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Squeezing his eyes shut, Alex pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to stave off the headache that threatened. He never should have come, never given in. Cyrus was supposed to pick him up. Instead, he had called, saying he had an emergency with a sick cow. A new vet was on call, and he had to be there. But the regional airport had a car rental agency. Alex could rent a car. With a deep breath, Alex opened his eyes and looked around the lobby. So much for reality. “Where’s the bar?”
Bar was spelled out in fake, multicolored glass in the top of a dark, wood-paneled door. Five backless stools, a short bar and three tiny red vinyl booths crowded a windowless space. Wheeling his suitcase next to the wall, Alex propped his hip on one stool at the end and glanced at the display of bottles behind the bar. One other customer hunched over a bottle at the far end of the bar. A curtain of curly black hair shielded her face.
“What can I get for you?” A middle-aged man in a faded green T-shirt and jeans wiped the counter in front of him.
Alex studied the labels, didn’t see anything familiar, then tilted his head toward the lone customer. “I’ll have what she’s having.”
Reaching into a glass-fronted cooler, the bartender plunked a sweaty brown bottle on the counter. “Headed in or out?” He grabbed his rag and continued down the counter, wiping in a circular motion.
Alex took a long swig before answering, the tangy brew waking up his mouth. He set the bottle on the coaster. “In.”
“Good thing.” He snorted. “They just canceled the last flight in for the day.” He tipped his chin to the ceiling. “Visibility. Where ya from?”
“New York.”
He nodded, then pointed at the bottle in his hand. “I hear hard cider is getting popular in the city. True?”
Alex twisted the bottle around until he could read the label and then realized the hard cider was the same brand he had been drinking just the night before. “As a matter of fact, hard cider is becoming very popular.”
“Do me a favor...” The bartender disappeared through a swinging door, reappearing a minute later with a plain brown bottle. “Try this and tell me what you think.” He pulled three tumblers from under the counter. “Hey, Sera, want to try something?”
Sitting in the shadows, the woman looked up at the sound of her name. “Okay.” She slid off the stool. “Just a little bit.” She grabbed a yellow poncho and a big purse, and put everything on the stool next to Alex, then sat. She gave Alex a wary look before turning her gaze to the bartender.
“By the way, my name’s Mike.” The bartender smiled as he emptied the bottle into three glasses. He set one in front of Alex and one in front of the young woman. “This is a taste test.”
Picking up the glass, she raised it to her lips.
“Hold on.” Mike held up his glass and shared a big smile. “To success.”
“To success.” Alex clinked his glass with Mike’s and then tipped his glass in the direction of the dark-haired woman. She looked at the glass, then at him and lightly touched her glass to his.
“To success.”
Alex sipped the liquid, swirled it around in his mouth and nodded. “Not bad. You removed the label.”
The bartender didn’t answer, instead waiting for Sera to give her response. She held the glass under her nose and sniffed. “You made this, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “I made this last fall. I call it Flying Apple. You like?”
“Very nice.” She smiled.
Alex watched the exchange. The woman was obviously a regular. And she was capable of smiling. Just not in his direction.
“You’re the first customers I’ve tried it on. My family drinks it, but they’ll drink anything.” Mike set a bowl of pretzels on the counter between Alex and the woman.
The door flew open. Scooby settled next to Sera. “I’ll have what they’re having, Mike.”
“Nice try, buddy. You know you’re not supposed to be sitting at the bar.” Mike raised one eyebrow at the shaggy-haired entrepreneur.
Alex upended his glass. He had to give the young man credit. Not even old enough to drink and he was starting his own business.
“I’ll just be a minute. I’m here on business.” He leaned forward and addressed Alex. “I just got a call. The car I was supposed to get in is stuck in a field. Go figure.”
In the act of swallowing, Alex choked. He pounded on his chest and coughed. Finally, eyes streaming, he turned back to the bar and squeaked out a response. “You’re kidding me.”
