Part 12 (1/2)
”Not unless you're planning to drive at the same time” was Emma's reply.
”Oh, that famous Cresswell sense of humor,”
Sam remarked, settling in for a good sleep.
Emma drove for the next hour listening to cla.s.sical music and daydreaming about Kurt.
When she first saw the snowflakes, she rea.s.sured herself that they were just blowing around and didn't appear to be sticking.
But within a few miles the weather had changed drastically. The air was thick with whirling snow, and an icy layer of white had already started covering the road. Emma touched the brake pedal and felt the car fishtail. A tingle of fear ran up the back of her neck.
”Sam, wake up,” Emma called to her.
”Wha-wha?” came Sam's sleepy voice from next to her.
”Wake up!” Emma commanded, using her best Katerina Cresswell voice. No one could sleep through that.
”What?” Sam said irritably, rubbing her eyes.
”It's snowing,” said Emma, trying to stay calm as she wondered how she was going to pull over safely. Everyone was going so fast! Couldn't they see that the road was slick?
Sam sat up. ”All right!” she cheered. It was the first snow she'd seen in a year. She'd forgotten how invigorating a good snowstorm could be.
”Sam, I mean it, I'm going to have to pull over,” came Emma's steel-edged voice.
”What's the big deal?” Sam asked, stretching.
”It's just a little snow.”
”Please, Sam, you don't understand,” Emma said, gulping hard.
Sam finally focused on how weird Emma was acting. Her voice was shaking, her shoulders were hunched over, and her knuckles were white where her hands gripped the steering wheel.
”But, Em, you grew up in Boston and Switzer- land, for Pete's sake! You must know how to drive in the snow!” Sam asked.
”Well, I don't!” wailed Emma. ”I wasn't allowed to! Lawrence or one of the school's chauffeurs always drove me when it snowed!”
”You're kidding,” Sam said.
”No, dammit, I'm not kidding!” Emma yelled.
The car fishtailed again as Emma tried to slow down. Up ahead, cars were braking.
”Look,” said Sam, leaning forward, ”it's easy . . .”
They were fast approaching what looked like a traffic jam ahead.
Sam continued, trying not to alarm Emma, ”Whatever you do, just don't slam on the-”
Emma slammed on the brakes.
Immediately the wheels locked and skidded on the slick road. The car went sliding toward the knot of cars ahead, making a soft crunching thud as the b.u.mper of Emma's car hit the fender of the car in front of them.
Emma sat there for a second, dazed, then she and Sam got out of the car. The driver ahead, an older woman, met them by the fender. The woman wore snow boots and appeared to have on a warm-up suit topped by a plaid car coat and a red tam-o'-shanter spangled with large mirrored sequins. Both Emma and the woman began to a.s.sess the damage.
Emma's car looked like it would come away with only a scratch or two on the b.u.mper. But the other woman's fender was deeply dented, mashed all the way up into the wheel well, though miraculously not pressing on the tire.
”My insurance will take care of this,” Emma told her. ”I'm just so sorry.”
”Don't feel bad,” said the woman, the pompom on top of her hat bobbing as she spoke. ”I almost did the same thing to the car in front of me. Let's just hope the police get here before too long.
Mitzi has an appointment at the beauty shop. I'm Camille Baker, by the way.”
Sam and Emma introduced themselves. Sam, glancing in the back window of Camille's car, thought she was seeing things: a miniature tarn, exactly like the one Camille was wearing, popped above the back seat, then vanished again.
”I suppose we can go ahead and trade insur- ance information,” said Camille. ”We can all sit in my car. There's plenty of room and Mitzi just loves to meet new people.”
The mystery of the vanis.h.i.+ng tarn was solved when Camille opened the car door to a round of maniacal yapping. A bug-eyed chihuahua, wearing a matching red tarn and sweater vest, greeted Camille with a series of canine acrobatics.
”This is Mitzi,” said Camille. ”Mitzi, say h.e.l.lo to the nice girls.”
Mitzi greeted Emma with a bounding pirou- ette. But Sam, climbing into the back seat, found herself nose to nose with a snarling miniature Cujo.
”She doesn't like redheads,” apologized Cam- ille. ”I don't know why. That and nail-biting are her only faults.”
Sam and Mitzi maintained a standoff in the back seat while Camille scribbled down insurance information and rattled on about the fortune that could be made in bite-resistant doggie nail polish. It was a very long twenty minutes before a squad car got to them.
After accomplis.h.i.+ng all the necessary paper- work, Emma found the policeman, an Officer Leeman, fixing her with a questioning gaze.
”Miss Cresswell,” said Officer Leeman, ”I called your license into our computer bank-purely routine, you understand. But I'm afraid you'll have to come with me to headquarters. Your friend can follow along in your car.”
”Am I being cited for the accident?” Emma asked.
”No, ma'am,” said the policeman. ”We're put- ting that down to hazardous driving conditions.”
Emma was cold and tired and she wanted to get to a hotel. ”So what is the problem, then?”
”The problem,” Officer Leeman said, ”is that you are listed as a missing person.”
Everyone was nice enough at police headquar- ters, but Emma had to put up with some chiding for not having gotten in touch with her father.
Even Sam got into the act.
”It was stupid,” Sam said bluntly. ”It wouldn't have hurt to check in from Savannah. You knew then that he was looking for you. If you'd just done that, we wouldn't be sitting in this stupid police station right now.”
That remark burned Emma. // Sam doesn't understand about my family by now, she thought, there's no point in trying to explain.
The real irony of the situation was that her father wasn't even reachable. According to Rosa, the housekeeper for the Palm Beach residence, he and Valeric had taken off for some island- hopping in the Caribbean. The fact that Emma left a message for him satisfied the highway angry at Sam for not understanding her, and angry at herself for being so wimpy. Where is the new, carefree Emma? she wondered.
7 wish Carrie were here. Emma stared out the window morosely. / need some mature advice, and Sam is not exactly the person to give it to me.