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Blair: No. I’ve been thinking about it ever since we first talked about it. I’m going to call a real estate agent tomorrow. It’s time. Past time really.

Katy: There’s a condo for sale in my building. You should check it out. It would be fun to be neighbors.

Blair: I will.

Katy: Now that you’re leaving the nest, what else are you going to do with your freedom?

My eyes caught on a poster I had over the desk. It was a road map superimposed over the Route 66 sign. Next to that was a faded pennant for the Boston Red Sox, my grandfather’s favorite team. We used to watch games together when I was a little girl, and I’d always dreamed of going to Fenway Park to see a live game.

Blair: I’ve always wanted to go on a cross country road trip. Or take any vacation really. I want to go to Fenway Park and see the Red Sox.

Katy: Ooh, that would be fun. There’s so much to see in this country, and road trips are the best way to do it. You should go next week while the Foundation is closed for remodeling.

Blair: That’s a good idea. Otherwise I’ll just be stuck in this house listening for the boogeyman with my parents.

Katy: Do it! I wish I could go with you, but I promised my mom I’d do that hot springs weekend with her. But you should definitely go. Get a taste of your new freedom.

Blair: It’d be good for me to do something on my own, but there’s one problem. I can’t drive, remember? How am I going to go on a road trip?

Katy: I know someone who could help. Let me make a call and get back to you.

Jenny

“Jenny? Are you back there?”

I looked up from the magazine I was reading in the drivers’ lounge to see my father standing in the doorway. He ran this place and was technically my boss.

“Hey Pops, what’s up?”

He glanced disapprovingly at my feet, which were currently perched on the tabletop. With a sigh I moved them to the floor, set the magazine down and sat up.

“We got an unusual request.”

“What kind of request?” I asked.

“Some rich lady wants to do a cross country road trip. She’s looking for a driver to take her from here to Boston. She’s a friend of Katy Houghton,” he said, referencing the daughter of the man who owned this company.

“Boston? For what?”

“She wants to see the Red Sox play live at Fenway Park.”

“Is she afraid to fly or something?” I asked. “Why a road trip?”

“I guess the woman’s been kind of sheltered and wants to experience the real America.” He made air quotes around the last three words. “Requested a female driver, for obvious reasons.”

“I’m not the only female driver here,” I reminded him.

“She’s paying double the daily rate, plus hotels, a food stipend, and a twenty thousand dollar bonus if the passenger makes it to Boston.”

I frowned. “Why wouldn’t she make it to Boston?”

He shrugged. “No clue. But we’d be stupid to turn down that kind of money. The bonus alone would be enough for you to put a down payment on a house like you’ve been dreaming of.”

It was true. I’d been scrimping and saving for years trying to buy a house in Seattle’s ridiculously expensive housing market. A week on the road with this woman would mean the culmination of my dream, a house and garden of my own. Pops owned his own place, and I knew I’d inherit the home I’d grown up in after he passed, but I wanted something I’d earned myself. Somewhere I could hang pictures and do whatever I wanted to with the yard. Maybe have a family someday…

“Are we driving both ways?” I asked.

“No, Ms. Houghton will fly you both back to Seattle on the corporate jet.”