Page 5 of Snowflakes and Sparks

The lady at the car rental place at the airport had kindly warned me about occasionally not getting any reception in this area, especially not when it was snowing. She’d urged me to buy a map from her, probably afraid I’d die out there without one.

And now it looked as if I would die anyway, map or no map. I could just imagine the paramedics wheeling me out of there, my body frozen, map still clutched in my hand with a grip so strong and stiff they’d have to break my fingers to remove it. There’d be a young journalist interviewing the sobbing car rental lady, who told the viewers she had tried to save me by selling me a map, but to no avail. I sighed. Was this my punishment for ruining Christmas all those years ago?

While I was battling with the map, I saw a flash of lights approaching me. I squinted my eyes and realized it was a police car. They were going to save me! I fist-pumped the air and leaped out of the car, makingplease help memotions with my arms.

The police officer stopped the car and walked toward me.

“Hello there, miss. I’m Doug. What seems to be the problem?”

“Thanks so much for stopping, officer. I thought I was going to freeze to death here,” I replied like a true drama queen.

He threw me anare you seriouslook and arched his eyebrow. “It’s forty degrees at the moment. I don’t think you have to worry about freezing to death. If that is your concern, then why don’t you continue your journey? Did your car stop working? Should I call a tow truck?”

“No, it’s just that I’m having trouble reading directions. I’m not from around here. I live in L.A.”

Gosh, I sounded ridiculous. As if one’s ability to read directions was tied to a location instead of basic intelligence.

“Where you headed?” he asked.

“Old Pine Cove,” I replied.

“Don’t you worry. The town’s not far at all. Fifteen minutes tops in this weather. Why don’t you hop back into your car and follow me? I’m headed there anyway and it’ll solve your fear of freezing to death.” He winked at me, amusement written all over his face.

Even though being escorted by a police car wasn’t what I had in mind for my return to Old Pine Cove, it did sound better than spending another hour going in circles.

“Thank you, that’s really nice of you.”

I slammed the door of my rental car shut. Only fifteen more minutes before I could soak in a hot bath and let all the stress I’d experienced over the previous days wash away. No matter how much I told myself that this work trip was going to be easy peasy, I still wasn’t convinced.

I got back on the road and followed the police car. I would’ve never been able to find the town by myself. Doug turned left, right, right again, went straight ahead, took some more twists and turns, and only then did we pass a sign announcing we’d reached the city limits.

The town looked just as I remembered it. Beautiful snowy mountains made for a breathtaking backdrop. A weathered sign pointed tourists in the direction of the snow globe factory and another led folks to the ski resort and slopes, about fifteen miles to the north.

A couple of minutes later, we approached the town square. I cringed when I spotted the place where I had crashed Alex’s truck all of those years ago.

A group of people were gathered in the snow-covered gazebo and as the police car came to a halt, they all turned their heads toward our cars.

One of them got up and approached us. She was wearing a long red coat with a matching wool hat and gloves. She had a clipboard under her arm and a look of determination in her eyes.

“Did you catch a criminal, Doug?” I heard her ask the police officer while she kept staring at me without a trace of shame.

“Just a lost lady,” Doug replied with a laugh.

He motioned for me to get out of the car. I quickly averted my gaze and pretended to study something on my phone, even though I couldn’t even get one bar of reception, let alone a Wi-Fi signal.

He came closer and knocked on my window. Doug clearly didn’t know how to take a hint.

I reluctantly stepped out and greeted the lady in red. She creased her forehead, then pointed a gloved finger at me. “Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.”

“I believe she’s an actress,” Doug replied before I could speak. “She’s from Hollywood, this one.”

“Actually, I don’t live in Hollywood,” I said.

I explained that Los Angeles was more than just Hollywood and that I lived in Omaha Heights, but neither of them seemed to pay any attention to me. The word Hollywood did seem to have piqued the others’ interests. A dozen people spilled out of the gazebo and crossed the patch of snow to get a closer look at me.

“What movies did you do?” someone asked.

“Was it that movie with Mel Gibson?” the lady in red wanted to know.

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