10
After an uneventful night in a fairly vacant RV park located in what felt like “the Middle of Nowhere,” Texas, they got an early start for Albuquerque.
According to the Weather Channel app on Miranda’s phone, the weather system wasn’t expected to move in until tomorrow, but there had been frost on the windshield early this morning.
“Cold out there,” Joy said as Miranda drove down the nearly deserted highway.
“Uh-huh.” After Joy’s reaction to the weather forecast yesterday, Miranda didn’t want to tell Joy about the route of the predicted storm just yet. Maybe it was better just to keep moving and hope for the best.
“Do you really think there’ll be snow?”
“I’m not sure. I mean, I don’t think of New Mexico as snow country. In fact, it all looks more like desert country to me.”
“Yes, but it’s a high desert,” Joy explained. “The elevation makes it colder and it does get snow . . . sometimes.” Joy’s usual cheerful tone was tinged with concern. “I’m not sure about driving the motor home on snow and ice. I remember George being quite worried about that before.”
“Oh?” Miranda peered out at the skyline. “Well, it’s a pretty clear day today. Doesn’t look like any chance of snow.”
“You’re right.” Joy brightened. “It’s a perfectly lovely day.”
“So who are we visiting in Albuquerque?” Miranda asked in the hopes of distracting them from weather worries.
“A place called Angel of Mercy.”
“Angel of Mercy . . . that sounds nice. What is it?”
“A nonprofit rehabilitation center for addiction.”
“Oh?”
“A sweet girl named Abigail wrote to me about the place. Abigail is only thirteen and her seventeen-year-old brother, Dallas, is in treatment there. She wrote a pretty long email and it was obvious that she loves Dallas very much. She was extremely worried that this is his first Christmas away from home. Afraid he’ll get depressed.
And she described the rehab center as bleak and boring. ”
“Not after we’re done with it.”
“When do you think we’ll get there?” Joy asked.
“Even if we stop for an early lunch, we should be there by one.”
“Perfect.” Joy clapped her hands. “It should only take a couple of hours to decorate. And a couple more hours will get us to tonight’s RV park before dark.”
“Yes. We’re right on schedule to arrive in Flagstaff by tomorrow afternoon. And after we’re done there, we’ll have no problem making it to Phoenix in time for Christmas.”
“To think we’ve traveled all these miles together,” Joy said happily. “I never could’ve done this trip without you, dear. You’re a marvelous driver. Just marvelous.”
Miranda felt a small rush of pride. “Well, we’re not done yet.”
“No, but it feels like the end is in sight.”
Miranda nodded. Of course, she knew the weather could still play havoc with their schedule.
But at least they should make it to Albuquerque with enough time to get some lunch and fill the RV with gas.
Hopefully they’d get the rehab center decorated quickly and still reach the RV park before dark.
In all likelihood they would make it to Flagstaff long before the snow actually flew.
And, if they worked fast, they could get out of there and down to lower elevations and be out of harm’s way before it got bad.
To Miranda’s dismay, the rehab center was in a busy area of town.
Maneuvering the large RV through traffic and stoplights was a bit of a challenge, but eventually—thanks to Miss Moore—they were parked in front of a stucco building with the right address.
As they walked up to the door, they noticed a small sign declaring that it was indeed the Angel of Mercy.
The lobby reminded Miranda of the nursing home they’d visited a few days ago. Bleak and boring. Besides a bulletin board and a few mental health posters, the place was a colorless sea of beige and tan. Uninviting. And not a single shred of Christmas cheer.
They approached the reception desk and Joy quickly explained who they were and why they had come, but the young receptionist seemed unimpressed. “I can’t let you in,” she said in a flat tone. “Against the rules.”
“But your manager authorized this,” Joy insisted. “We exchanged emails and he said we could—”
“No one told me about it.”
“Perhaps I should talk to the manager then,” Joy persisted.
“Yeah, you should.” The young woman paused to answer the phone, turning her back to them.
“I have his name in here,” Joy whispered to Miranda as she reached into her bag, and pulled out her red and green notebook. “I believe it’s Norman . . . something or other.”
“Norm Cross.” The receptionist hung up the phone and reached for a magazine, flipping it open. “He’s the manager.”
“Right.” Joy nodded eagerly. “I’m happy to talk to him again. I’m sure he can straighten this all out for us.”
“Norm’s gone for the day.”
“Gone?” Joy dropped her notebook back in her bag and exchanged a troubled glance with Miranda. “Oh, dear.”
“Who’s in charge when Norm’s gone?” Miranda demanded, suppressing the urge to give the rude receptionist a firm shake.
