Page 5 of You Chive Me Crazy
Rolando’s eyes went wide. “Your life is about to change dramatically for the better. This issomeant to be!”
I sighed. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Seriously—this is one hundred percent fate that you’re staying at the Serendipity Inn,” Rolando said. “Something good’s going to happen to you while you’re there. Out of every negative comes a positive. Be open to all possibilities. You could meet the woman of your dreams and come back married.”
“Yeah, like that’s realistic . . . a week to meet someone, fall in love, and get married.”
Rolando scoffed. “Hey—I fell in love during a haircut.”
I crossed my arms. “And how did that work out for you?”
“Natasha never mastered the sideburns, but the real reason I broke it off with her was because she kept charging me for haircuts plus tips while we were going out.” He slid his hand across the top of his shiny dome and grinned. “I don’t have to worry about that anymore, now do I?” He laughed. “Anyway, you just wait and see. Nothing but good will come out of your change in plans.”
“The only good thing that’s going to happen is when that food truck festival is in my rearview mirror and I’m on my way back home,” I said.
And that couldn’t happen soon enough.
The thought of not going to Germany had me in a rotten mood as I drove home to load my suitcase in the trunk. That mood continued to sour almost the entire way to Big Bear Lake, as I wondered why I hadn’t quit my job three hours ago. I gripped the steering wheel tightly as I navigated the winding mountain road. I was still livid, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was on my way to a food truck festival. All because my boss thought my featured stories would get stale with the readers of the magazine.
I should be on a flight to Germany right now.
The festival, the castles, the bratwurst . . .
The scenery passed by in a blur as I fixated on my annoyance, but as I crested a hill on State Highway 18 and came up into a clearance, a sign caught my attention.
Lakeview Point Scenic Overlook.
Elevation 7100 Feet.
On a whim, I pulled over.
Maybe some fresh air would do me good.
Getting out of the car, I made my way to the vista point, where I was greeted by a panoramic view of the valley and lake below.
I took some deep breaths, trying my best to center myself and work through the anger I felt at the Dickster for botching my “working” vacation.
I inhaled another deep breath, feeling the fresh mountain air fill my lungs, the tension in my shoulders beginning to dissipate as I listened to the distant bird calls and the gentle rustle of the leaves in the wind.
The festival might not be my cup of tea, but the beauty and allure of the mountains couldn’t be denied. I loved the peace and tranquility.
I snapped a selfie for social media, then got back in the car to continue my drive. Unfortunately, that tiny injection of positive energy didn’t last long.
On the shoulder of the road up ahead, I spotted a food truck with the words POTATO HEAVEN printed on the side. Steam was billowing out from underneath the hood where it had obviously run into a tree. There didn’t seem to be major damage, most likely a busted radiator, but I wanted to make sure the person was okay. We were in the middle of nowhere on the mountain top and there was nobody else around.
Without hesitation, I pulled over to see if I could help.
A woman was in the driver’s seat, slumped over the steering wheel, her hair falling in disheveled waves around her face. She was muttering to herself, appearing disoriented as I approached.
“Are you okay?” I called out.
She glanced down at me through the open driver’s door, her eyes squinting against the sun, nodding slightly. “I think so . . .”
She didn’t sound very convincing.
“Come on—let’s get you out of there,” I said, reaching across her body to undo her seatbelt.
Instinctively, she held her hand in my direction. “There was a deer . . .”
