Tricky curves ahead

After three years of grieving, it’s finally time for widow McKenna Wellington to take that long-awaited road trip...though her adventure isn’t meant to include Parker Fordum. The stodgy, set-in-his-ways economics professor is the last person McKenna wants to accompany her across 2,400 miles of defunct highway. But her late husband’s friend has his own reasons for signing on.

And Parker’s surprising McKenna in all sorts of good ways. Somewhere between Chicago and LA, an unlikely friendship blooms, turning a cross-country trip into something more. But what awaits them at journey’s end?

His arm around her was sure and strong.

McKenna had forgotten what it felt like for a man to hold her. Emotions she’d buried suddenly surfaced like a strong gust of wind that sweeps around a corner and takes you by surprise.

She went up on her toes, joining him in the kiss. It seemed to go on forever.

Parker released her. He stepped back, moving out of her personal space. His stare was steady and direct as she looked up at him. “I’m not going to apologize,” he said. “I’m not sorry.”

McKenna couldn’t speak. Her lip trembled from contact with his. Was she sorry? She didn’t know. She’d never expected Parker to kiss her. She’d never expected to enjoy it. But she had. She should be ready to date again, to find someone she could spend her life with.

But Parker?

He wasn’t that man. Parker Fordum was the last man on earth that she could have any kind of relationship with.

Dear Reader,

Driving Route 66 from end to end has been a goal of mine since I was first enthralled by the exploits of the two fictional characters from the television program Route 66. (I was also intrigued by the car.) Writing is a way of getting to safely do all of the things you can imagine. And so I gave my adventure to McKenna and Parker.

In researching this book, I watched some of the old television episodes from Route 66. Just as Parker has done in my book, I was rediscovering the road and the stories encountered and especially the people that make life interesting. I hope you enjoy Promises to Keep and that you will have your own adventure.

As always, keep reading,

Shirley

Promises to Keep

Shirley Hailstock

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SHIRLEY HAILSTOCK began her writing life as a lover of reading. She likes nothing better than to find a quiet corner where she can get lost in a book, explore new worlds and visit places she never expected to see. As an author, she can not only visit those places, but she can be the heroine of her own stories. The author of over thirty novels and novellas, including her electronic editions, Shirley has received numerous awards, including the Waldenbooks Bestselling Romance Award and the RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award. Shirley’s books have appeared on BlackBoard, Essence and Library Journal bestseller lists. She is a past president of Romance Writers of America.

To my editor Kathryn Lye,

for making my stories better.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

WHAT SHE WAS about to do was strictly forbidden. McKenna Wellington knew it, but she was going to do it anyway.

She glanced at the aged and torn rule sign hanging on the wall. Turning it over, she reached for the master switch and forced it up. The lights over the track flared on. In a flash, midnight became high noon.

Looking up, she squinted at the brightness. The buzz of the halogen lamps coming to life sounded like a cavalcade of bees. The bleachers showed bright red seats, and the infield was ripe with Kentucky bluegrass. No cars graced the field—except hers. The fully restored red-and-white 1959 Corvette sat alone, a silent sentinel waiting for its driver in the surreal light.

Nothing was scheduled for testing. There were no spectators, no officials with stop watches or pit crews.

She was alone.

McKenna, the lights, the car and the night.

The wind was strong, plastering her flight suit to her body, but it wasn’t rugged enough to affect her test. Snapping her helmet over her shoulder-length brunette mane, she slid behind the wheel. She took a moment to admire the car, running her hand over the leather upholstery, caressing the steering wheel, taking in that new car smell and admiring the gleaming chrome hood ornament. It had taken her a year to restore the car and tonight was its first and only test run.

With her hands on the steering wheel, Marshall came unbidden to mind. This car, this drive, was her idea, but he’d supported it. They were going to do it together. But now that was not to be, would never be. Mist rose to her eyes. She blinked it away.

Marshall had been gone three years. She missed him, but she’d learned to fill the hours of her days until she no longer felt she would fall into melancholy and sudden bouts of tears. Guilt had racked her when she no longer thought of him first thing in the morning or last thing at night, when his features began to fade and she had to concentrate to bring them into focus.

