“You did it.” Nora gave her the kind of smile that Leanne wanted to fold up and save in her wallet forever. A smile infused with respect and even pride. “Now if we get another flat, you can change it all by yourself. If you want.”
Leanne gave a tired laugh. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”
They drove the next few miles on the dummy spare—just wide enough and safe enough to get them off the shoulder—and exited toward a flyspeck gas station where they could get a new tire installed.
A single bell rang overhead when they pulled in.
The young man working the pumps leaned into the window and said, “Mechanic’s out for lunch. Be about forty-five minutes.”
He pointed across the road toward a low-roofed diner, the sign half lit, advertising “Hot Sandwiches & Cold Pie.”
“Well,” Leanne said, eyeing the building. She held up her hands, blackened from changing the tire. “Shall we trade tire grease for grilled cheese?”
Nora chuckled. “Sure, if they have milkshakes.”
As they ate their sandwiches in the diner—egg salad for her, grilled cheese for Nora—Leanne watched the men who came and went at the gas station, trying to guess who the mechanic was. But as she and Nora made their way back across the street and then the sunbaked lot to the station, she admitted she wasn’t sure if the man had come back at all.
“He’s back now,” the attendant said, waving a hand. “Told him to take care of your tire already. Should be done in a jiff.”
“Thanks.” Leanne gave him a smile. It wasn’t until they climbed back into the Lincoln and pulled onto the road that she glanced at the clock. Almost three hours gone.Damn it.She wondered if they’d make their next motel. Or if they’d have to give up and get a different place.
They drove in silence for a bit, dust curling behind them on the highway.
Nearly an hour later—Nora asleep with her head tipped against the window—Leanne realized something was wrong. Not with the car this time but with where they were.
The mile markers looked unfamiliar. The terrain wasn’t right. They were headed west, yes—but not toward the coast.
“Oh, no,” she muttered aloud, pulling over to check the map. Her stomach twisted.
They’d taken the wrong highway. Somewhere near Des Moines, they’d veered north. They’d been driving in the wrong direction. For an hour.
Between her mistake and the tire, they were five hours behind.
Rather than arriving in Los Angeles tomorrow night, they were more likely going to be getting there two days from now.Double damn it.
The next two days on the road, between Leanne’s panicking over her mother, being unable to reach her husband, and Nora’s sulking about missing the majority of the festival, the car ride was silent and sullen.
By the time the Lincoln rolled into the neon-lit lot of the Pink Flamingo Motel, the dashboard clock read 12:57 a.m. and they’d not exchanged a word in at least eight hours.
The sign flickered VACANCY in hot pink cursive. The building itself was stucco—faded blush with turquoise trim. Plastic flamingos dotted the patchy front lawn, glowing ghostly under the lights.
Neither of them said much, dragging their exhausted bodies from the car as if they weighed a thousand pounds each. They checked in with the night clerk, who had pink curlers in her hair and a black-and-white TV flickering behind the desk.
“Any chance you’ve seen an older woman with a dog?” Leanne asked.
The clerk glanced up, squinting her eyes. “Can’t divulge the identity of our guests unless you’re law enforcement.”
“Understood, but she is my mother. I’m looking for her.”
“Not since I started my shift this afternoon. Can’t say whether she was here before that. I was out sick.”
Leanne nodded and muttered a thank-you, trying not to let her frustration show. Only because of her sheer exhaustion did she not bang her hand on every door of the motel to see if her mother opened one of them.
Once inside their room, Nora collapsed first, face down on thepink flamingo comforter, while Leanne only halfheartedly washed her face and brushed her teeth before flopping down on the second bed.
Since they were running a little behind schedule, they’d missed their chance to go to the festival today. But at least they’d made it to California, and the festival was still going on tomorrow. Leanne fell asleep with the lights still on.
The following morning, they were up at dawn, eager, groggy, rushing to hit the road. And thankfully, Nora’s spirits had lifted at the prospect of catching the last day of the festival. Leanne’s was more like relief they’d made it and soon she’d have eyes on her mother.
