Page 5 of The Runaway Bride of Blitzen Bay (Blitzen Bay)

Chapter Three

NOELLE

December 20

Los Angeles, California

“Hey! Hey! Security!”

As I slam my car door, I start running after a security guard cruising through the parking garage in a golf cart. The airport’s impossibly crowded. It took me longer than usual to find a parking spot. My mom’s plane landed three minutes ago. I’m at least a quarter-mile from the terminal. She waits to text me until the plane parks at the gate. I check my phone again. No text yet, but I know it’s only minutes away.

The guard stops and turns around as I close in on him. “You okay, ma’am?”

“Not really. My mom just landed and if I’m not there to greet her when she gets to the baggage area, I’ll have to hear about it for four straight days until she leaves on Sunday. Will you please give me a ride?”

He chuckles but shakes his head. “Sorry. I can’t have civilians in this vehicle.”

He says it like he’s driving a tank. It’s a freaking golf cart.

I smile and tilt my head. “That totally makes sense. It’s just that my mom’s already going to lecture me on what I’m wearing and how my hair looks. I’m trying to limit her ammunition a little bit.”

He nods as he glances in the rearview mirror. “My mom always tells me I’m losing hair. I see her at least once a week and she says it every time like she’s counted each hair and knows when one’s missing.” He moves the notebook in the passenger’s seat and nods toward it. “Get in. At least one of us should have some peace this Christmas. What airline?”

“Delta,” I say as I jump in. My entire body tenses up as my phone buzzes.

Plane at gate.

Mom texts like they charge by the word. I don’t reply. She puts her phone back into her bag the moment after she texts. She never requires a response—even in face-to-face communication.

Even though the security guy’s pushing the golf cart to the absolute limit, I think I could have run faster. I finally see the Delta terminal as we round a corner. He screeches to a halt, almost sending me through the windshield.

“Good luck with your mom,” he says, grabbing my arm to steady me.

“Thank you so much! Seriously, you saved me.” I look over my shoulder as I run toward the doors. “And by the way, I think your hair looks amazing! Merry Christmas!”

I bob and weave through the holiday travelers until I get to the base of the escalator. I’m there about ten seconds when I see Mom descending. I don’t even have to look at her face—the stiletto red leather boots paired with the impossibly skinny black pants could only belong to her. As she comes into full view, I see she’s wearing a matching red leather jacket that she has buttoned way too snugly at the waist. My mom can’t weigh more than a hundred and twenty pounds, but somehow she still manages to wear clothes that are too tight for her.

She sees me. I smile and wave. She does neither.

“Hi Mom,” I say, reaching my arms out for a hug as she walks off the escalator. She hands me her Louis Vuitton roller bag instead.

“Noelle! What are you wearing? You look like you came from the gym. I’ve told you before that casual wear is meant for exercising only. It should be on your body five minutes before you leave for the gym and five minutes after you get home. Did you not have time to change after aerobics?”

“I was doing yoga, but no, I haven’t been home yet. We can stop by our apartment before we go to the wedding venue so I can change.”

“I told you I wanted to go to the venue immediately after I landed. You should have planned accordingly. I don’t trust the wedding planner at all. What’s his name? Connor? He doesn’t seem to understand my vision. And when did you start doing yoga? I knew California would be no good for you the minute you told us you picked that hippie school. Why you didn’t go to UGA I will never understand, but I guess you wouldn’t have met Steven unless you came here. His mother and I talk all the time about how we need to get you out of California and back to the South. This state is corrupting your mind.”

She’s walking at least five feet ahead of me like she knows where the car’s parked. I run to catch up with her, pulling her bag behind me. She’s already on the phone with Connor, telling him we’re on our way. I can almost feel his anxiety through the phone. We finally get to the car. I click open the locks on my doors and Mom gets in. I try twice to lift her bag into the trunk before some guy takes pity on me and lifts it in. Mom hasn’t looked back once. She’s still on the phone.

My phone beeps and starts playing “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.” It was Grandma’s favorite Christmas song. I close my eyes and take a deep breath—one hour down, only about a hundred more to go.

Mom’s on the phone almost the entire way to the venue. I purposely take the route that leads through Beverly Hills. Displays of wealth make Mom very happy. She sighs as we drive past Rodeo Drive. My stress level starts to go down a bit but then I turn onto Laurel Canyon. As we start climbing, Mom abruptly ends her conversation with Connor.

“Noelle! Where are you taking me?” She throws her phone into her Louis Vuitton Carryall.

“We’re going to the wedding venue. It’s only like a mile further.”

“Did you change the venue without telling me?” She looks at me like she thinks this is a possibility.

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