McKenna shook herself, raising her chin and pushing the past behind her. She turned the key. The engine purred with only the slightest pressure from her foot. Her heart beat faster. Sweat coated her brow in anticipation of future speeds. Adrenaline pumped through her system. The car was her baby and she was taking it for a ride.

Pressing her foot down several times, she let gasoline pour through the intake valves. The dual exhausts kicked white smoke into the cool air. The sound was exhilarating. Anticipation, like a drug, flowed through her.

“Come on, baby,” she said aloud. “It’s show time.”

McKenna threw the car into first gear and pressed the accelerator. The Corvette took off as if it had a tail wind, digging its tires into the track, spitting up dirt and debris. The car punched forward along the artificially lighted track and headed down the straightaway. She didn’t feel so much as a shadow of a shimmy from the backfield. Pride swelled inside her. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this way before.

She’d done it. She’d rebuilt a car and she was driving it. But not just any car. This was Marshall’s car. A 1959 Corvette Stingray. No one had helped her. No one was there to lower the engine in place, slip a seat down on its frame, install a radio, put on a tire or polish the chrome grill. The car was hers, totally. She knew every nut and bolt in it, every quart of oil, washer fluid, belt, muffler and filter. Each one had her personal handprint on it. This was her first step toward an adventure and no one was going to keep her from doing it.

She pushed the car forward a toe at a time, shifting the gears with the precision of a choreographed dance. They smoothly slipped from one to the next. There was no grind, no crunch, just the polished perfection of timing and engineering. The car took its head and McKenna let it have it. The speedometer inched up until it reached Mach 1. RPMs soared. Tires spun, keeping traction with the pavement. The night wind ripped over the windshield, whistling in the lamplight like a knife cutting a path through which she flew. And flight wasn’t out of the question.

At the first curve, she banked high, easing into the turn but maintaining speed. She could kill herself if the slightest move wasn’t exact. The Corvette performed to her touch, slinging her around the turn and sending her straight down the fairway. McKenna took a moment to smile before bringing her concentration back to her driving. She went on, executing test after test, seeing what the car could do and making sure it would perform as expected should a situation arise when she needed speed, maneuverability or just plain getaway power.

Satisfied, she headed back toward the track entrance. She entered slowly, cooling the car down as if it were a thoroughbred. Turning off the engine, she got out and closed the door, admiring the beauty of the vehicle as if it were a Greek god.

The lamp lights still buzzed above her. McKenna walked around the Corvette, she couldn’t quit staring at it. She stopped and a smile spread across her face. Suddenly she jumped up in the air, doing the splits as if she were a cheerleader. Her voice hollered to the empty bleachers.

And that’s when the lights went out.

* * *

SUDDEN CHANGES DISORIENT most people. McKenna was still in the air when daylight was switched back into darkness. Her eyes didn’t have time to adjust to the change. Unsure of where the ground was or how high in the air she had jumped, she came down hard. Her hands reached for the car to break her fall, but it was too far away. Her feet hit the ground, her knees bent, and her butt made contact with the unforgiving track. Pain rocketed through her from her knees to her eyelashes.

Just as quickly as they had gone out, the halogen lamps burst on again. The instant change blinded McKenna. She heard footsteps crunch on the track. Fear surged within her. Thoughts of getting to the car raced in her mind and despite the pain, she was on her feet, moving forward when she heard her name.

Pivoting toward the direction of the sound, she waited to see who was there.

“What are you doing here?” Sam Sherrod strode forward followed by Parker Fordum. Sam was the test track manager. He didn’t live far from the place and looked at it as his personal property. Sam was in his late fifties and had been with the company McKenna owned since before she took total control when her husband, Marshall, passed.

Seeing Parker had McKenna gritting her teeth. What was he doing with Sam? Parker was an economics professor and had once been friends with Marshall. McKenna never took to him. While Sam knew cars inside and out, Parker recognized it only as a means of necessity to get from Point A to Point B.

“Are you all right?” Parker asked.

