cause I parked on the sidewalk. I swear they made the sidewalks down on Clemway so wide, I thought it was the road. A sidewalk should look like a sidewalk, not like a four-lane. Okay, be still. It’s Final Jeopardy.” She unmuted the television and Alex gave the final answer. “Come on now, Professor,” Beulah said as the music played and the contestants wrote their answers. “You can beat him.”
