Further digging and googling led to a possible address in Bugle, Tennessee, a small dot on the map south of Murfreesboro. Since McKenna could only find one bed and breakfast in the area, she assumed it was the one his mom ran. But the website hadn’t been updated in years, and every time McKenna called the number listed on the website, a befuddled man named Gus answered.
The first time he’d seemed helpful, confirming that yes, he knew Nate Lambert, and yes, he’d be happy to give Nate a message to please call back.
But then when hours passed without Nate calling back, and McKenna tried reaching out again, Gus was... well, less helpful—to the point that she wondered if he suffered from some sort of dementia.
Who did you say you were looking for again?
Nate Lambert. You said you knew him. You said he was there. Remember?
Nate Lambert? Hmm... Name does sound familiar. Pretty sure I went to school with a Lambert. You’re not looking for the Freddy Lambert I went to high school with, are you?
Is there anyone else I can talk to?
About what?
A ring. A very important ring. One I desperately need returned to me. He’ll know what I’m talking about if you could just—
Well, honey, I can’t say for certain that Freddy’s still alive, but saying he is and saying I see him, I’ll certainly tell him to give you a ring. You take care now.
After he hung up, she’d panicked. Who wouldn’t? She’d never forgive herself if she lost Momma J’s ring. She didn’t even want to think about explaining the loss to Oliver.
So when his follow-up chest X-ray had shown a little congestion—nothing bad and deathlike, just enough that the doctor wanted to start antibiotics and monitor his lungs a bit longer—McKenna decided to bite the bullet and fly to Tennessee to track down the ring herself while Oliver was still none the wiser that it had gone missing.
“You should call the police.”
“Huh?” McKenna realized she had zoned out on Mr. Sullivan’s ramblings. “The police?”
“Let them handle everything.” He lifted the handset from the office landline.
“And what exactly would I tell them? Hi officers, I shoved a ring down a man’s pants and now he won’t take my calls.”
“Police deal with things like that all the time.”
“I am not getting the police involved,” McKenna said, gently taking the handset and returning it to the phone cradle.
“Well, you can’t just run off to Tennessee. Not by yourself. Not on a plane. It’s too dangerous. What if the plane crashes before youget there? What if he’s a criminal when you do get there? Maybe he stole the ring on purpose.”
“The plane won’t crash. And he’s a ponderer, not a criminal.”
“That sounds even worse. Have you forgotten the triplets’ birthday party next Saturday? Triplets, McKenna. That means there’s three of them.” He held up three shaky fingers in case she apparently still wasn’t clear on the definition of triplets. “And then there’s the bar mitzvah in less than two weeks.”
“I’ll be back in plenty of time for all that.”
“These are some of our biggest bookings of the year.”
“I know.” One of the reasons she was bored and dreaming of working for a wedding photography business in LA. “I wouldn’t go if I didn’t think I’d be back in time. But don’t forget, we have Kristi too.”
McKenna had finally convinced Mr. Sullivan to hire part-time help for the summer. She hadn’t told him this yet, but she was hoping he’d train and mentor Kristi the same way he’d trained and mentored her, so that Kristi could slide right into McKenna’s position after she left.
Well, assuming McKenna’s application got accepted and assuming her sister got engaged and assuming she found the ring so that her sistercouldget engaged and McKennacouldsubmit her portfolio so that her applicationcouldget accepted.
Even McKenna would admit that was an awful lot of assumptions.
“My flight leaves Omaha early Monday morning. I should get to Tennessee early afternoon. Once I have the ring, I’ll find the earliest available return flight to bring me back home. Bada bing, bada boom.”
“Bada bing, bada boom. I suppose that will do. Back by Tuesday?”
“At the latest.” Hopefully.
