Page 34 of Easton Island: Old-Fashioned Christmas
Naomi hit the straightaway and crested a small hill. Her glimmer of hope evaporated. The road was closed, literally snowed shut. “Dear God, what will I do?”
She thought about her conversation with Priscilla, who was now snug as a bug in a rug, safe and warm hunkered down at Easton Estate.
Once again, she turned around, but this time, Naomi got caught in a drift. Her car sat with tires spinning and going nowhere.
Pure panic set in. Naomi flung the driver’s side door open. Leaning left, she looked behind her. She’d backed over a tree limb. The only way out was to clear the path.
She sprang from the vehicle and hurried to the limb. Gripping it with both hands, she dragged it out from under her vehicle.
Returning to her car, she shifted into drive and made the short trip back to Locke Village. She passed by the library, thinking there was a slight chance the village had kept it open for shelter.
The snow-covered parking lot sat empty. “Now what?” Naomi closed her eyes, praying she would find someone who could help her. She drove to the corner and idled at the stop sign.
“Morgan.” On her way to Locke Village, she’d noticed Morgan Easton’s SUV parked in Looking Glass Cottage’s driveway. Perhaps she had power. Naomi could plead for mercy and beg Morgan to take her in. Surely, she wouldn’t be heartless enough to turn someone, even an islander she didn’t care for, away.
What if Morgan isn’t there?Naomi forced the thought from her mind. She was running out of options. The only thing left was to return to her cold, dark house, pile on the blankets and hope for the best.
“Please let Morgan be home,” she whispered before turning toward the shoreline and Looking Glass Cottage.
Chapter 15
Morgan paced at the end of the sidewalk. The clock was ticking. She needed to get the last few guests, the stragglers, to the harbor before the ferry left for its final trip to the mainland.
She glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time. The hum of an engine caught her attention. Greg, behind the wheel of Locke Pointe’s spiffy new passenger van, coasted to a stop. He hopped out and hurried around the front. “You’re still here?”
“Still here and waiting to head to the ferry.” Morgan grimaced. “There’s no way I’ll be able to drop the passengers off at the ferry and make it to the airport in time.”
“We’ll divide and conquer,” Greg said. “You head to the ferry, and I’ll take the others to the airport.”
“But I told you I would handle it.”
Greg patted her arm. “We’re a team. I’ll have plenty of time to take care of the last-minute chores before packing up and driving into town to pick up my mom.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” he said. “I see them coming now.”
A wave of relief washed over Morgan. Sure enough, the final four guests emerged and hurried to where she and Greg stood waiting.
“I’m sorry. We were running behind.” Bailey, the youngest guest in the group, jogged toward her, an anxious look on her face. “My mom is the slowest packer on the planet.”
“I wanted to make sure I got everything.” The older woman shot her daughter an aggravated look. “It’s always rush, rush, rush.”
Morgan tapped the top of her watch. “We’re running out of time. Captain Davey called a few minutes ago asking how much longer. The last ferry to the mainland is leaving soon.”
Bailey’s jaw dropped. “Oh my gosh.” She grabbed her mother’s arm and began dragging her toward Morgan’s SUV. “If we get stuck in this snowstorm, it’s all your fault.”
To her credit, the woman picked up the pace, moving with a sense of urgency. Morgan lingered long enough to make sure Greg and his passengers were on their way.
Driving as fast as she dared on the icy roads, it was a tense ride to the other side of the island.
They arrived to find Captain Davey standing at the end of the dock. Not bothering to park, she swung around and pulled alongside him.
“Sorry we’re late.”
“I was getting ready to give up on you.” He helped Morgan with the women’s bags, handing them off to the dockhands while the mother and daughter followed close behind.
Morgan cast a worried glance skyward. Thick, dark snow clouds swirled, spitting out huge snowflakes that drifted to the ground. A whip of wind tossed her hair into her eyes. “It feels like we’re on the precipice of disaster.”
