Chapter 16
“We’re next in line,” Lauren said to Pumpkin, who stayed close to her leg at the end of her leash.
The desk clerk handed the woman in front of Lauren a room key. “Our restaurant is open until ten,” he said. “You’re welcome to dine in or order food to take back to your room. We don’t offer room service.” He gestured toward a brightly lit alcove near the elevators.
“We also have a twenty-four-hour, self-service pantry. Refrigerated cases hold sandwiches, fruit, and yogurt. A freezer section contains frozen microwave meals and ice cream. And it has snacks and bottled drinks. You can also find travel essentials. Just bring what you need to the front desk, and we’ll charge it to your room. ”
He lowered his voice. “The storm has brought in an unusually high number of stranded passengers—many separated from their luggage. We’re running low on some items, and the vendor won’t restock until tomorrow.
If you need anything—food, medicine, extra clothing—I suggest getting it before heading to your room.
The gift shop is open until nine,” he added.
“They carry apparel and a limited selection of snacks.”
Lauren checked her watch. 8:35. She would collect her key, place a takeout order, and make a quick sweep through the gift shop.
The small travel pouch in her carry-on held basic toiletries and her go-to over-the-counter medications.
What she really wanted was something warm to sleep in.
All her clothes were in her checked bag.
She’d planned to pull out her down parka when she landed in Providence.
Instead, she was shivering. The Raleigh airport had been chilly.
Her teeth had chattered by the time she’d made it through the long line for hotel vouchers.
The shuttle ride—five minutes in good weather, twenty in sleet and wind—had been frigid.
She’d tucked Pumpkin inside her fleece jacket to shield her from the drafts each time the shuttle doors opened.
Pumpkin had been miserable, too.
When Lauren reached the desk, she handed over her voucher and credit card for incidentals. The clerk began reciting the same information he’d supplied to the woman in front of her.
“I heard,” Lauren said, lifting her hand. “Thank you. I’ll let you get on with checking in these people.” She gestured to the growing line behind her.
Key card in hand, she stepped aside and headed straight to the restaurant hostess stand. “Do you have a club sandwich?” she asked, skipping the menu.
The young host nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll take one to go. Charge it to my room.”
“It’ll be ready in twenty minutes,” he said. “The kitchen’s busy.”
“Perfect.” That gave her enough time to hopefully find some clothes.
The clothing section of the gift shop was at the back. Sweatshirts, zippered hoodies, and long-sleeve T-shirts hung above cubbies that were now entirely empty. Everyone else had the same idea, Lauren thought.
She turned toward a rotating rack of baseball caps. Only two remained. Then she saw them. Christmas pajamas. Her heart lifted.
The display showed several patterns. One was a classic red-and-green plaid, understated, traditional, and almost elegant. Very Ralph Lauren, she thought. She flipped through the sizes. 2T. 3T. 4T. Children’s only.
The next set was soft flannel in pale blue, dusted with glittery snowflakes. Again, only children’s sizes remained. Lauren exhaled and moved to the final stack.
Her fingers stilled.
Across a vibrant red flannel background, caricatures of dogs romped in festive chaos; dachshunds wore Santa hats, golden retrievers were tangled in Christmas lights, pugs sported reindeer antlers, and poodles showed off elf ears.
One fluffy terrier resembling Pumpkin was dressed as a gingerbread man.
The dogs were joyful, ridiculous, and almost over-the-top. But not quite.
More sizes remained in this pattern. Lauren began digging through the stack, and squealed. Matching dog pajamas! There was one small and one extra-large left. She held the small up to Pumpkin. “These will fit you perfectly,” she said. “What do you think? Want to get cozy tonight?”
Pumpkin placed her front paws against Lauren’s knee and wagged her tail.
“I’m getting these for you no matter what,” Lauren said.
She removed the tag and slipped the tiny red flannel top over Pumpkin’s head, guiding her front paws through the sleeves and reattaching her leash.
The little dog stood still as Lauren smoothed the fabric down her back.
“You look absolutely adorable,” Lauren said, leaning back to admire her.
Pumpkin gave a pleased wiggle.
Lauren returned to the stack and found the only two adult pairs remaining. Both were XL. She grabbed one. Even if she only wore them once, they’d keep her warm tonight.
Lauren stepped toward the register, Pumpkin proudly modeling her new holiday attire, Lauren clutching the oversized matching set and the torn tag in her hand. And then she felt it: that subtle shift in the room when someone enters. She looked up.
The tall man in black from the plane was stepping into the gift shop.