Promises To Keep. Shirley Hailstock
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Osbourne was McKenna’s oldest friend. “I don’t think you can make a trip like this alone,” she said.
“There,” Sara seized the comment as consent that Lydia was in her corner. “Lydia’s right. What woman do you know who wants to drive from here to Los Angeles alone?”
“And on roads that are cracked, overgrown with weeds or so badly in need of repair they’re essentially nonexistent,” Adrienne said.
“You’re not going to talk me out of this,” McKenna said. “I’ve planned it for a year and I’m leaving in ten days.”
“Ten days,” Adrienne said. “This car may not make it from here to California. That’s got to be...”
“2,400 miles along Route 66,” McKenna finished for her. “And I know every single part of this automobile. I have personally installed every part, every piece. I know what its purpose is and what it needs to keep it working properly. This car is better equipped for a road trip than anything any of you drive.” Her comment was a challenge and she didn’t care how they took it.
There were drawbacks, but McKenna didn’t know what they were yet. She chalked that up to being part of the adventure.
“At least take someone with you,” Lydia said.
“The car’s only got two seats and no trunk to speak of,” Sara observed. “Where are you going to stay and how can you even put one suitcase in this thing, let alone one for another person?”
“Only you would call a fully restored ’59 Corvette a thing, Sara. I’m not planning on taking much. I want to travel the land the way the two guys on Route 66 did it.”
“I thought Route 66 was a road?” Lydia asked.
“A defunct road,” Adrienne added.
“It’s an old television series, with two guys traveling the roads, finding work where they could, and having a wonderful time,” McKenna explained.
“I never heard of such a thing,” Sara said.
“It was before our time, but I watched the reruns on Nick at Nite,” McKenna said. She’d watched them while Marshall was ill. It played in the hospital and she felt as if those two guys had kept her sane during an insane time.
“Isn’t that a children’s television station?” Adrienne asked.
“During the day, but at night they play vintage programs. The guys were Buz and Tod and they were the hottest thing going during the late ’60s. They traveled that road working and meeting people along the way.”
“How would you know? You weren’t even born then.”
McKenna was tired of explaining herself. She was going and that should be that. “The internet,” she finally said, unwilling to go into how much she had read on the subject, the books, songs, associations she’d joined, not to mention the two Disney movies surrounding that road that came out only a few years ago.
“All of this is because of some fifty-year-old television program? I cannot believe you,” Sara said.
McKenna clenched her jaws. At this moment she could strangle Sara. She wanted her friends to approve of her trip, not plant doom in her head.
“Sara, the show was only part of the inspiration for the trip, but it’s something I want to do. I’d forgotten about it until I started watching those reruns.”
“Sara has a good point, McKenna,” Lydia said. “Have you given this enough thought? There are hundreds of things that can go wrong on the road. And trying to work your way to LA. How long do you think this is going to take? And what about emergencies?”
“I’ll deal with them. If I can build a car, I can certainly drive it.”
Lydia looked the car over with the eye of a teenage greaser. “It’s very low to the ground. Those roads haven’t been maintained in years, if ever. You’re likely to have trouble with the muffler and oil.”
“I can handle it.”
“If you get someone to go with you, I’d feel better.”
“How about you going with me?” she asked Lydia.
“What?” Lydia said. “I can’t—”
“Why not?” McKenna interrupted. “What are you doing for the next few months?”
“I have a job.”
Lydia was a dressmaker by profession. She had a shop attached to her house and Sara worked there, too. They mainly did wedding gowns and big-ticket dresses for wealthy clients.
“Sara can run it while you’re gone. You have a staff of people who make and alter the dresses. You’ve been doing management and client relations for years. And you haven’t had a vacation since I can remember.”
“Wait a minute,” Sara said. “You’re not considering this?” she asked Lydia.
“Of course not. I can’t just up and leave.”
“Lydia, it’ll be fun,” McKenna said. “The two of us, the wind in our hair, a car that any man over thirty would drool over. Just think about it. The open road. No cares. No deadlines. No one screaming for your attention.”
Lydia considered it for a moment. She walked around the car, checking inside at the upholstery and smallness of the interior.
“Fine,” she said. “We’ll be like Thelma and Louise.”
“No, we won’t,” McKenna exclaimed, her eyebrows raised in protest. “The Grand Canyon is several hundred miles north of any part of Route 66.”
“I was kidding,” Lydia said.
McKenna’s shoulders dropped. “Lydia, I’ve been thinking about this ever since Marshall died.” She faced Sara and addressed her. “It’s something I want to do. I have to do it. Don’t burst my bubble now.”
“I know you’re slightly off your rocker,” Lydia spoke up. “But it’s good to give life a jolt once in a while, instead of waiting for it to do it to you.”
“Now she’s got it, too,” Sara said. “You’re both crazy.”
“The car’s only got two seats,” McKenna pointed out, ignoring Sara. “We’ll be traveling light and that means no men.”
“But Tod and Buz had women. Why can’t we have men? Thelma and Louise had men, too, only they killed them,” Lydia said.
“I draw the line at murder, but pretty much everything else is fine with me.” McKenna smiled.
Lydia and McKenna grinned at each other. And then they grinned at Sara and Adrienne. After a moment, they all burst into laughter.
TWO MORE DAYS, McKenna thought, leaving the store. The last thing she needed for the trip was a lightweight jacket. She’d found one that was warm, but not bulky. It was red and swung inside the bag she carried.
She stopped along Main Street to look in the window of a small boutique. A royal blue gown expertly displayed on a mannequin stood in the window. McKenna gasped at its beauty. She could see herself wearing it. If she was going to a ball, it would be perfect. But her car was small and now she had a passenger. There was no room for anything superfluous. Not even a gorgeous royal blue gown would fit into the single bag she was using for this trip.
Not to mention her plans didn’t include any evening functions requiring such a dress. Turning away, McKenna wasn’t expecting anyone to be so close to her. She ran directly into the massive chest of a man. Strong arms came out to steady her. The bag dropped to the ground as her fingers grabbed and found hefty biceps and held on.
“I