Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
This fucking sucks.
Every minute feels like an hour as we move through dark, stormy clouds. Just when I think I can’t take it for another second, we break through the clouds and the ground appears, shrouded in fog and mist. I have no idea where we are, but I’ve never been so happy to see the ground. Five minutes later, the pilots execute a flawless landing.
As relief floods my system, the others cheer.
“Thank God,” Natalie whispers.
Couldn’t have said it better myself. I may never fly again after that.
The PA system crackles to life. “Welcome to Saint George, Utah, where the local time is four oh two p.m.”
I look across the aisle. “Addison.”
Addie leans forward so she can see around Hayden.
“What do we know about Saint George, Utah?”
“Nothing yet, but I’ll get right on it.”
She whips out her iPhone and starts clicking away.
I turn my attention to Natalie. “Sorry about this, sweetheart. It’s not exactly what I had planned.”
“It’s an adventure, and what does it matter where we are? We’re all together, and we’re alive. There’s a lot to be said for that.”
“Indeed, there is.” I decide right then and there to let go of my plans and preconceived notions about the perfect Christmas and let it unfold in whatever way it’s meant to. I’m with Natalie, my sister and my closest friends, and we were safe after a harrowing flight. I couldn’t care less what happens next.
After the pilots inform us that we’re done flying for the day—and possibly tomorrow, too—Addie works her magic and finds the one motel in town that can accommodate all of us. When the owners hear who their guests are, they send people from town to pick us up and deliver us to the Castaway Inn—a fitting name in light of our predicament.
Addie had arranged to bring days’ worth of food and booze with us on the plane so we wouldn’t need to worry about grocery shopping when we got to Aspen. We bring everything with us to the motel.
The place is clean but basic, one of those roadside places in which the doors open into the parking lot and the rooms are adjoining. Not exactly the accommodations we’ve become accustomed to, but the certainty we were going to die on that plane has put us all in a festive mood. Fluff sniffs every square inch of the place and apparently finds it to her liking. She curls up in a ball on our bed and is snoring within minutes.
We throw open the connecting doors inside the rooms, and before long, we’ve got a full-on party going. It’s a good thing we’re the only guests, because we’d probably get kicked out if there were others.
By six o’clock, it’s snowing hard and accumulating rapidly.
Over the next two days, the weather only gets worse, and we begin to accept that Christmas in Aspen isn’t going to happen. Nat’s sisters and the rest of my family are grounded, too, and we’ve been in touch with them to commiserate about best-laid plans.
We’re passing the time eating, sleeping and playing the board games we found in a closet in the main part of the motel, which also has a kitchen the starstruck owners made available to us. Even Rafe has been more enjoyable than usual, which is a relief as we’re stuck in close quarters. Despite the close quarters, I’m still getting plenty of time alone with Natalie, which is the best part of being stranded.
If I’m being honest, this is the most relaxed I’ve been in longer than I can remember. There’s absolutely nothing to do but be together, which is perfect in its own way. Aileen, who had a mini freak-out when she realized we’d be stuck here for Christmas, told the kids that Santa will find them, but it may not be right on Christmas Day since we aren’t where we’re supposed to be.
Thankfully, they seem to have accepted that explanation as they decorated the “Charlie Brown” tree the guys managed to find in a deserted tree lot down the street from the motel. The kids spent the day making paper snowflakes and other improvised decorations. The gifts the rest of us brought on the plane for the kids are underneath the tree for Christmas morning. As Aileen said, Logan and Maddie are far more accustomed to “sparse” Christmases than they are with a windfall, so they’re perfectly content with what they have.
Late on the afternoon of Christmas Eve, I find Natalie in our room, standing at the window, watching the snow that shows no sign of slowing down. I slip an arm around her from behind, resting my chin on top of her head. “How do you feel about Christmas in Saint George, Utah?”
“As long as you’re in Saint George, it’s fine by me.”
“This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to give you a magical Christmas.”