The Brightest Star - Fern Michaels Page 0,35
back inside her warm car with printed instructions on how to install the boxes. With luck, she’d have Internet service before bedtime.
Lauren was distracted as she pulled into the grocery’s parking lot. The place was jam-packed, which was unusual at this time of day. Must be having a sale. She grabbed the reusable bags she kept in the back seat and rushed inside, where she was greeted by the smell of burnt coffee and freshly baked bread. Lauren grabbed a shopping cart, noticing that there were only a few left, and pushed her way to the front of the store to find out why they were so crowded at this hour. Voices buzzed throughout the front of the store. She was able to discern that folks were concerned about the weather, hence the need to stock up on supplies. Not having heard an updated forecast since the morning, she was somewhat surprised, especially when she spied Scott Murphy pushing a cart down aisle seven. “Hey,” she said when she caught up with him, “what’s the latest weather report? I’ve been out of touch this afternoon.”
Scott Murphy, Madison’s husband, seemed surprised to see her. “Lauren Montgomery, long time no see.” He moved his shopping cart to the side and gave her a quick hug.
“Sorry, it’s good to see you, too. I stopped by the school today and saw Madison,” she said after she placed a friendly kiss on his cheek. Scott was the brother she had never had.
“She told me.” He motioned for her to follow him. “Let’s get out of their way.” Two elderly women with carts overflowing tried to pass through the narrow space between their two carts.
In the back of the store, near the produce section, Lauren positioned her cart next to Scott’s. “I take it the weather report isn’t what we’re used to around here.”
“A rare winter storm,” Scott said. “Ice.”
“No wonder,” she said, glancing at the crowd. Concerned her flight would get canceled, she’d call the airline just to make sure. And if the flight was canceled? Surely John Giampalo wouldn’t fault her if she were unable to travel due to weather.
“Madison called with a list.” He indicated the supplies in his shopping cart. “I’m betting this storm won’t produce much, but it’s good to be prepared.”
Lauren eyed the items he referred to. “Looks like the healthy stuff is all sold out?” She grinned.
“Yep. Just in case the weatherman’s right,” Scott said. “I’ll tell Madison I ran into you. She’ll ask if I invited you over, so if you’re brave, pop over later. We’ll have plenty of munchies, and we could have a glass or two of wine.”
“Thanks, but I’d best get what I came for and go home. Tell Madison I’ll try to call her later.” She gave him another hug, then maneuvered her way to the front of the store.
The shelves were emptying quickly. She spied the cereal she had come for, took four boxes of her father’s favorite brand, plus a large container of oats. She grabbed an extra two gallons of milk, three loaves of wheat bread, a giant jar of Peter Pan peanut butter, and a jar of Welch’s grape jelly, even though she was sure her mother had plenty of homemade jellies stored in the pantry. Remembering her time in Florida during hurricane season, she also picked up a case of bottled water, three packs of various-sized batteries, and two cigarette lighters. They would be easier to use if they ran out of matches. Actually, she had no clue if her parents had matches in the house. Mom didn’t like candles burning as she had a massive fear of leaving them unattended and starting a fire. This never made a lot of sense to her since they always used the wood fireplaces throughout the large house. Finally, as she made her way to the long lines at the front of the store, her cell phone rang.
“Yes, hello?” she said.
“It’s James. I told you I’d call if there was news about your friend.”
Lauren smiled. “Thanks so much. So how did it go?”
“I convinced the chief of staff to have another look at her medical files; he contacted her oncologist, and they’ve agreed to keep her a few more days. And there’s a chance I can get those indigent funds applied toward her bone-marrow transplant. Of course, your friend has to agree to this, but all in all, good news.”
“That’s wonderful news. I can’t thank you enough.” She paused, unsure if she