Chapter 39 #2
By one o’clock, the mall is dead. Every smart person in Chicago has gone home or avoided trudging out into the snow altogether.
There are reports that businesses around the River North/Michigan Avenue area are closing early.
Waterplace Mall won’t close. It never does.
If she were here, Theresa may have decided to close early, but she’s in New York until Friday at an international art fair.
She’s hoping to discover the next great jewelry star.
I guess that’s not me. I refuse to feel sorry for myself, though.
The woman who called on Monday stopped in this morning.
She looked at my new things and browsed the other works, but she didn’t buy.
Not yet, anyway. She did say she’d be back, but that’s what a lot of people say when they don’t buy.
It’s like they think they have to keep our spirits up or something.
In my case, it worked. I’m keeping my hopes up.
At five o’clock, Theresa calls to say we can close up early.
Diane called her to tell her about the weather and that the mall was deserted.
Even the toy store closed. As soon as we’re ready to close up, I grab my coat and purse and take the escalator down.
I hesitate before walking out, because the weather is worse than it was at lunch.
A taxi is going to be impossible to get right now.
In this weather, everyone wants to take a cab.
I’ll have to cross my fingers I can squeeze onto a bus.
I pull the collar up on my coat, put my head down, and march out of the building.
As I approach the corner, I look up in time to step around a snow-covered object that I think is a planter, and see a man in a black coat holding up a sign that reads MACKENZIE PARKER.
Huh? I walk up to the guy. “I’m MacKenzie Parker. ”
He turns and walks up to a black limo. He opens the back door and gestures for me to enter the back seat. “What’s going on?” I ask, shivering.
“I’ve been instructed to drive you home, miss.”
“By whom? Wait. Don’t answer that. I know who did it.
” If I had any pride, I’d just keep walking, but in this freezing blizzard, I’m as weak as a newborn.
I walk past him and slide into the luxurious warmth.
I take in the leather interior and minibar.
The heat is blasting, thank God. The car feels like I’m in a warm cocoon.
There’s a tall Thermos cup in the cup holder next to me.
When the driver slides into his seat, he leans back and says, “Miss, there’s hot chocolate with whipped cream in the cup for you to enjoy.”
“Oh, my God,” I whisper. That man is something else. I pick up the cup and take a sip. “It’s still hot.”
“Yes, miss,” he says with such formality, I feel like a princess.
I sit back in my seat and watch everyone outside struggle to get around.
I feel a little self-conscious and a lot guilty.
So many people are out there cold and wet, and I’m in here all warm and dry.
It takes over an hour, but when he finally pulls up to my house, I’ve finished the remainder of my hot chocolate.
The driver starts to step out, but I stop him.
“No. Please. I can get out by myself. Stay warm.”
“Very well, miss.”
“Thank you very much. Drive safe.”
“I will, and you’re very welcome, miss. Have a wonderful night,” he says, smiling.
I grab my purse and open the door. The snow seems to be slowing down a little bit. I clomp back to my door and race inside. Tossing my coat and purse down, the first thing I do is turn up my furnace. I do my best to keep my utility bills down, but on days like this, I’ve got to splurge.
After brewing myself a cup of tea, I search my cupboards for something to cook. “Shoot.” If I’d known we were going to get hit with this stupid snow, I’d have gone to the store. “I’m sure no one is delivering on a night like this.” I wouldn’t want to ask someone to deliver anyway.
I pull out an old box of pancake mix. “I’ve got peanut butter.
Pancakes with peanut butter would be good.
” I mix up a small batch of pancakes and turn on my little gas stove.
I cook up three pancakes and slather them with chunky peanut butter.
Biting into the soft, warm pancakes, I moan in appreciation at the taste.
This meal was a great idea for a snowy night.
As I eat, I ponder what to do for the rest of my night.
I could work, but I decide it’s the perfect weather to crawl into bed and read a good book.
I take a quick shower to get the rest of the chill out of my bones, dress in my warmest flannels, and hop into bed.
I plug my old phone into the charger and grab my book.
Tonight, I’m reading a book about a funny detective named Stephanie Plum.
I love the series. It always makes me laugh.
Twenty minutes later, my phone dings.
Lauren: You home safe and sound?
Me: Yes. You?
Lauren: I am, but Blake’s still out. He said he had to work late.
Me: They didn’t close early? Everything was shutting down.
Lauren: I guess not.
Me: I’m glad you’re home. Stay warm. ;)
Lauren: Will do. You, too.
I don’t tell her about my ride home. Actually, I haven’t told her about the flowers or the food.
I will. Just not tonight. It’s weird, though.
Blake had to work late? He’s a commercial real estate broker who works for Lauren’s uncle.
It’d be easy enough to find out if he’s okay. Maybe he’s stranded in the office.
Me: Maybe he’s stranded in the office.
I wait but don’t get a response for thirty minutes.
Lauren: They closed early.
Me: Maybe he’s stranded somewhere. It’s a mess out there.
Lauren: He won’t answer his phone, and I’ve sent six text messages. No response.
Me: Maybe he left his phone at the office.
Lauren: Yeah, maybe. Gill told me I could do a search with an app called Find-my-phone.
Me: Gill?
Lauren: He called me a little while ago to make sure I was home safe and sound.
Me: Oh, that’s so sweet. Wait. Why is he calling you?
Lauren: We’re friends.
Me: Friends?
Lauren: JUST friends. I’d never do anything… inappropriate. I love Blake and you know it.
Me: I do. I’m glad you have a new friend who looks out for you.
If only her husband looked out for her.
Me: Okay, keep me posted.
Lauren: Will do.
I set my phone on my nightstand and return to my book. I hear it ding. Thinking it’s Lauren again, I pick it back up.
Sam: I hope you’re home safe and warm. You don’t have to reply. Just wanted you to know I was worried about you.
Me: You sent a car for me. You know I’m home safe and sound. Thank you, by the way.
Sam: I have no idea what you’re talking about. ;)
Me: Ha ha. Well, thanks anyway.
Sam: I’d like to talk sometime. If or when you’re ready to hear me out, call me. Please.
I don’t know what to say to that. Actually, I’m afraid to reply. My resistance is waning. I need to do what I can to stay the course. I decide to just leave it out there in cyberland. Just as I’m about to set the phone down again, it rings. Oh, maybe it’s Sam.
“Hello?”
“Mac. It says his phone is at a hotel.”
“Which hotel?”
“The Four Seasons.”
“Did he have a meeting there?” It’s possible. He works with some pretty important people.
“I called my uncle. He said he saw Blake and his assistant leave before lunch today. There were no meetings on his iCalendar. I looked.”
“I’m sure there’s a simple explanation for this, honey.”
I hear her sniffle.
“Sweetie, he’s probably just hanging out at the bar, waiting for the snow to let up.” Shit, I hope that’s it.
“Yeah, I guess. I’m just worried. I’m going to get off the phone in case he tries to call.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Mac.”