Page 2 of Her Surprise Vacation Date

I turn around and spot the young man standing about ten feet behind me with his arms crossed over his chest. Standing in front of him is a little girl with red hair like mine, eyeing me with her hands on her hips. Apparently, they’re not the onlyones on edge over my packing dilemma. Several other passengers also glare at me as if I’m the one thing preventing them from starting their vacations.

Gulp.That’s probably because I am.

With my cheeriest teacher voice, the one I reserve for parents who bring in sweet treats for their children’s birthdays and leave me to deal with the resulting sugar highs, I call out, “Thank you for your patience, everyone! You guys are the best! I just need to lighten my load a little bit, then I’ll be good to go!”

When I turn back to the counter, I yank my bag off the scale and proceed to open it. Before I can get the zipper undone, I hear Mr. Frank clear his throat.

“What is it that you’re attempting to do, miss?”

I wince under his scrutinizing gaze. “I’m going to wear some of the clothes I packed.”

“Nine pounds worth of clothes?”

“Y-yes?” I croak out, quickly losing my confidence. Who am I kidding? This plan is never going to work. I might as well fork over my wallet now.

“Fine, fine. But do it over there.” Mr. Frank shoos me off to the side with a wave of his hand. With a resigned sigh, he says, “I’ll hold onto your boarding pass. Come back to the front of the line when you’re ready and I’ll weigh your bag again.”

My spirits rise as I reach over the counter to shake his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Frank! You’re the best ticketing agent that ever lived!”

With a spring in my flip-flopped steps, I grab my luggage off the scale. Then I squeak my way off to the side—did I mention the luggage is almost as old as me?—and get to work. It’s not an easy feat, but I manage to put on a pair of jeans over my leggings—which I’m now so thankful for!—then myfavorite cream-colored sweatpants over the jeans, along with two skirts—a knee-length and a maxi. Next, I layer on four T-shirts and a long-sleeve top beneath my hoodie, then top them all off with a navy bomber jacket I found from my last thrift store hunt. I throw in two pairs of socks, along with a black sneaker, into each of the jacket pockets for good measure.

By the time I’m done, I’m bundled up more snugly than a bug in a rug. I’m also overwhelmed by a delicious blend of fragrances from Amelia’s gift that now permeates through my luggage. The scents also linger on my clothing, lifting my mood. As I zip up my bag, I say a prayer of thanks to the Lord for turning this situation around. I’m ninety-nine percent sure my bag is under the weight limit now. If it isn’t, I’m going to have to resort to desperate measures and checkmyselfin.

That’s right. Just toss me onto the conveyor belt and let it carry me off into the sunset.

Mortification soon replaces my sense of accomplishment. As I head back to the ticket counter, there are two dozen eyes on me, watching my every wobble. Somebody even has the gall to chortle. At least there’s one kind soul who takes pity on me and shooshes the chortler. The only bright side is that these bystanders are complete strangers who will likely forget about me by the time they reach their destination.

Or so I hope.

By the time I make it over to weigh my bag again, my cheeks are on fire. Thankfully, all my work pays off and I get a nod of approval from my buddy Mr. Frank when the scale tips in at exactly 50 pounds. My fellow passengers are also kind enough to give me a standing ovation as I make my way past them in line.

“Thank you, thank you!” I call out before bidding them goodbye.

After going through security, I locate my gate and find thenearest seat to plop down in. With fifteen minutes to spare before my flight takes off, I decide to call Amelia and check on her progress.

“Hello?” a weak voice answers the phone after four rings. “Who is this?”

“Ames, it’s me. Are you okay? You don’t sound so good.”

“Oh, hey, Hope.” A gagging noise comes over the line. “I think I have food poisoning or maybe the stomach flu. Either way, I was stuck to the porcelain throne all night long. You should be glad you’re nowhere near me right now because I look like something the cat dragged in. Which, by the way, is the strangest saying. It makes no sense at all because cats are such clean creatures, right? Ugh, hold on!”

“Ames?” There’s a clanking on the other end before the line goes silent. I’m sitting on the edge of my seat now, wavering between worry, disgust, and more worry. Poor Amelia! I’ve never heard her sound so sick before. We often joke that the two of us have immune systems of steel—hers from working as a nurse and mine from being surrounded by kiddie germs. Between us, we’ve probably been exposed to every virus known to man. It’s surprising that she finally succumbed to an illness, and on the first day of our vacation, no less! This trip is so not starting out well for either one of us.

“Sorry about that.” Amelia’s back on the line, sounding wearier than before. “I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say that I’m a shade of green even you wouldn’t like.”

“That’s not possible. I love all shades of green. And you’re my best friend. I wouldn’t care if you looked like a cross between Kermit and the Hulk right now. You already have such pretty green eyes. You might as well have the complexion to match.”

She chuckles softly. “Thanks, Hope. You sure know how to cheer me up.”

“It’s good to hear you laugh, Ames, but is there anything I can do? How about I call you an Uber to take you to the hospital?”

“Please, no. Work is the last place I want to be at right now. All I need is to get some rest and stay hydrated. I’m sure it’ll pass in a few days.”

I swallow hard. In a few days? What does this mean for our vacation?

“I’m really sorry for ruining our trip, Hope.” Amelia’s somber tone lightens as she continues, “but don’t you worry. You’re still going to get an awesome vacation. I already called for backup.”

“Backup? What do you mean?”

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