Come Fly With Me (52 page)

"I
know
it
feels
really
close,
but
it's
nearly
white-out
conditions
here.
It's
dangerous
to
go
any
further.
We'll
get
to
it
first
thing
tomorrow
as
soon
as
the
roads
get
cleared."
He
squinted
through
the
flakes,
"Are
there
any
hotels
around
here?"

"I
don't
really
know
this
area.
Let's
drive
down
the
next
road
and
see
what
comes
up."
Allison
tried
to
hide
her
disappointment.
She'd
had
some
time
to
gather
her
thoughts
on
the
treacherous
drive
up
and
realized
that
Alex
was
being
a
supportive
friend.
She
didn't
want
to
seem
ungrateful
now
and
push
him
to
continue
driving.

They
inched
along
slowly
as
the
wind
and
snow
swirled
around
them.
The
area
was
quaint,
with
no
signs
of
a
hotel
anywhere.

"Wait,
Alex,
slow
down,
I
think
I
see
some
sort
of
shingle.
Could
that
be
a
bed
and
breakfast?"

"That
would
make
sense,
I
don't
think
any
hi-rise
urban
hotels
are
about
to
appear
on
this
road,
and
I
don't
relish
the
thought
of
a
Super
8
motel."

"Turn
here!
It
seems
like
a
long
driveway,
but...wait,
it
looks
like
someone
converted
his
or
her
own
farmhouse
into
an
inn.
Thank
goodness
for
four-wheel
drive
that
can
get
through
anything!"

They
got
out
and
hurried
up
to
the
large
wraparound
porch
peering
through
the
heavy-leaded
glass,
they
could
see
the
lights
on
inside.
The
doorbell
pealed
its
sound
of
welcome,
and
they
nodded
at
each
other
as
they
heard
hurried
steps.

"My,
my,
two
snowmen
have
come
to
visit
me!"
The
door
was
opened
by
an
attractive
woman
in
her
mid-sixties,
dressed
for
warmth
in
a
cozy
sweater
and
cords.
"Come
in
out
of
the
storm.
I
guess
you
saw
my
shingle.
I'm
not
really
running
and
fully
operational
for
another
couple
of
weeks,
but
you
two
don't
look
like
you'd
mind
very
much
at
this
point!"

They
shook
their
heads
in
unison.
"We
don't
mind,"
Alex
spoke
up.
"We'll
sleep
on
the
floor
if
we
have
to,
as
long
as
we're
out
of
the
snow."

"No
need
for
that,
I'll
think
of
something.
My
name
is
Rebecca
Morrison,
but
everyone
calls
me
Becca."

"Becca,
thank
you,
I'm
Allison,
this
is
Alex...we
work
together."

Alex
flashed
her
a
grin
at
that.
Allison
just
wanted
to
avoid
the
awkward
moment
when
Becca
would
show
them
to
'their'
room.

"Separate
rooms—I've
got
it,"
Becca
smiled
as
she
watched
the
exchange
between
the
two.
"It
just
so
happens
that
I
have
a
large
pot
of
beef
stew
bubbling
on
the
stove,
and
some
homemade
bread
in
the
oven.
I
thought
it
would
be
a
good
time
to
try
out
some
recipes
for
when
I'm
up
and
running
in
a
few
weeks.
Here,
let
me
take
your
wet
coats—I'll
hang
them
up
to
dry.
I'll
be
back
in
a
sec."

They
looked
around
the
cheery
Great
Room
with
its
warm,
cranberry-colored
walls
and
creamy-white
bead
board
wainscoting.
There
were
overstuffed
chairs
in
plaid
and
an
oversized
shabby
chic
sofa
in
a
pumpkin-colored
velvet.
A
chenille
throw
lay
casually
over
the
sofa's
arm.

Becca
came
up
behind
them,
"What
do
you
think?
You're
my
first
customers."

"It's
inviting
and
cozy.
I
love
it,"
Allison
said.

"That's
what
I
was
shooting
for,
well,
come
into
the
dining
room.
I
have
a
fire
going.
What
were
you
two
doing
out
in
this
kind
of
weather?"

Allison
was
taken
aback
by
the
question,
but
realized
Becca
only
meant
to
be
conversational.
She
couldn't
possibly
know
that
she'd
hit
a
nerve.

"I
live
in
Nyack,
and
I
was
going
to
visit
my
Mom.
When
we
left,
the
city
there
was
barely
a
coating
on
the
ground.
As
we
hit
the
George
Washington,
it
really
started
coming
down."

Becca
nodded,
"I'm
glad
you
had
the
good
sense
to
pull
over.
Please,
have
something
to
eat,
and
then
I'll
show
you
to
your
rooms.
Only
one
room
is
operational,
the
others
were
painted
yesterday
—
oil-based,
I'm
afraid,
for
authenticity.
Unfortunately,
the
fumes
last
much
longer
than
water-based
paint.
Alex,
there's
a
small
handyman's
room
in
the
attic
that
should
be
alright
for
one
night.
I'll
show
it
to
you,
and
you'll
decide
if
that
works
for
you.
If
not,
I'll
come
up
with
something
else,"
she
said
as
she
turned
toward
the
kitchen.