I wake early Sunday morning, anxious to start the day. I grab my paper and go tearing down the stairs, following my nose to the kitchen.
“Mom! GPS says it’s about 6 ½ hours to Buffalo.”
“Katie. Step back, I’ve got to take the coffee cake from the oven before it burns. So glad I thought to buy disposable pans. Go grab the giant serving tray please.”
The growing smorgasbord of goodness fills my eyes. “Mom, you didn’t think your banana strawberry crepes with home-made whipped cream with a side of healthy hard-boiled eggs would be enough? Ooh! You made your Sabina and Pac-Man home-made granola!! How long have you been up?” I reach for something. Smack! My hand stings.
“Katie. You know the rules. Don’t touch the food in the pink containers! I saved some granola for you. I know how much you love Sabina and the Pac.” She gestures over to the corner of the counter where a blue container sits. “The blue container is for you. Now, let me serve my cake. You know I can’t serve breakfast without my staple. Everyone loves coffee cake. If they don’t, they’re un-American.”
“What the heck does that mean?” Mom’s as weird as I am.
“I don’t know, it just sounds serious, and I’m serious about my baking.”
I lift the lid on the blue container and smell the granola. “I’m not worthy.”
“You’re ridiculous. Now go, get the tray please. At this rate, we’ll never get on the road.”
I run down the hall and whip open the closet door. Things start falling as I reach clear in the back for the long, narrow tray stuck up against the side. As I reach, my imagination goes into overdrive.
Reliable sources say the girl and her mother disappeared while looking for a serving tray in a closet in this house. Standing here today with me is JuneBug, the missing girl’s best friend. “Tell me JuneBug, what do you know about all this?”
JuneBug steps up to the microphone in all of her pink-haired glory, snapping and popping her signature bubble gum, chomping away mightily. “I came over here to go on an epic road trip that was going to be just Clash, and the house was empty. The oven was still on, but the coffee cake was sitting on the stovetop. All I have is a cryptic message from Katie; “all I wanted was a serving tray. Don’t come near the closet.”
“Katie!” Mom’s voice wakes me.
“Got it!”
“Well, don’t just stand there, bring it here.”
“Right.”
“Okay. Now put your paper down and focus. Grab the pitcher of OJ and the big thermos of coffee. Then grab the creamer and the sugar. You’re going to take all this on that tray over to the She-Shed.”
“Mom. Are you sure you want me to carry all of that without spilling it? I’m not the most graceful person.”
“Katie. Stop with the drama. You can do it. Just keep your head out of the clouds for like five minutes.”
I can’t help it. I stick out my long arms and start flapping like a dork. “But I love flying!”
“Katie! How soon do you want to leave?” Her words and sharp tone shut me up.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
Six minutes later, I’m carrying thirty lbs. of food out the back door. Somehow, I make it across the yard in one piece. I knock on the door.
“Oh, my gracious sakes. Look at you. Come in, come in!”
“Well, look at this tray of food. I don’t even know where to start.”
The lady sitting in the corner on her phone pipes up. “I know where to start. Do you have a website, because I’m giving you a five-star rating right now. You talk to your mom. You need to think about raising your rates, especially with this gourmet breakfast that I’m about to rave about. You tell your mom to keep up the good work!” Her ice-green eyes flash. “I’m Lydia, by the way.”
“Cool. Nice to meet you, Lydia. Let me set this tray down before I drop it.”
I look around and spy sparkly, red suitcases lined up at the door. Each suitcase has a bedazzled name across the front of it. “I love your suitcases.”
“That’s all Mrs. K’s doing. She’s the one with the style.”
Just when I think I’ve met them all, a lady steps into the center of the room. She’s all bright colors, from the scarf around her neck to the tips of her tiny heels. I look twice at her flowery velvet hat with its gold butterfly pin. I don’t have to ask, but I do. “You must be Mrs. K.”
She smiles and her whole face lights up. She tilts her head to the side. Her curls bounce as she strides across the room and sticks out her hand for me to shake. There’s just a little grip in her squeeze. She catches my attention as her bright blue eyes peer into mine. “Just call me Amanda.”
“Would you mind forming a group of your ladies for me to take a picture? I’d like to start a memoir scrapbook for my mom. This Airbnb means a lot to her. I’d like to add favorite guest pictures to the website I’ll be putting up very soon.”