“It’s not his fault. Little Bear Creek’s at flood stage. Some of the roads are underwater.”
While Alex had been coughing up apple cider and leaning against the wall, they had been joined by a middle-aged man of average height with a dark beard. He sprawled in one of the booths. He wore a shirt emblazoned with the logo of the airlines and his first name. Mike tossed him a bottle. Taking a ring of keys from his pocket, Al took a healthy swig. “Looks like you’re gonna have to find yourself a ride, buddy. Soon as I finish my libation, I’m gonna put the airport to bed.” He took another long swig and smacked his lips.
Alex tipped his head back against the wall. When he got his hands on his cousin...
“Did the plane to Detroit get out?” The woman two stools over swiveled around and addressed Al. Her brow furrowed as she waited for the response. Alex’s dilemma was no concern of hers. And they say New Yorkers are unfriendly.
Al nodded. “Your brother made it out in the nick of time. They canceled the last flight in, so the airport’s closing. What do you expect? There’s a hurricane moving up the East Coast, and central Pennsylvania is on the outer edges. We get flooding. No big deal. Happens every spring.”
“Good.” Her stool scraped against the wooden floor as she stood and shrugged into the yellow poncho.
“What am I supposed to do?” Alex had the distinct feeling, of the four locals in the bar, the woman, Sera, was his best chance at finding a solution to his problem. But the guarded expression on her face as she paused—the bright vinyl puddled around her neck, emphasizing the blackness of the curly hair—had him rethinking his conclusion.
She pulled the poncho down, slipped her hands through the holes and shook her head, sending curls flying in all directions. “Where are you headed?”
Hope sparked in his chest. Maybe he had misjudged the woman. “Clover Hill Farms. Outside Bear Meadows.”
“No kidding. Well, good luck.” She picked up her paisley purse and headed for the door. “Thanks for the drink, Mike.”
“Hey, Sera. Isn’t Clover Hill Farms close to your place?” Scooby eyed Sera’s glass with her unfinished drink. “You live right next—” Scooby’s enthusiasm deflated at the woman’s sharp glance.
One hand on the dark door, she paused. Her shoulders lifted and dropped, as if she had taken a big sigh. When she turned, his gaze met hers and held.
Pretty green eyes blinked once. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. A full minute passed before she replied. “I’m driving the pickup, Scooby. He doesn’t look like a pickup kind of guy.”
Alex knew if he didn’t do something soon, he would be sleeping on the uncomfortable vinyl chairs in the lobby. So he smiled. For a brief second the woman smiled back, before the smile disappeared and her eyes became guarded. Up close, they almost appeared blue. If he didn’t want to spend the night in the airport, the poncho-wearing, blue-or green-eyed woman was his last hope. “I could be a pickup kind of guy.” He smiled in what he hoped was a persuasive manner. “I’ll pay you.”
She pursed her lips as she considered his answer. “Clover Hill Farms, huh?” She caught the eye of the ticket agent. “There’s no one left in the airport. What about the pilots?”
Al stroked his beard. “Gone.”
Her chin dropped to her chest, as if in defeat. When she looked up, her jaw was set. “Show me your driver’s license.”
Alex supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. In this day and age, a person couldn’t be too careful. He pulled his wallet from his pocket, withdrew his New York license and laid it on the counter. She returned to the bar, every step hesitant as if this were the last place she wanted to be. She glanced down at the piece of plastic. “This license is expired.” Despite the rain, or maybe because of it, her dark hair curled around her face.
Alex looked down at the piece of plastic. “What did you say?”
She tapped the plastic with one finger. “Your license is expired.”
Alex looked around the bar at the three men. “Of course not.” Picking up the license, he checked the date. She was right. Somehow he had allowed the license to expire. Considering he didn’t own a car, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. He held the license in front of her eyes. “Look at the picture. Doesn’t the picture look like me?”
“Not really. That guy has a beard.”
He held the license out to the three men, and each shrugged. No question whose side they were on.
