She shrugged. “A car, if you’ve got one.”
“I do, but it’s on the other side of the lake.”
“I can pick you up in a couple of hours,” Sandy said as she pocketed the money.
He gestured at Amy. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, if you can get an Uber or something, it’ll cost you a fortune. And they are sanding the roads. That makes it at least an hour around the lake. Sure you don’t want me to pick you up?”
“No!” Amy cried.
Harrison smiled apologetically and peeled off another twenty for Sandy. “I don’t think she’d survive it.”
“Thanks,” Sandy said, and pocketed the extra tip. “Good luck to you.” She went back to her boat, leaving them stranded on the wrong side of the lake.
Harrison returned to Amy. At least she was upright and was attempting a smile, although it was tremulous. “I wasn’t expecting that to happen. I’m so sorry.”
He sat beside her. “I think we’re going to have to call your mom to come get us.”
“Oh no,” she said, and closed her eyes. “No no no. There must be another way.”
“I’ll ask inside. But look around this place—it’s practically deserted. I think it might be hard finding a rideshare.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, and looked like she might cry.
“No need to apologize. Not your fault that she drove like a maniac pirate. Want to go back now or see what’s on the menu? Are you up for that?”
She nodded and stood up. “I must be the lamest dinner companion you’ve ever had. You should have brought the Bossy Posse with you instead.”
“Are you kidding?” He took her hand in his. “They scare me.”
“Finally! Now you’re getting it.”
He was getting it, all right. He wasn’t the least bit put off by Amy’s sudden purge. If anything, it somehow endeared her to him even more.
20
All the warm fuzzies Amy had felt yesterday morning, all the little fantasies of a different sort of life, had been obliterated by today. From the pool party to her vomiting on the boat, her reality had crashed back in with ferocity. Since when did she suffer from motion sickness? And why did she have to discover it today of all days?
The Lakeview Café was a renovated lake cottage and had been decorated for a country Christmas, the windows painted with snowy scenes. There were pine-cone wreaths in the windows, and a pair of antlers over an old fireplace had been decorated with Christmas lights and tinsel. A vintage Coca-Cola box was painted with Santa drinking from a bottle of Coke, and the gifts under the Christmas tree in the window had been wrapped in burlap.
The waitstaff all wore Santa hats, and unlike at the lake house, the music here had more of a country bent. A man was singing about how he intended to leave a beer for Santa as Amy washed up in the restroom with the concrete sink and hardwood floors.
When she felt as returned to normal as she could hope to get with a flimsy soap dispenser, she joined Harrison at their table. The waitress appeared after a moment. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Water, please,” Amy said. She dared not test her stomach on a drink.
Harrison asked for tap beer.
“You got it.” The waitress handed them two long, laminated menus.
“Are you okay?” Harrison asked.
“Yep.” Amy forced a smile. “I mean, other than the permanent stain of humiliation in my cheeks.”
“And I thought that was blush.”
They looked over the menu, commenting on the chicken-fried steak, the burgers, the green-chili enchiladas. Amy decided on soup now that she knew her stomach would betray her without any notice. Harrison opted for the burger.