“Sure. Give us about ten minutes to eat, and we’ll meet you outside.” Amanda says with a smile.
I run back to the house with the tray. “Here, Mom. I’ll be right back.”
When I get back to the She-Shed, Amanda has the ladies lined up outside. They stand behind their glittery red suitcases. I see the tall Welcome chalkboard sign that usually stands inside the door. “The Magicians” is scrawled across it in flowery writing with a banjo drawn in the corner and a few music notes. Amanda sets down the chalk and arranges everyone just so. She turns to me with a big grin. “I think we’ve got it. Thanks for the free advertising.”
“Yep. It’s a win-win.” I snap a few pictures. “Well, that does it. Safe travels.”
Lydia steps up. “Here’s your tip. We all chipped in.”
“Thanks!”
I rush back to the house to finish getting ready. I open my hand. I’m shocked. “Mom, they all gave me $20.00!” I pause. “You want to split it?”
Mom laughs. “I’m sure that wasn’t easy to say, Katie. Thank you, but no. You can keep it. Now I don’t have to worry about you spending your work money.”
“If you’re sure...” I run upstairs to my bedroom, yelling as I go. “I’m so psyched! This is like my first non-sports-related road trip. And JuneBug is coming!”
My mom laughs, coming up behind me. “Non-sports-related?”
“Yes. It’s not just a means to an end. No headphones this time. And my eyes will stay open. I want to see everything.”
I grab my suitcase and make-up bag and barrel down the stairs again. “Going to the car!”
I’m on my way to the car but stop mid-step when I spy movement on the street, out of the corner of my eye. He draws me like a magnet. My mouth drops open wide as I get an eyeful of a glistening, sweaty Oliver, cruising along with his headphones. Mudpie Mojo in the flesh jogs down my street. He’s so hot.
Words flow from my lips. “Oh Sweet tootsie roll torture. The boy can sure get my little heart to beating.”
I start for the car again, but my head remains cranked in his distracting direction. I trip over an imaginary rock, drop my bags, and grasp the air wildly as I right myself. I lunge forward in the most unladylike of manners. I’m relieved when my loss of balance finally ends. Please tell me he didn’t see that. Oh, but he did. I spy his telling grin as he waves to me. I don’t even try to be cool, as I wave weakly back to him, jerk my head down, and pick up my bags before resuming my walk to the car.
“Well played, Katie, well played. You’re just a regular Fred Astaire. Stupid golden Adonis.”
JuneBug’s burst of laughter burns my ears. “You are your own TV show!”
I spin around. “How much did you see?”
“All of it, tootsie roll.”
I answer JuneBug with a three-finger salute. “Read between the lines, JuneBug, read between the lines.”
She laughs out loud. “I think I’m rubbing off on you, Katydid! You ready for this trip, or do you need to go on some more about your Mudpie Mojo?”
“I’m ready to go.”
JuneBug chucks her stuff in the open trunk and calls out. “Yo, Mrs. Starbright! I’m here. We can go now!”
My mom glides to the car with the grace of a seasoned ballerina. “JuneBug. Maybe don’t announce to the entire neighborhood we’re leaving? Anyway, we aren’t leaving until Katie does her double checking. Go ahead, Katie.”
I should be offended, but I’m relieved. I rush into the house, and mutter as I go. “Oven, off. Coffee pot, off. TV, off. Water, off. All windows locked. Back door and side door locked.” I check the truck three times to be sure we have everything. “Okay.”
JuneBug pops off. “Settle down. We’re only going to be gone overnight. What could possibly happen that we are not prepared for? I think you got everything but the kitchen sink.”
“I need to be prepared so I can breathe, JuneBug,” I argue.
“For what, Armageddon? Brutus, here we come!” She taps the top of the truck. We pile in. My mom crosses herself and kisses her cross necklace. She prays for safety for our journey. I bow my head.
I make a note of the time. It’s 9:00 o’clock, which puts us there at about 2:30 p.m. if we make good time. I turn to mom. “Rules: No antiquing. We only stop for pictures of the shoreline along the Great Lakes. You are allowed two potty breaks in the next 6 ½ hours. You must go at least five miles above the speed limit at all times. Please.”
Mom nods her head. “I can deal with that.”