Page 139 of Book and Ladder
After a morning that felt endless, I finally step out the door with only ten minutes to spare. My maps app says nine minutes to the address—that is, if I don’t get stuck behind June Honeycutt. She drives like she’s practicing for the Amish buggy races.
Two of my neighbors appear, veering up my walkway with celestial-prank-level bad timing. It’s official. I’m firing my guardian angel.
“Heya, Daisy. Do you have a minute?” Rose asks.
“A minute,” I say.Exactly a minute.
“We’re passing a petition,” Claire says, clipboard in hand.
Rose launches into a ramble about land preservation and how Conrad O’Connell sweet-talked half the town into a bad decision. Her voice drifts like porch gossip on a lazy afternoon.
“We want a revote,” Claire explains.
“I’ll sign,” I cut in. “I need to go or I’ll be late.”
I could tell them a revote won’t likely happen. The ground’s already been broken. But I don’t have time to get into any of that.
Claire’s pen hovers just out of reach.
Rose keeps talking—something about “fighting the good fight” and “what’ll become of our children’s children.” She could be a filibuster.
“Slow down, Daisy,” Claire says with a sage tone. “Life’s short enough without you sprintin’ through it.”
“I know. I’ve just got somewhere to be.”
“Ah don’t we all,” Rose says. “But you aren’t doin’ yourself any favors living in a hurry.”
“Amen,” Claire says, finally thrusting the clipboard at me. “Sign here.”
While I scrawl my name in record time she says, “Yes siree. If it’s not a wedding or a funeral, there’s no rush.”
My heart’s racing. I can feel the seconds ticking away. Why did I leave myself no leeway?
“I’ll be savoring. Slowing down. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I start to walk away.
“Your address, Daisy,” Rose says. “They need your address or it’s not official.”
I pivot, writing my address so quickly, I’m surprised smoke doesn’t come off the tip of the pen.
“Okay. There you go,” I say, practically trotting to my car.
“Slow down, Daisy!” Claire shouts.
“Savor the moment!” Rose chants like a motivational speaker.
I send them a thumbs up, fire my engine and tear out of my parking spot like I’m at the starting line of Nascar. A glance at my dashboard tells me it’s already five minutes after noon.
Patrick’s going to think I’m a no-show.
I come to a rolling halt at each stop sign along the way, taking off every time before it’s fully legal.
My eyes flick to my rearview.
No.
No. No. No.
Red and blue lights swirl on a police car.
