Chapter Twelve

“I really, really don’t want to go, but I don’t have a choice,” Sarah lamented to Karli on their way to the airport on Wednesday morning. “I absolutely hate to fly.”

It was mid-March, and Sarah had been tasked with traveling to Denver yet again to get a handle once and for all on the inventory counts coming out of the company’s second largest manufacturing facility.

“I know,” Karli said as she reached over to pat Sarah’s hand. “But it will be over with before you know it.”

“I thought that four months ago,” Sarah sighed. “Still hasn’t happened yet.”

“Well, the sooner you get your first book out there in the world, the sooner you can get some traction,” Karli reminded her. “And eventually, it will grow to a point where you can write full-time. You just have to keep working at it.”

She saw the drop-off area just ahead and moved to the right to pull up at the curb.

“You’ll be fine, Sarah. And I’ll pick you up when you land Friday night.”

“Thanks, bestie. Wish me luck.”

***

After a turbulent ride, and a miserable landing in snowy conditions that only enhanced Sarah’s negative opinion of air travel, she trudged to the baggage carousel and waited in a horde of people for her suitcase to finally appear.

And waited.

And waited, until only she was remaining from flight 156 that had arrived from Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport.

Her left eyebrow raised as she watched the carousel grind to a halt and her flight number disappear from the overhead monitor.

Well, that figures, she thought with a grimace, and pivoted to stride over to the concierge station.

“Hi. I think maybe my bag got lost,” she said, and offered the attendant her claim stub.

“Let me take a look,” the woman, whose name tag read ‘Cyndy,’ said with a smile.

A few keystrokes later, Cyndy confirmed Sarah’s assumption.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m so sorry, but it seems your suitcase got sent to New Hampshire by mistake.”

Now both eyebrows arched skyward.

“Oh, boy. How do we fix that?” Sarah asked politely.

“I’m just double-checking to make sure they already know to re-route your luggage,” Cyndy said briskly. “And… yes, I can see they’ve already noted it.”

“When do you think it will arrive?”

“That, I’m not sure of,” Cyndy answered apologetically. “You see, with the storm that’s coming in, I don’t know how many more flights in or out there will be today.”

Cyndy pulled a form out of a drawer, and continued, “But fill this out for me with your contact information, and we can call you when your suitcase arrives.”

Sarah completed the form, and when she handed it back to Cyndy, she mentioned, “I’m not from around here, I’m up here on business. The first address I listed is the hotel I’m staying in, but I’m supposed to fly home Friday afternoon.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure they call you once it arrives.”

***

Almost three hours after landing in Denver, Sarah was standing in the checkout line at the Wal-Mart about a mile from her hotel. She’d decided to purchase two outfits, just in case her lost luggage never showed up, and she picked up new toiletries, undergarments, and sleepwear in addition to a new suitcase to put it all in.

By the time she got back out to her rental car, the wind had picked up tremendously, with oversized flakes whipping furiously past her face at a forty-five-degree angle. It seemed to take forever to drive the rest of the distance to her safe haven for the next two days, and she sighed with relief when she walked into the hotel lobby.

Check-in went smoothly, for which she was grateful, and she thanked the desk clerk as she accepted her keycard and made her way to the elevator. Once she was safely in her room, she called Jodie, then Karli, to let each know she’d made it to her destination.

She spent the rest of Wednesday cross-checking the reports she’d run back in Fort Worth and identifying which inventory items would be part of the impromptu cycle count she was planning in the morning.

***

“Overnight shifts are my least favorite,” Tim muttered to Jordan as they pulled back into the station at seven a.m. “Takes me forever to get to sleep once I get home.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jordan agreed. “And just about the time I get used to them, we switch around again.”

“But not lately,” Tim pointed out. “This is how many in a row now?”

“Eighteen, I think.”

Tim sighed. “Meet you back here in twelve hours.” And he walked to his truck to make the short drive home and fall into bed.

***

Sarah showered and dressed, then sat on her bed, only half-listening to Denver’s most popular morning newscast as she brushed out her hair and put on her shoes.

It wasn’t until the meteorologist came on that the television got her complete and undivided attention. She grabbed the remote and increased the volume just in time to hear his words in conjunction with a very gnarly looking satellite photo of the state of Colorado.

“And if these two storm systems converge, ladies and gentlemen, we could see record high snowfalls over the next few days. The bottom line here is, use caution, and if you don’t have to go out in this stuff, don’t. Back to you, Steve.”

“Great,” Sarah muttered. “That’s the last thing I need is to get stuck up here.”

She sent up a quick prayer for the weather to hold until her flight left town on Friday afternoon, grabbed her purse, room card, and briefcase, and headed for the elevator.

***

Sarah finally made it back to her hotel around seven p.m. Although the plant was only fifteen minutes away, the weather had deteriorated so much that it had taken her almost two hours to make the drive back. By the time she slowly eased her rental car into the lot and parked, her nerves were shot.

Not to mention I’m not used to all this, she grumbled internally as she headed for a hot shower. I live in Texas, for Pete’s sake. When we get weather even remotely like this, we stay home.

She showered, changed, and just made it to the restaurant downstairs before they closed for the night. Knowing the staff was probably anxious to get home, she ordered her dinner to go, and made small talk with the hostess until her order was brought out to her.

“Ya’ll be safe,” Sarah said, and headed back up to her room.

As she ate her sirloin and loaded baked potato she reflected on her day. Inventory was definitely missing based on the cycle count she’d overseen.

And I don’t think it’s a receiving or unit of measurement error either, she acknowledged as she chewed. I think someone’s taking it home with them. Maybe more than one someone. I just can’t prove it.

Yet.