Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Two years ago, he stomped out of the Christmas party, put a curvy woman dressed as an elf on the back of his bike, and kidnapped her. Actually, they knew each other and the elf was in love with him, so I’m not so sure that it counts as kidnapping. Still, it’s always struck me as kind of romantic.
“No, she didn’t,” I answer, sipping my fizzy champagne and trying not to grimace.
The two of us are back here because Bobby’s parents wanted to chat with us. His life is so carefully structured by them that I’m surprised he doesn’t have to ask for permission every time he blows his nose.
I know that’s an ungracious thought, but sometimes, I can’t help wondering if it ever makes him crazy. He’s in his twenties. Doesn’t he want to rebel against them? What would be Bobby’s idea of rebelling–combing his hair in the wrong direction? Not saying “thank you” to the cashier after a purchase?
Mom picks invisible lint from her jacket, and my heart twists when I see the slight shake of her fingers.
“I told her,” I whisper. “I told her that he was going to propose. I don’t think she’s lost.”
Mom’s shoulders relax away from her ears for half a second. She presses her lips together as Bobby’s parents enter the room with all the regal grace of two people who have been born into generational wealth. Pretty sure his great-great-great grandparents owned a castle. A real one with a moat.
His parents exchange their silly little air kisses with mom. Heaven forbid that actual affection should be shown by anyone in Bobby’s family. Physical displays of affection must be reserved for commoners and crude moments that demand a new heir be produced.
Mom fixes them with an apologetic smile. “I just talked to Holly. She’s come down with the flu.”
She tells the lie with such ease because it can’t be questioned. This is a hospital filled with immunocompromised children. Who’s going to berate Holly for not showing up?
I listen idly as they offer their sympathies and plan the next proposal as easily as if they were ordering a meal from a menu. One bride with curves and a reluctant groom who’s content to be bossed around by his parents for the rest of his life. Hold the public affection. Grandbabies within five years, please.
When they finally leave, mom slumps exhausted into one of the chairs. She taps a red fingernail on the table for a long moment then nods to herself, having come to a decision. “We’ll give her a few days, and if she doesn’t come home, we’ll go get her.”
Three days later, I climb into the passenger seat of my mom’s rental car. We haven’t heard from Holly yet, which is strange. She’s never done something like this before. She’s never disappeared without a word.
I thought about calling the police then decided against it. Clutching my phone to my chest, I tell Mom, “I have her coordinates.”
“I bet she’s staying at a charming inn in a very cozy town,” Mom answers as if that explains the sudden radio silence after years of living in Holly’s hip pocket. “She’s probably met a kind young man. He’s a lumberjack and calls his parents every Sunday afternoon.”
This is my mom. She imagines stories that are turned into movies that make my family a lot of money. Still, I play along because she’s worried, and Holly should have called by now. “He owns an apple orchard that’s about to fall into the hands of the money-hungry businessman until the plucky heroine figures out a way to bottle his family’s secret apple cider recipe that’s been handed down from generation to generation. “
She drums her nails on the steering wheel as she drives. “It’s not bad. Let’s throw in a child in a wheelchair and an injured puppy.”
“He saved them both from a burning building. Off screen, so it’s not too scary,” I answer, digging in my purse for snacks. “He helps his grandma knit mittens for those in need at the soup kitchen where he volunteers on weekends.”
We continue brainstorming ideas for upcoming movies while she drives deeper into the backroads of North Carolina. When we pass the sign welcoming us to Courage County, my stomach hurts. What are the odds she’d be in the small town where my boss lives?
“I think this is it,” I murmur as she pulls off one road. About fifteen miles from here, up on the craggy mountaintop, there’s a cabin where Ford lives. I swear he chose the spot, so he could scowl down on the rest of the world.
Mom glances around the thick forest. “Are you sure her phone hasn’t pinged you again?”
“The tank is nearly full. Let’s go a bit further. If we can’t find her rental after a few minutes, we’ll go back down the mountain and talk to the police department.”