The Only Solution(10)

"What sort of business did you have in Phoenix?" she asked, before she  realized that it wasn't the most tactful of questions. "Sorry. Not my  affair."

One dark eyebrow rose slightly. "I don't see why you shouldn't ask," he  said mildly. "Though whether you're really interested in the answer  might be another story. The Burgess Group put some money into an  expansion for a firm there. It's a venture-capital deal, the development  of a new product, and since it's more adventurous than most of our  investments, I'm keeping a close eye on how things are going. Not a very  exciting affair, I'm afraid."

She arranged the baby over her shoulder to burp her, and Mack's hand  brushed Wendy's cheek as he drew his finger out of the baby's grasp. He  didn't seem to notice, but the touch felt like a trace of fire to Wendy.

He leaned forward to look across her and out the window.

The engine pitch had changed; they were on final approach, and snow was  pounding steadily against the glass. Wendy could barely see lights below  them. If these conditions were acceptable for landing, she hated to  think what it must be like at O'Hare.

Rory whimpered, and Wendy patted her back and murmured, "Just another few minutes, darling, and we'll be safe on the ground."

"For a while," Mack added.

She watched, fascinated, as the airplane taxied toward the terminal.  She'd seen snow before, of course, but never like this. There seemed to  be a million tiny white darts pounding silently against the window,  coming from all directions.

The flight attendant was using the intercom. "Please remain seated until  we are at the gate and the engines have stopped. There will be an aid  station set up in the center of the terminal to assist passengers with  lodging or other travel arrangements."                       
       
           



       

"Damn," Mack said. "I was afraid of that."

Wendy was puzzled. "Isn't that good? They could just leave us on our own, couldn't they?"

The plane reached the terminal and pulled up to the gate. Mack stood up  and began retrieving their coats from the overhead bins. Wendy  reluctantly interrupted Rory's feeding and tucked the bottle safely  away. When the engines died, she gathered the baby up.

"Put your coat on," Mack ordered.

"We're just going from the plane to the terminal."

"The gate will be cold."

She obediently handed the baby over so she could slip her trench coat  on. Mack ignored Rory's protests and wrapped her in a blanket like a  mummy.

He wasn't joking; the frigid air inside the ramp between plane and  terminal almost took Wendy's breath away. "I see what you mean," she  gasped and hurried toward the building.

It was the smallest and oldest terminal she'd ever been in, but it was  blessedly warm. As they passed the security gates, Mack paused and  looked around. "There," he said. "To the right."

He had the advantage of height, and Wendy couldn't see what he was looking at. "You've spotted the aid station?"

"No, the bar." He slipped a hand under her elbow and strode off down the hallway.

Wendy had to lengthen her step a bit to keep up. "I can understand why you'd like a stiff scotch, but – "

"I don't want a drink, I want a television set and a weather report."

"Why?" She was trying to unbundle Rory as she walked.

"Normally, with O'Hare closed because of snow, they'd just refuel the  plane and hold off a while to see if conditions change enough so the  airport can reopen. The fact the airline is already starting to arrange  hotel rooms means they're pretty sure O'Hare isn't going to be open  again tonight."

"So?" She uncovered Rory's face; the baby blinked uncertainly in the light.

The bar turned out to be large and open and airy  –  more like a coffee  shop than the dim, smoky little retreat Wendy had expected. One side of  the bar was lined with big windows; Mack held a chair for her at a small  table well away from the expanse of glass. "If the storm is as bad as  it sounds, it could be well into tomorrow before O'Hare is back in full  operation, and maybe not even then. We could be stuck right here."

"Through Christmas?" Wendy looked around in distaste. The bar wasn't as  bad as she'd expected, but a holiday spent in conditions like these was  not an inviting prospect. And a hotel room would be a small improvement,  at best.

"For days, possibly."

"Surely it can't go on like this."

"I've seen storms like this end in a few hours, or go on for a week. The  problem is that by the time we find out it's getting worse instead of  better, the roads will be impassible, too. But if we leave right now,  before the highways close..."

"And just how do you suggest we do that?"

"Haven't you ever heard of rental cars?"

"Mack, if it's not safe to fly, why are you even considering driving in  this?" She waved a hand at the windows. The snow was peppering down; it  looked heavier than before, and the way it swirled across the lighted  windows made Wendy feel dizzy.

"Honey, this is nothing, yet. Believe me, I've been on the roads in far worse conditions. But by tomorrow..."

A waitress came to the table, and Wendy ordered pineapple juice. When it  arrived, she poured part of it into Rory's bottle, but the baby didn't  seem interested. It was past time for a more solid feeding, Wendy  realized. No wonder liquids hadn't seemed to satisfy her.

"Besides," Mack said, "do you really want to go through another takeoff  and landing with the human altimeter screaming in your ear?"

Wendy sighed. "Not exactly."

"That's what I thought. Neither do I." And as if everything was settled,  he gave her a cheerful smile, picked up his coffee cup, and moved to  the end of the bar where he had a better view of the television set.
                       
       
           



       




CHAPTER FOUR



From Mack's point of view, Wendy thought, there probably wasn't a shadow  of a doubt that all the important decisions had been made.

She dug a box of baby cereal out of the carry-on and asked the waitress  to find her a small dish. By the time Mack rejoined her, she'd mixed  juice with the cereal and was starting to feed Rory.

"I guess you're not ready to go," he hazarded.

Wendy didn't even bother to answer. "How does the weather look?"

"Not bad at the moment, but the storm's coming down from the north, so  the sooner we start the better off we'll be. While you finish feeding  Rory, I'll go round up a car."

He hadn't been gone long when a couple in their thirties came into the  bar. The woman stopped to coo over Rory, who grinned obligingly and let  cereal trickle down her chin. "Were you on the marathon flight from  Phoenix?" the woman asked.

"I'm surprised, with the noise Rory made, that you needed to ask."

The woman laughed. "Have they found a room for you yet?"

Wendy shook her head.

"Better get out there fast, then. With Christmas and everything, there  aren't a lot of rooms available in a town this size, and they were  talking about asking people to double up."

Wendy's feelings about driving to Chicago took an abrupt turn. If Mack  couldn't find a car, they might end up spending the holiday in the bar.

An hour later she was beginning to feel panicky. Rory had long since  gobbled her cereal, polished off the pineapple juice, and gone to sleep  in a makeshift crib Wendy had created by pushing two chairs together.  When Mack finally came in, Wendy couldn't decide whether to scream at  him for being gone so long, or hug him with joy because he hadn't  abandoned them after all.

Hug him? What a thought. She must be even more tired than she'd realized, to dream that up.

"Finished?" he asked. "The car's already warm, but wrap the baby up well."

Rory protested sleepily as she was settled into her safety seat once  more. Mack gathered up the carry-on bag and his briefcase and started  for the main entrance.

The automatic doors opened before them, and frigid air cut through  Wendy's coat and whipped Mack's hair. "Is it always this cold here?" she  gasped.

"It's the wind chill you're feeling. It really isn't all that cold, or it wouldn't be snowing."

"What do you mean, it's not really cold?"

"Something about the relative humidity. I don't remember the details, but sometimes it actually gets too cold to snow."

"Oh, I'm tickled to know that."

Mack grinned. The sparkle in his eyes was as bright as the stars  –  if there'd been some visible for comparison.

"You seem to feel better," Wendy murmured.

"Of course I do, now that I'm back in control of my life."