She eyed him warily. “Suppose you are Alexander Kimmel. So what? Kimmels don’t own Clover Hill Farms.” She tossed the license back onto the counter. “This doesn’t exactly reassure me.” Thrusting her shoulders back, she took a deep breath and stared the man straight in the eyes.
So she wasn’t a trusting sort. He guessed that was a good thing. “I’m Cyrus Carter’s cousin. My mother and his father are brother and sister. Call him. He’s expecting me.”
Her eyes narrowed as she looked Alex up and down. “Why didn’t Cy come pick you up?”
This time it was Alex’s turn to shrug. “You got me. He said the new vet’s coming over to look at a sick cow and he has to be there.”
Finally the smile he had been trying for with the pickup response appeared on the woman’s face. “Typical.” A sharp wrinkle appeared between dark brows as she looked up at Alex. “You’re Cy’s cousin? For real?”
Mike slid a thin phone across the top of the bar. “Call him.”
Sera picked up the cell phone and flipped through the screens. Finding what she needed, she held the phone to her ear. “Hello? Mrs. Carter? Hi. This is Serafina Callahan. Could I speak to Cyrus?” She nodded, her fingers toying with the snaps on her yellow poncho. “Yes, ma’am. We’re fine. Listen—” She rolled her eyes and shot an irritated look in Alex’s direction.
He held his hands out to the side. “Good luck getting a word in edgewise.” He smiled as he pictured his aunt pelting Sera with questions like snowballs.
Scooby picked up Sera’s glass, and just as he lifted it to his lips, Mike snatched it out of his hand. “Sorry, buddy.”
“Aww, come on. Just one sip.” Scooby held up one finger.
“No.” Mike emptied the glass in the sink with a smile.
“Mrs...Mrs. Carter, I’m at the airport, and there’s a guy here who says he’s Cy’s cousin...Uh-huh...Uh-huh...He is? Well, what if...Uh-huh...I see...Thank you...Good night.” She returned the phone to Mike, who dropped it in his shirt pocket.
Alex crossed his arms in satisfaction. “What did Aunt Jean say, Sera?” The satisfaction of being right bloomed in his chest. Now, if he could just convince her to give him a ride.
She stared at the bar. Her lips pursed once, twice, before she took a deep breath and looked at him, hard. “She confirmed you are who you say you are.”
Sera’s gaze flicked from the counter to his luggage. “That’s all you brought?”
“I’m just here for the weekend. I have a flight home Monday morning.” His license still lay on the counter. He retrieved it and returned his wallet to his back pocket.
“The New York connection. Out Monday, return Friday.” Her lips pursed, then straightened, and pursed again, before settling into a slight grimace. She’d apparently arrived at a decision, because she sprang up and strode toward the dark door with the colorful glass. The yellow poncho flared around her jean-clad legs like a superhero’s cape. “Come along, then.”
Alex cast a glance first at Scooby, then the ticket agent and then Mike, who reached under the counter and pulled out a Hershey’s bar, which he handed to Alex. “Try sweetening her up with this. She likes chocolate.”
Scooby and Al followed Sera into the main terminal. Switching off the lights in the bar, Mike disappeared into the back.
Grabbing his suitcase, Alex went to find the lady with the pickup. He wished he had never left the city.
CHAPTER TWO (#uda3775bd-5be3-545c-8b0c-883c323730f7)
AS HE HEADED for the front doors, the big overhead lights dimmed, leaving the terminal lobby in shadows. The young woman in the yellow poncho was his only option. Despite the nagging feeling of uncertainty in his chest, he followed.
That quick, she had disappeared. The sidewalk and road in front of the terminal were empty. His cousin owed him big-time after this. The least he could do when requesting a favor would be to pick him up at the airport. A sign read Taxi Stand, but the space was empty. Not unlike Scooby’s car rental agency.
He was wondering if he should try to call Cy when a truck badly in need of a paint job jerked to a stop in front of him. Smoky exhaust poured out the back, blending with the rain. He looked around for a shiny pickup truck. But the parking area was dead.
