Upon arrival, she discovered Lucan had fallen asleep. She hated to wake him, but leaving him alone in the vehicle was not an option. So, she scooped him up and carried him crying as she made her way to where Alex was standing with a group of men gathered around a makeshift table littered with blueprints.
“Good morning, everyone,” she said loudly over the crying child. “I apologize. He just woke up.” At that moment, Lucan vomited all over her blouse—a mixture of regurgitated grape jam and peanut butter. “Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed, holding him at arm’s length.
A wide-eyed Alex quickly glanced around at the men. “Do any of you have a?—?”
One of the guys, a man with graying hair and deep lines at the corners of his eyes, quickly fished out a clean handkerchief from his back pocket and offered it up. “Don’t know why you young guys don’t carry one,” he said to the other men who stood there stupefied.
Alex took the handkerchief and opened a thermos that was on the table. He wet the cloth with water and handed it off to Reva, who was horrified at the situation. “Thank you,” she said, juggling Lucan on her hip, who was now grinning. “My wet wipes are back in the car.” She patted the spot on her blouse to no avail. Rubbing it only made the stain worse.
Finally, she sighed. “Looks like a lost cause. I’ll have to go home and change.” She looked up. “But not this minute. Let’s continue.” She assumed a professional stance and prepared to participate in the discussion.
The guys all glanced at each other. One of them finally shrugged. “You gonna tell her?” he asked Alex.
“Go ahead,” came the reply.
The guy who had posed the question stepped forward and pointed to Reva’s head. “Uh, you have a little in your hair.”
“What?” Reva’s hand darted to where he pointed and met with a sticky concoction. She groaned. How was she going to command a presence with these men and hold their attention with a glob of vomit in her hair?
She met Alex’s gaze. “Look, let’s reschedule. In the meantime, shoot me an email outlining the progress and any issues that need the city’s attention. I’ll review it and respond immediately.”
She apologized profusely and turned for her car. Lucan leaned over her shoulder and waved his chubby hands back at the crew.
On the way home to change, Reva made a decision. She hit the call button on her steering wheel and activated her voice telephone system. “Call Oma,” she said.
Seconds later, the older woman answered. “Well, hello dear.”
“Oma, I have a little emergency here.” She explained the situation and how she was already running late for her next meeting. She didn’t mention the meeting was in Jackson and wasn’t business related, but a coffee date with Kellen Warner.
“I’d be happy to watch Lucan, dear.”
An hour had passed, and Reva, now showered and in fresh attire, had left the little boy in Oma’s capable care. As she accelerated away, a fleeting glimpse in the rearview mirror at the unoccupied car seat stirred an unwelcome sensation of guilt within her. Guilt she quickly brushed aside. After all, Lucan was with Oma—safe, sound, and in the best possible hands.
And she would be fine, too, despite the fact she now had wet hair in a braid. Not wanting to be tardy a second time, she pressed down on the accelerator to make up for the delay, determined to reclaim the lost minutes.
She even let herself enjoy the quiet and reached for the radio dial, tuning into her favorite jazz station. It was a beautiful morning after all, despite its chaotic start.
The piercing sound of a siren broke into her reverie.
A glance in the mirror confirmed her fears as she spotted the red lights of Fleet Southcott’s police car. Her gaze darted to her dash and realized her oversight—she’d been speeding.
With a resigned groan, she slowed and prepared to pull over to the side of the road.
So much for her dedication to being punctual.
23
Reva stepped into the Cowboy Coffee Company, the quaint and iconic establishment nestled in the heart of Jackson. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans mingled with the sweet scent of cinnamon, creating a comforting ambiance. The shop was bustling with the morning rush as tourists lined up to get a cup of their famous arabica bean roast. Despite the demand, the interior had a cozy charm with its rustic wooden tables, soft ambient lighting, and the light murmur of patrons chatting.
She scanned the room and her gaze landed on Kellen Warner, who was seated at a corner table with a clear view of the entrance. He looked up from his coffee, his eyes lighting up as they met hers.
Reva made her way over, her heart skipping a beat. Kellen stood as she approached, showcasing his solid build—every inch the car mechanic who had bravely driven away a bear and expertly changed her flat tire.
“Good morning, Reva,” he greeted, his voice warm and inviting.
“Morning, Kellen. I apologize for being late,” Reva replied, hoping to atone for her tardy arrival. “I don’t normally miss an appointment time,” she explained, adding brief details of her complicated morning. “I won’t even get into the saga about my flooded office. Apparently, mold can be an issue. The office is going to have to be rebuilt using new materials. The project is expected to take several months. Until construction is complete, I’ll be working in some temporary space in City Hall—an area that used to serve as a storage room.”
Kellen laughed. “Sounds like quite the day.”
