—Maggie Walther’s Diary
“What are you doing, girl?” I said to myself as Andrew drove away. I pulled up the weather app on my phone and typed in Los Cabos. It was sunny with a high of ninety-six degrees. I know exactly what I’m doing. I’m going to Cabo San Lucas with a complete stranger I’ve fallen in love with. A smile crossed my face. I was going to Cabo with a gorgeous stranger. It was the first time that I had something to look forward to in a long, long time.
I couldn’t wait to tell someone, which, of course, meant Carina. I sat on the bed and called her. “Hi, doll.”
She hesitated. “Maggie?”
“Yes?”
“Wow, I wasn’t sure it was you. I haven’t heard you this cheery since you found out that dark chocolate is good for you.”
“Andrew just invited me to Cabo.”
“The Christmas tree salesman?”
“The Christmas tree salesman,” I said. “His friend has a condo on the beach and he said we can use it. I checked the weather. It’s like ninety-five degrees there today.”
“You think that’s a good idea?”
“I’ll wear sunscreen.”
“I meant going to Cabo with a stranger.”
“He’s not a stranger.”
“Uh, he is, Maggie. You’ve known him like, a week?”
“Eight days,” I said. “I’d known you for less than twenty minutes when I hired you. I’m not worried.”
“Which is why I am.”
“He’s a gentleman, Carina. He assured me we’ll be staying in separate rooms.”
“What do you expect him to say? How do you know he’s not dangerous? Mysterious past, just moved to town. A drifter working in a Christmas tree lot—”
“I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just say that. He’s not a drifter, Carina. He owns the Christmas tree lot. He’s contracted with the store.”
“Yeah, well, for all you know, he could be a serial killer.”
“Now you’re being crazy. Besides, he’s too sweet.”
“Serial killers are always sweet. It’s how they lure their victims in.”
“Now you’re scaring me. Why can’t you be happy for me? Last week you were complaining that I was isolating. Now I’ve found someone and you’re unhappy about that.”
“That’s because it was just last week, Maggie. You don’t really know this guy. It’s too soon. I just don’t want to see your heart getting broken again. You’re so vulnerable right now. You’re just way too trusting.”
“I’ve never been too trusting.”
“Your husband had another family.”
I didn’t answer. It stung.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just mean, why don’t you spend a little more time getting to know the guy before you run off to another country?”
“Because I like him. Besides, we’ve already bought the plane tickets.”
“Whoa,” she said. “You’re really doing this. When are you going?”
“Sunday.”
“Sunday? When are you coming back?”
I felt a little embarrassed. “We’re coming back Friday.”
“You’re blowing me off for Thanksgiving?”
“I’m sorry. I felt like an imposition.”
“Which you’re not.” She sighed. “All right. I guess I can forgive you. Just don’t let him hold your passport. And I want to know the address of this condo.”
“I’m telling myself that your paranoia is misguided love.”
“It is love. And I want info in case you don’t come back.”
“If I don’t come back,” I said, “don’t come looking for me.”
Chapter Nineteen
Today the Stephenses returned from burying their son. How brightly some people shine in the darkness of adversity.
—Maggie Walther’s Diary
Saturday it was snowing again. Andrew called to make sure that I was okay, but, I think mostly to make sure that I hadn’t backed out of our trip.
“Nope, you’re stuck with me,” I said. “Are you in Denver?”
“Yes. Just clearing out of my hotel.”
“You don’t stay with your family?”
He hesitated. “No, that wouldn’t quite work.”
“How long does it take to drive to Denver?”
“Driving the legal limit or my limit?”
“Your limit. If you have one.”
“A little over seven hours.”
“What time will you be home tonight?”
“That depends on the roads. Apparently there’s a whiteout right now in Rock Springs. But the roads should be clear by the time I get there.”
“It’s snowing here too,” I said. “You didn’t stay very long.”
“No. I’ve only got a small window to visit.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“It’s complicated,” he said.
It snowed all day Saturday, which made me even more excited to go to Cabo. It also made me worry about Andrew’s drive. I checked the weather in Rock Springs. It looked bad. I was hoping he would make it home in time to come over, but now I was worried he might not make it back at all. At best, he would make it home at two or three in the morning.
The day dragged on. One good thing: I went downstairs and ran on my treadmill. Outside of shoveling snow, I hadn’t exercised for weeks. It felt good, though I was amazed at how quickly I was tired.
Around two, my neighbors, the Stephenses, came home. I saw them get out of their car and hold each other as they walked into their house. My heart hurt for them. I put down my book and went to the kitchen and baked them some more cookies. This time I made gingerbread cookies. They were still warm when I walked them over.
Mrs. Stephens answered the door. She recognized me. “How are you, dear?” she asked.
“I’m well,” I said. “Thank you. I brought you some cookies.”
She glanced at the plate I held. “But you already brought us some. They were a welcome treat to come home to.”
“I wanted you to have fresh ones,” I said. The truth was, I was afraid that her sister had already eaten them all. “Your sister told me about your son. I’m very sorry.”
She looked at me with gray, mournful eyes. “Thank you. He was our only son. A parent shouldn’t have to outlive their child.”
“I’m very sorry.”
“We’re grateful that we have the grandchildren. They’re going to be moving in with us.”
“It’s good they have you,” I said.
“It’s good we have them,” she replied. “Our son lives through them.” We were both quiet a moment, then she asked, “And how are you doing?”
“I’m doing better. Your coming to help me made a big difference. I was having trouble getting out of the house.”
“Well, with all this snow, it’s hard for everyone to get out. We’ve had a lot of snow this year,” she said. “I heard on the news it’s one of the snowiest winters of the decade.”
“I didn’t mean the snow,” I said. “I just didn’t want to go out.”
She looked at me thoughtfully, then said, “We were glad to help. If you ever need anything, just call.”
“Thank you for being a good neighbor,” I said. “Even when I haven’t been one.”
“You’ve been busy,” she said kindly. “You’re at a busy time of life.”
“I suppose so.”
“Have a nice Thanksgiving,” she said. “And thank you again for the cookies. They look exquisite. Bryan will be delighted.”
“My pleasure,” I said.
I walked back home thinking I would like to be more like her.
I called Andrew around midnight to see if he’d made it back to Salt Lake. Far from it. He told me that the roads had been worse than anticipated and he had just passed Rock Springs, so he wouldn’t be home until well past three. He said he’d still be at my house by ten. I told him to be careful.