“YOU DON’T HAVE a reservation for Alexander Kimmel?” Alex stared at the young man with the unusual mop of unnaturally white-blond hair sticking up every which way. His name tag read Scooby, which somehow seemed appropriate. The car rental agent looked to be about ten years old.
Scooby flushed bright red. “I’m afraid not.” He glanced at his computer. “However, I expect a car returned anytime now. Do you want to wait in the bar?” He flashed a toothy smile, displaying multicolored braces.
Alex wished for his sunglasses, packed away deep in his carry-on. The combination of the hair and the teeth was just too much. He gripped the edge of the counter with both hands. Surely he hadn’t heard right. “Did you say you only have two cars?”
“Well, I’m just starting out.” Throwing his shoulders back, he pointed to the sign behind him. Scooby’s Rental Cars. “Before me, Shadow Falls Regional Airport didn’t have a car rental.”
Alex hated to point out the obvious to the enthusiastic car rental agent on the other side of the counter, but somebody had to give this guy a dose of reality. “But you don’t have any cars to rent.”
Scooby shrugged. “If I don’t get my car back in time, there might be someone in the bar who can give you a ride.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Alex pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to stave off the headache that threatened. He never should have come, never given in. Cyrus was supposed to pick him up. Instead, he had called, saying he had an emergency with a sick cow. A new vet was on call, and he had to be there. But the regional airport had a car rental agency. Alex could rent a car. With a deep breath, Alex opened his eyes and looked around the lobby. So much for reality. “Where’s the bar?”
Bar was spelled out in fake, multicolored glass in the top of a dark, wood-paneled door. Five backless stools, a short bar and three tiny red vinyl booths crowded a windowless space. Wheeling his suitcase next to the wall, Alex propped his hip on one stool at the end and glanced at the display of bottles behind the bar. One other customer hunched over a bottle at the far end of the bar. A curtain of curly black hair shielded her face.
“What can I get for you?” A middle-aged man in a faded green T-shirt and jeans wiped the counter in front of him.
Alex studied the labels, didn’t see anything familiar, then tilted his head toward the lone customer. “I’ll have what she’s having.”
Reaching into a glass-fronted cooler, the bartender plunked a sweaty brown bottle on the counter. “Headed in or out?” He grabbed his rag and continued down the counter, wiping in a circular motion.
Alex took a long swig before answering, the tangy brew waking up his mouth. He set the bottle on the coaster. “In.”
“Good thing.” He snorted. “They just canceled the last flight in for the day.” He tipped his chin to the ceiling. “Visibility. Where ya from?”
“New York.”
He nodded, then pointed at the bottle in his hand. “I hear hard cider is getting popular in the city. True?”
Alex twisted the bottle around until he could read the label and then realized the hard cider was the same brand he had been drinking just the night before. “As a matter of fact, hard cider is becoming very popular.”
“Do me a favor...” The bartender disappeared through a swinging door, reappearing a minute later with a plain brown bottle. “Try this and tell me what you think.” He pulled three tumblers from under the counter. “Hey, Sera, want to try something?”
Sitting in the shadows, the woman looked up at the sound of her name. “Okay.” She slid off the stool. “Just a little bit.” She grabbed a yellow poncho and a big purse, and put everything on the stool next to Alex, then sat. She gave Alex a wary look before turning her gaze to the bartender.
“By the way, my name’s Mike.” The bartender smiled as he emptied the bottle into three glasses. He set one in front of Alex and one in front of the young woman. “This is a taste test.”
Picking up the glass, she raised it to her lips.
“Hold on.” Mike held up his glass and shared a big smile. “To success.”
“To success.” Alex clinked his glass with Mike’s and then tipped his glass in the direction of the dark-haired woman. She looked at the glass, then at him and lightly touched her glass to his.
“To success.”
Alex sipped the liquid, swirled it around in his mouth and nodded. “Not bad. You removed the label.”
The bartender didn’t answer, instead waiting for Sera to give her response. She held the glass under her nose and sniffed. “You made this, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “I made this last fall. I call it Flying Apple. You like?”
“Very nice.” She smiled.
Alex watched the exchange. The woman was obviously a regular. And she was capable of smiling. Just not in his direction.
“You’re the first customers I’ve tried it on. My family drinks it, but they’ll drink anything.” Mike set a bowl of pretzels on the counter between Alex and the woman.
The door flew open. Scooby settled next to Sera. “I’ll have what they’re having, Mike.”
“Nice try, buddy. You know you’re not supposed to be sitting at the bar.” Mike raised one eyebrow at the shaggy-haired entrepreneur.
Alex upended his glass. He had to give the young man credit. Not even old enough to drink and he was starting his own business.
“I’ll just be a minute. I’m here on business.” He leaned forward and addressed Alex. “I just got a call. The car I was supposed to get in is stuck in a field. Go figure.”
In the act of swallowing, Alex choked. He pounded on his chest and coughed. Finally, eyes streaming, he turned back to the bar and squeaked out a response. “You’re kidding me.”
“It’s not his fault. Little Bear Creek’s at flood stage. Some of the roads are underwater.”
While Alex had been coughing up apple cider and leaning against the wall, they had been joined by a middle-aged man of average height with a dark beard. He sprawled in one of the booths. He wore a shirt emblazoned with the logo of the airlines and his first name. Mike tossed him a bottle. Taking a ring of keys from his pocket, Al took a healthy swig. “Looks like you’re gonna have to find yourself a ride, buddy. Soon as I finish my libation, I’m gonna put the airport to bed.” He took another long swig and smacked his lips.
Alex tipped his head back against the wall. When he got his hands on his cousin...
“Did the plane to Detroit get out?” The woman two stools over swiveled around and addressed Al. Her brow furrowed as she waited for the response. Alex’s dilemma was no concern of hers. And they say New Yorkers are unfriendly.
Al nodded. “Your brother made it out in the nick of time. They canceled the last flight in, so the airport’s closing. What do you expect? There’s a hurricane moving up the East Coast, and central Pennsylvania is on the outer edges. We get flooding. No big deal. Happens every spring.”
“Good.” Her stool scraped against the wooden floor as she stood and shrugged into the yellow poncho.
“What am I supposed to do?” Alex had the distinct feeling, of the four locals in the bar, the woman, Sera, was his best chance at finding a solution to his problem. But the guarded expression on her face as she paused—the bright vinyl puddled around her neck, emphasizing the blackness of the curly hair—had him rethinking his conclusion.
She pulled the poncho down, slipped her hands through the holes and shook her head, sending curls flying in all directions. “Where are you headed?”
Hope sparked in his chest. Maybe