The question must have awakened McKenna’s nerves, because suddenly every pain receptor in her body sprang to life reminding her of her fall.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked again. “I saw the lights and thought someone had broken in. The kids do that sometimes, but they never turn on the lights.”

“Sorry, Sam. I wanted to ride around the track for a while.”

Sam looked at the Corvette and then stared as if he’d been struck dumb. “Where did you get this?” His voice was breathless as he walked slowly, his steps matching the cadence of his words. He fully circled the car, peering at it as if he’d found the Holy Grail. “You’re not planning to bring this model back, are you?” His tone was negative, but McKenna knew he wanted a positive reply.

“Sam, we make parts, not full cars,” McKenna told him.

“I know,” he said. “A car is only a...”

“Few parts,” she finished for him. Sam always said that. He had it printed on a banner and attached to the bumper of his personal car.

“Where did you get this one?” Parker spoke, also staring at the car.

“I restored it,” McKenna said proudly.

“It’s a beauty.” His eyes seemed fixed on the car. McKenna knew he hadn’t heard her actual words. He thought she meant she’d had it restored. So far no one really knew that she had done it herself and she wasn’t about to go into explanations at this hour.

“My father had one of these,” Sam said. “He loved that car almost as much as he loved my mother.”

“I know just how he felt,” McKenna said. “Marshall had a replica of this on his desk at home. He told me once that he wished he could drive it like the wind.”

“Was that what you were doing tonight?” Parker glanced over at the track.

“Something like that,” she said, dryly.

“You can, of course,” Sam told her. “But I’d feel a lot better if you did it in the daylight. I don’t want to have to scrape you off one of these walls.”

“It was something I had to do, Sam. And I needed to do it alone.”

“I understand,” Sam replied. McKenna knew he did. She could hear it in his voice.

“You’ve got it out of your system now, so we won’t expect a repeat performance,” Parker stated. McKenna could hear his censure loud and clear.

“No. No repeat performance,” she said, keeping her tone as level as possible.

The next time she drove the car it wouldn’t be on a track, but a road.

The Mother Road.

* * *

ONE OF THE hardest lessons McKenna Wellington ever learned was to win the battle for friendship. Lydia, Sara and Adrienne were as close to her as sisters. She’d known Lydia and Adrienne since they’d all played in the same sandbox. Sara she’d met in college, but she fit into the group as if she’d always been a part of it. They had been there for each other during most of the joys and hardships of their lives, but they were also the worst critics to her creativity that anyone could choose. And though she loved them, she would not allow them to run her life.

For most of her thirty years McKenna Wellington had fallen in step with others. Whenever she tried to assert herself, there was always a reason for her to forsake her plans and comply with someone else’s.

Well, she was done with life by committee. Life was too short for her to put off doing things until it was palatable to the group. Marshall’s death had brought that realization home.

She’d allowed her friends to talk her out of moving to Alaska after college and to ditch her plan to make a fortune and then return to the mainland. When she wanted to invest money in an upstart computer software company, they’d convinced her she’d lose her bra. That company was now a worldwide multibillion dollar enterprise. Before she married, she wanted to buy a house. They’d been there to explain all the maintenance nightmares that could happen and how she was unprepared to cope with them. So she’d remained in her apartment. Only after marriage had she and Marsh bought a small three bedroom bungalow. Then, when the business exploded, a larger home in the Chicago suburbs where she resided now.

Well, not anymore.

If she kept that up, she’d die never having lived her own life. Now she was planning to go to California—her way.

“I never heard anything so silly,” Sara stated, pushing her shoulders back and rising up to her full height of five feet, five inches. Placing a hand over her mouth, Sara began to laugh as if McKenna’s announcement was a joke. “McKenna Wellington, have you finally lost your mind?” Lydia and Adrienne snickered.

McKenna closed her eyes and took a long breath, pulling her anger under control. She knew this would be her friends’ reaction. They had long since given up on their dreams. So had McKenna until three years ago when the man she’d married and expected to spend her life with had suddenly died of a heart attack, leaving her behind. Marshall was only twenty-eight. He would never be twenty-nine.

