behind it is the quaint little downtown, lined with local shops and restaurants. Macie is going to love this place. There's just something about it that feels like home.
Aiden
"Roger, I'm telling you, these places don't like the hard sell." I grab my coffee and swig down the last of it. It tastes terrible but I needed the caffeine. I couldn't find a coffee shop so I had to settle for coffee from the one and only gas station I passed since crossing the Vermont state line.
"Tell him that story about your grandfather and that hotel he had," Roger says, a smile in his voice. "The old guy will eat that shit up."
"It wasn't a hotel," I say, annoyed he can't remember. I've told him the story at least three times, including last week when I requested this assignment during our meeting. "It was an inn, just like this one."
"Even better. I have a good feeling about this. We'll get the place for cheap, renovate it, and make a fortune."
"We don't even know if he's willing to sell," I point out, slowing down as I approach the town.
"He'll know when you're done with him."
"I'm not sure this is going to happen by Sunday." I roll down my window to get some fresh air. It's something I don't get in the city. I breathe it in as I take in the view in front of me. There are trees everywhere, sugar maples that are starting to show hints of red, orange, and yellow. A white steepled church is just up ahead and beyond that is what looks like a tiny downtown with old brick buildings. It's a beautiful town. It looks like a painting, or like one of the puzzles my grandparents did with me when I was a kid.
"Make sure to talk me through the details before you write up the deal," Roger says. "When did you say it was built?"
"Not sure. Hold on, I'll check." I reach over to the passenger seat to my messenger bag. I pull out the research I did, setting the stack of papers on the dash. I stop at a red light and rifle through the papers, searching for the inn's historical records. Someone honks and I look up and see the light turned green. I take off and the papers on the dash go flying out the window.
"Shit!" I look in the rear view mirror and see the papers flying around behind my car.
"What is it?" Roger says. "What happened?"
I sigh. "My research just flew out the car. I'll look up the date when I get to my room. It won't be long. I'm almost there."
"Just email it to me."
"Yeah, I will. Talk to you soon."
Sophie
"I can't see!" I yell, getting my wipers going to clear away the paper that just flew onto my windshield. The wipers only make it worse. The papers stick to them, making them slow to a stop and leaving my windshield covered right where I need to see. "I can't see the road!"
"What's going on?" Bianca asks.
I slam on the brakes, making the car behind me honk. The guy goes around me, rolling down his window and yelling at me as he passes.
"I have to go," I tell Bianca. "Some idiot let all this paper fly out of his car and it's stuck to my windshield."
"Paper? What are you talking about?"
"I'll tell you later. I have to go."
I'm in the middle of the street so I pull off to the side so people can pass. I get out of my car and start yanking the paper from my wipers.
"I can't believe this," I mutter to myself. "Of all the crazy things that could happen."
"Excuse me, ma'am?"
I look up and see a police officer walking toward me.
"Oh, sorry," I tell him. "I just need to clear my windshield and then I'll go. I couldn't see to drive."
"That's not why I'm here," he says, "although I do need you to move your vehicle."
Does he not see that I'm trying? I'm yanking off the ripped pieces of paper as fast as I can.
"Ma'am, I need you to move your car," the officer says.
Why does he keep calling me ma'am? I'm 29. I'm not old enough to be a ma'am. I scrunch the paper into a ball and look around for a garbage.
"I hope you're not thinking about tossing that," the officer says, pointing to the wadded up paper in my hand.
"No, of course not," I say, offended he'd think I'd litter. I