Page 8 of The Maine Event

I want to scream, to throw my phone across the airport, but I force myself to calm down. Losing my cool won’t solve anything.

I glance out the window, watching planes that were supposed to be departing return to the terminal to offload their passengers. None of us are going anywhere.

Two weeks in Vacationland. You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not jumping for joy.

The taxi swerves through the crowded streets of Portland, and I lean forward, scanning the buildings for any sign of a hotel vacancy. I try looking again at the multitude of travel apps I have on my phone, but everything is grayed out, mocking me with a ‘sold out’ banner. The driver glances at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes sympathetic.

“Tough luck with all these flight cancellations, huh?” he says, shaking his head. “Seems like everyone’s stranded.”

I nod, my attention still focused on the passing storefronts. “You wouldn’t happen to know of any hotels with available rooms, would you?”

He chuckles. “Wish I could help, but I’ve been driving folks around all day, and every place is booked solid.”

I slump back against the seat, my mind racing. I can’t spend the night wandering the streets of Portland. I need a plan.

As if on cue, my phone rings. It’s my mother. I hesitate for a moment before answering, bracing myself for the inevitable barrage of questions.

“Rachel, honey, are you alright? Your sister told me what happened with your flight.”

I sigh, rubbing my temple. “I’m fine, Mom. Just trying to find a place to stay for the night.”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t be like Mary and Joseph and end up in a manger. Why not just rent a car and come join us at Lake Michigan? We’d love to have you.”

I’m not sure Mom fully comprehends just how far I am away from Wisconsin. “Mom, it would take me days to drive back to… Hang on? You’re with Claire?”

“Yes, when they dropped you off at the airport, Richard drove over and asked if I’d like to take your spot. So here I am. Between you and me, I think they just wanted a babysitter, but I’ll not look a gift horse in the mouth. Come on, join us.”

The thought of spending the rest of my vacation with my family is tempting, given that the alternative is spending it alone in a strange city. I’m about to give Mom’s suggestion some serious consideration when the taxi passes a massive industrial complex, the sign reading “Harcourt Foods” in bold letters.

Suddenly, an idea takes root in my mind. Harcourt Foods is one of the largest frozen food manufacturers in the country. If I could land them as a client…

“Rachel? Are you still there?”

I snap back to the present. “Yeah, Mom, I’m here. Listen, I appreciate the offer, but I think I’m going to stay in Portland for a bit. There’s something I need to take care of.”

“Are you sure, honey? We’d really love to see you.”

“I know, and I promise I’ll make it up to you. But this is important.”

There’s a pause, and I can almost hear the wheels turning in her head. “Well, alright then. I can’t say I understand you at all. Promise you’ll call if you need anything?”

“I will. Thanks, Mom. Love you.”

As I hang up, I lean forward, tapping the driver on the shoulder. “Actually, could you take me to the nearest car rental place?”

He nods, merging into the turning lane. I sit back, my mind already formulating a plan. Partnership or not, I’m not leaving Maine empty-handed.

Harcourt Foods, here I come.

The car rental place is a hive of activity, with frazzled travelers scrambling to secure vehicles. I join the line, tapping my foot impatiently as I scroll through my phone, gatheringas much intel on Harcourt Foods as I can. Their CEO, Jonathan Harcourt, has something of a reputation as a die-hard traditionalist. Referred to as ‘Old Man Harcourt’ by friend and foe alike, he’s certainly not known for his commitment to innovation and sustainability. A poultry industry stalwart, it’s going to be a hard sell to convince him to diversify from the frozen chicken nuggets that built his empire.

But… thanks to my market research for GreenShoots and IncrediBurger, I have data. Lots of it. Compelling, detailed facts and figures that show a shift in eating habits and a growing demand for plant-based alternatives. If I can pitch CGPR as the agency to revamp their public image and convince him that plant means profit, it could be a game-changer.

Lost in thought, I startle when the clerk calls, “Next!”

I step up to the counter, flashing my most charming smile. “Hi there. I need to rent a car, preferably something electric, compact, and efficient.”

The clerk, a young man with a name tag reading “Ethan,” looks at me apologetically. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’re pretty much out of everything due to the flight cancellations. The only vehicle we have left is a pickup.”

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