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“Good. Wonderful. Will be better when you get here.” A pause. “Please tell me you’ll still get here.”
“Absolutely, back on track. The bad weather’s passed, we’ve got a flight. I’ll be there for dinner.”
“I?” she says. “No ‘we’?”
“Nope.” I force a cheerful tone. “Change of plans. Katherine’s headed to Boston.”
“Oh, fantastic!” Lolo’s voice sounds the most genuinely happy it has since the start of this nightmare. “Does she have family there who can take her on?”
Take her on?
I pause. “No. No family. Just . . . she figured something out.”
“Well, this is incredible.” Lo is gushing. “Now we can celebrate Christmas properly, the way we planned.”
“Absolutely.” My voice is flat now. “My Good Samaritan duties are officially behind me.” I hear a thump as Katherine spills out of the porta-potty. “I got to go. I’ll call you as soon as I land.”
“I love you.”
“Love you too,” I say automatically, ending the call. I put the phone in my bag instead of its usual spot in my pocket to avoid what I expect will be a nonstop barrage of messages from my family as they start to wake up.
Katherine shuffles back toward me through the snow. “Tom! Look!”
She gestures at the road, and I turn to see a black sedan crawling toward us.
Katherine waves wildly and needlessly at the car until it slows to a stop beside us. Its tinted windows keep me from seeing the driver’s face, and I hope Katherine’s not going to have another one of her serial killer freak-outs, but she simply grabs her suitcase and walks back toward the trunk. I do the same.
We both stand there, but the trunk stays shut.
“Um,” Katherine says. “Hello?”
“Maybe it’s his first day?” I say quietly.
“Hello!” Katherine calls. Much less quietly.
The trunk pops open, and Katherine immediately leans forward to give it a careful inspection.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
“Body bag. Bleach.”
“Oh, God, not this again.” I grab both of our suitcases and hoist them into the trunk before she can think of some reason why we should stay out in the freezing cold instead of get into the warm car.
The sky is starting to cloud over, and a few snowflakes have started to fall. If there’s another storm on the way, I have every intention of beating it.
“See, now, if this were a cab, the driver would have gotten out of the car to help us,” Katherine says, dropping her bag atop the suitcases.
“If he were a cab, we’d have to get you a helmet,” I say, slamming the trunk shut.
The second I do, the front wheels make a grinding, slipping noise on the ice before continuing down the road. Without us.
Shock renders us speechless for a moment, and Katherine recovers first. “Hey! Moron! You forgot the passengers!”
She starts to run after it but slips on the snow. I grab her arm to steady her. “Katherine.” My voice is steadier than I feel. “Please tell me that you checked the license plate of that car. To make sure it matched the one in the app?”
It’s a rhetorical question because I’d bet my luggage she didn’t check. Oh, wait. I don’t have any luggage.
Katherine takes a long, deep breath. “Okay. It’s okay. It’s going to be fine. The roads are still icy, he’s not going to get anywhere fast. Call the cops, tell them what happened.”
It’s my turn for a long, deep breath. “I don’t have my phone, Katherine. Or my wallet. They were both in my briefcase.”
Along with an engagement ring.
I can’t think about that right now. “Give me your phone. I’ll call. You’ll just start to yell.”
She doesn’t move.
“Katherine. Don’t tell me—”
“My phone’s in my purse.”
“Why the hell would you put your purse in the trunk!”
“I was trying to make a point!” she yells back. “That I could go without my phone!”
I—
I can’t with that right now. So I ignore it.
I tilt my head back to the sky. “Damn it. This is so you.”
“What exactly is so me? Putting my luggage into a strange car?” She hunches her shoulders and shivers. “Believe it or not, this is a first.”
“Not that,” I say, looking back at her. “You make everything about you. You never stop, not once, to see who you might be affecting. It’s always what you want to do, a point you were trying to make. Your career. Your goals. Your agenda.”
“You seriously want to talk about agenda right now? Tell me, Tom, where were we headed? Oh yeah, Chicago, which I can assure you hasn’t been on my holiday agenda for a long time. And why were we going to Chicago again?”
I cross my arms. “Because my family lives there, and it’s Christmas. I shouldn’t have to defend wanting to spend the holidays with my family.”
“Ah. But that’s not why we have to get there by Christmas Eve. Is it, Tom?” Her voice is quiet, her gaze equally calm.