It had taken a while for her to stabilize the business, deal with the grief and assure the employees that their jobs were secure. But she was stronger for it now. And her dreams had returned. Dreams she’d put on hold so long ago she was surprised the door locking them still had a key. Marshall’s death opened that door. McKenna was going to act on her own dreams and no one, not even her friends—her best friends—were going to talk her out of them.

“My mind is completely intact, Sara. And I don’t think this is funny.” She stared across the car in her garage at her three friends. “I’m doing something I’ve always wanted to do. I’m telling you because you’re my friends, but I am not asking for your consent or approval.”

The group looked a little stunned. It was natural that they should. McKenna had never spoken this way before. But she wanted them to know up front that she was not accepting any criticism or attempts to dissuade her from her plan.

“McKenna, you can’t be serious,” Adrienne jumped in. “First you invite us to dinner. A wonderful dinner, I might add. You outdid yourself with the Lobster Newburg. It was superb.” Lydia made a French gesture of kissing her fingers and saying ooh-la-la. “Then you bring us out here to the garage and show us this...this car.” She pointed a finger at the Corvette as if it would bite her. “A car you say you built.”

“This is not a secret,” McKenna said. “You’ve all known for a year that I was building this car.”

Sara’s face screwed into a frown. She looked at Lydia Osbourne for help. “We didn’t actually believe you when you said that,” Lydia told her. “Selling auto parts doesn’t qualify you to build an entire vehicle. Where would you learn how? We just thought it was your way of saying good-night or that you didn’t want to do something we did.”

McKenna scowled at her.

“You know,” Lydia tried to cover. “Like when Margaret Mitchell told her friends she was going home to work on her novel.”

“Well, it was true when Margaret said it and it’s true for me.” She turned toward the red and white 1959 Corvette and spread her arms with pride. “As you can see.”

“McKenna, be reasonable,” Sara stated. She always began her arguments with be reasonable. “You can’t turn over the management of Marsh’s company to that idiot George Hightower and run off on this harebrained scheme.” Sara was the only person who dared to call Marshall Wellington “Marsh” to his face. Sara was Marshall’s sister. It was through her that McKenna had met him. And, like family, she protected her brother’s interests even after he was no longer alive to do it for himself. McKenna was also protecting Marshall’s interest. She would never do anything to intentionally hurt the company. It was her livelihood, too.

“It wasn’t just Marshall’s company. My sweat, tears and several years of my life are embedded in the walls of that business.”

McKenna and Marshall decided on the idea at the same time. Both loved cars and both had contacts in the automobile industry. It was McKenna who first broached the subject of starting a business to service vehicles, but Marshall jumped right in as if they were both of the same mind-set.

Marshall knew the economy affected car sales, but people were willing to buy more efficient cars in a bad economy. Those that didn’t, took better care of the car they already owned. Their business, of a full line of automotive products sold to both retail outlets and the automotive industry, had taken off.

The business didn’t just sustain them, it turned them into millionaires. But when Marshall got into the high-end, custom-made conversions, the carriage trade lined up and the business’s annual income became serious money.

“I didn’t mean to imply that Marsh did it all himself,” Sara was saying when McKenna’s attention came back to her. McKenna gestured for her sister-in-law to stop talking.

“George Hightower is not an idiot. He’s a capable manager and Marshall trusted him implicitly. So do I. George will keep things moving if he has to go out on the floor and run the machines himself.” She paused, waiting for Sara to refute her statement. Sara looked as if she disagreed, but she remained quiet.

“Good. Then there’s nothing to keep me from pursuing my dream. Marshall is gone and I’m free and single. I’m alone here and I want to do this before I die.”

“You’re not dying...” Sara said but then questioned, her expression changing to concern.

“We’re all dying, Sara!” McKenna shouted. Fighting to quickly compose herself, she continued, her voice at its normal volume. “When Marshall died, I wanted to die, too. My life had been so much his life. Without him I didn’t know what to do, but after I was running the company alone for a while, I felt the old me emerging.”

McKenna looked at her friends, studying their faces. “You remember the old me, don’t you? I used to be brave, yearning for new experiences. I loved Marshall, but he held me back.”

“Held you back. How?” Sara challenged.