“Nina Olson. But she’s in a meeting.”
“So when will Nina be done?” Joy asked patiently. “When may we speak to her?”
“The meeting will finish around two thirty. Unless they run longer. They sometimes run until three or later.”
“Okay . . .” Joy slowly zipped her bag closed, then turned to Miranda. “Perhaps we should wait in the RV . . . until two thirty.”
Miranda studied Joy. She was clearly frustrated. Plus she had dark circles beneath her eyes and looked exhausted. “Why don’t you go on out there now? Just put your feet up for a bit,” Miranda suggested quietly. “Meanwhile, I’ll see what I can accomplish here. Okay?”
“All right.” Joy nodded with an uncertain expression.
After Joy left, Miranda turned her attention back to the surly receptionist. As much as she wanted to yell at this rude young woman and tell her how unprofessional she was, Miranda was determined to handle this right. For Joy’s sake.
“I know we introduced ourselves to you,” Miranda said a bit stiffly, “but I didn’t catch your name.”
“Roxy,” the woman said with a slightly suspicious look.
“Well, Roxy, my friend Joy didn’t get a chance to fully explain why we’re here.
” And now Miranda launched into a quick but detailed explanation of the website, the contest, and their mission here.
“And the problem is that we’re in a bit of a race against the weather,” she said finally.
“There’s a snowstorm predicted, and we’re driving a large RV that apparently doesn’t do too well on snow.
We’d really like to wrap up our visit here as quickly as possible.
” Actually, Miranda wanted to wrap it up right now.
“Well, that’s not really my problem,” Roxy said in a flippant way. “You’ll have to wait for Nina to help you.” She chuckled like she was enjoying a private joke. “But that would be a first.”
“A first?” Miranda glared at Roxy. “A first what?”
“A first time for Nina to agree to anything regarding Christmas.” Roxy laughed.
“And why is that?”
Roxy’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Nina is very anti-Christmas. Antireligion too.”
“And this place is called Angel of Mercy?”
Roxy snickered. “Yeah, well, some people call it by other names too. I won’t repeat them here though.”
Miranda didn’t know what to say. Perhaps they were on a fool’s mission with this place. Maybe the wise thing would be to just call it a wash, continue on their way, and make it to Flagstaff before dark—and before the weather changed. It was tempting.
But then she remembered the story about Abigail and her brother, Dallas. It was so sweet how the teenage sister cared so deeply for her brother. Joy would not want to give up this easily. For that matter, neither did Miranda. Not without one last good try.
Miranda studied Roxy closely. The young woman was absently perusing a gossip magazine, probably hoping that Miranda had gone away. Miranda loudly cleared her throat. “Is there a number where I can reach the manager? Norm Cross?”
“Huh?” Roxy looked up.
“I’d like to speak to Mr. Cross,” Miranda said firmly.
“Because if we can’t do this right now—as planned—we might have to skip it altogether.
It would be a shame for your rehab center to miss out on this prize, especially considering that your manager has already authorized for us to be here.
I’m sure the patients in treatment here would be disappointed to discover they had been robbed of this opportunity.
” She narrowed her eyes slightly. “And who knows, Roxy, you might even be accused of being the Grinch who stole Christmas from the Angel of Mercy. Do you really want that on your head?”
Roxy’s thin eyebrows arched. “Well . . . no . . . but I—”
“Then I suggest you give me Norm Cross’s number right now. But if you’d rather not, I’m sure I can find it in our records. And when I speak to him I’ll be sure to mention just how very helpful you’ve been.” Miranda leaned over the counter, locking eyes with her. “I’m sure he’ll be interested.”
“Fine.” Roxy grabbed a Post-it pad, scribbling down a number before ripping it off and thrusting it toward Miranda.
Miranda took the paper outside, and with slightly shaky fingers—probably the result of her suppressed anger—dialed the number, waiting until a man’s voice answered. “This is Norm.”
Miranda quickly identified herself, apologizing for interrupting his time off and then explaining their dilemma using as few words as necessary. “If you’d prefer to decline your My Route 66 prize, we can just continue on our way and—”
“No, no,” he interrupted. “I already told some of our patients that Christmas Joy was coming, and they’ve been looking forward to it. I just got too busy and totally forgot that it was supposed to happen today. I’m really, really sorry.”
“So will we be allowed to decorate and leave the things for the party as planned?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll let my staff know immediately. And I’ll pick up a tree to bring by. Joy Jorgenson sent me the check to do that. I’m near a tree lot right now.”