The window rolled down. Serafina Callahan propped her elbow in the window. “You aren’t waiting for me to open the door for you, are you? Because that’s not part of the service.”
Alex continued to stare at the monstrosity. Silver duct tape rimmed the front wheel well. The original bed had been replaced with a wooden flatbed. “Is this thing safe?”
“Old Blue works just fine. She gets me where I’m going.” She rolled up her window, her shoulder rising and falling with each rotation of the handle.
Alex took a breath. He walked around the front of the truck and pulled open the passenger door. The floorboards were about three feet off the ground with no running board. He set his carry-on on the seat, grabbed the edge of the dash and jumped in. “I guess that’s all that counts.” The door screeched as he pulled it shut.
The lights over the main terminal door dimmed. Inside the ticket agent leaned against the glass doors and waved. “Interesting characters.”
Sera shrugged. “What’s your point?” She turned the truck out of the parking lot and onto the narrow road. The truck stalled in the middle of the two lanes.
Alarmed, Alex looked over his shoulder for oncoming traffic. “We’re in the middle of the road.”
“No kidding.” Sera tried the key. The engine turned over once, twice, coughed, died.
“Do something.” He was wishing more and more he had opted for the plastic seats in the lobby. At least he wouldn’t be roadkill.
She switched off the headlights.
Alex pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. He hadn’t called his mother in three weeks. He would die without saying goodbye.
The engine turned over, coughed and caught. Sera flipped on the headlights and shifted into first gear. “You’re a nervous sort, aren’t you?”
Alex put his hand to his chest. “Only since I arrived here.”
With the rain and the overcast sky, darkness had come early. The headlights lit up trees and shrubs close on both sides of the narrow road.
Looking for his phone, his hand felt the Hershey’s bar in his coat pocket. Maybe she was low on sugar. He offered her the candy bar. “From Mike. He seems to think you like chocolate.”
Her eyes lit on the bar held in his hand. She snatched the bar from his fingers. “And he would be right.”
They both saw the tree branch in the middle of the road at the same time. She slammed on the brakes. His hand shot forward and gripped the dash.
“Sorry. Tree branch. Middle of the road.” She ripped the paper from the candy bar and bit off a huge chunk. And then glanced his way guiltily. “I haven’t eaten all day.” She downshifted.
Except for the roaring of the big engine, the hiss of the tires on the wet road and the ripping of the candy bar wrapper, the next few miles passed in silence. The old truck seemed to find every pothole, which didn’t help his headache one bit. Alex held on to an overhead handgrip as they bounced down the road in the dark. “There’s no interstate highway between the airport and Clover Hill?”
In the glow of the dash lights, he thought he detected a small smile. “There is, but I don’t think my truck will float. This way gives us the best chance of getting home without ending up in the Chesapeake.” She cut him a quick glance. “Is that okay with you, Mr. Kimmel?”
“Call me—” His eyes widened as he saw the obstruction in the road while at the same time realizing she was looking at him. He opened his mouth to warn her but nothing came out. When she jerked her gaze back to the road, she twisted the wheel to one side, steering them toward a tree on the side of the road. Alex’s head slammed sideways and bounced off the window.
He caught a brief glimpse of a white tail and a big tree as his hand again reached for the dash. He wasn’t fast enough. His forehead hit the dash before his hand.
The engine rattled twice and then quit. Rain drummed on the roof of the cab. The headlights shone on a tangled mass of wet green. The tree they had been heading for was just outside the driver’s-side window.
“You just had to devour that candy bar while driving in the middle of a monsoon.” When he heard no response, his gaze slid from the tree to the driver, grimacing and rubbing her right knee. “Are you all right?” He looked her over for bleeding, but in the dim light provided by the headlights, he couldn’t tell which dark spots were water and which were blood.
“Deer.” She leaned her head back against the seat and shut her eyes.