“He didn’t mean to, Sara. And I let it happen.” She said the words gently. “I was happy to run the house, take a backseat to his decisions. I was happy to do what he wanted. We planned to have children, but our efforts were focused on the factory. We started the business and settled in. It took all our time and energy. But he’s gone now and I don’t want to die thinking I shoulda, woulda, coulda followed my heart and I didn’t. If I fail, at least I’ll know I gave it a chance. Can’t you understand that?”

For a moment it was quiet in the garage. Silently she pleaded for their understanding. Lydia, Sara and Adrienne all had different expressions. McKenna didn’t know if they were reviewing the younger versions of themselves, the people they used to be when their dreams were fresh and new and the thought of not accomplishing them wasn’t an option, or if they were judging her.

“You haven’t said anything, Lydia,” Sara prompted. “What do you think of McKenna’s plan?”

Lydia Osbourne was McKenna’s oldest friend. “I don’t think you can make a trip like this alone,” she said.

“There,” Sara seized the comment as consent that Lydia was in her corner. “Lydia’s right. What woman do you know who wants to drive from here to Los Angeles alone?”

“And on roads that are cracked, overgrown with weeds or so badly in need of repair they’re essentially nonexistent,” Adrienne said.

“You’re not going to talk me out of this,” McKenna said. “I’ve planned it for a year and I’m leaving in ten days.”

“Ten days,” Adrienne said. “This car may not make it from here to California. That’s got to be...”

“2,400 miles along Route 66,” McKenna finished for her. “And I know every single part of this automobile. I have personally installed every part, every piece. I know what its purpose is and what it needs to keep it working properly. This car is better equipped for a road trip than anything any of you drive.” Her comment was a challenge and she didn’t care how they took it.

There were drawbacks, but McKenna didn’t know what they were yet. She chalked that up to being part of the adventure.

“At least take someone with you,” Lydia said.

“The car’s only got two seats and no trunk to speak of,” Sara observed. “Where are you going to stay and how can you even put one suitcase in this thing, let alone one for another person?”

“Only you would call a fully restored ’59 Corvette a thing, Sara. I’m not planning on taking much. I want to travel the land the way the two guys on Route 66 did it.”

“I thought Route 66 was a road?” Lydia asked.

“A defunct road,” Adrienne added.

“It’s an old television series, with two guys traveling the roads, finding work where they could, and having a wonderful time,” McKenna explained.

“I never heard of such a thing,” Sara said.

“It was before our time, but I watched the reruns on Nick at Nite,” McKenna said. She’d watched them while Marshall was ill. It played in the hospital and she felt as if those two guys had kept her sane during an insane time.

“Isn’t that a children’s television station?” Adrienne asked.

“During the day, but at night they play vintage programs. The guys were Buz and Tod and they were the hottest thing going during the late ’60s. They traveled that road working and meeting people along the way.”

“How would you know? You weren’t even born then.”

McKenna was tired of explaining herself. She was going and that should be that. “The internet,” she finally said, unwilling to go into how much she had read on the subject, the books, songs, associations she’d joined, not to mention the two Disney movies surrounding that road that came out only a few years ago.

“All of this is because of some fifty-year-old television program? I cannot believe you,” Sara said.

McKenna clenched her jaws. At this moment she could strangle Sara. She wanted her friends to approve of her trip, not plant doom in her head.

“Sara, the show was only part of the inspiration for the trip, but it’s something I want to do. I’d forgotten about it until I started watching those reruns.”

“Sara has a good point, McKenna,” Lydia said. “Have you given this enough thought? There are hundreds of things that can go wrong on the road. And trying to work your way to LA. How long do you think this is going to take? And what about emergencies?”

“I’ll deal with them. If I can build a car, I can certainly drive it.”

Lydia looked the car over with the eye of a teenage greaser. “It’s very low to the ground. Those roads haven’t been maintained in years, if ever. You’re likely to have trouble with the muffler and oil.”

“I can handle it.”

“If you get someone to go with you, I’d feel better.”

“How about you going with me?” she asked Lydia.

“What?” Lydia said. “I can’t—”

“Why not?” McKenna interrupted. “What are you doing for the next few months?”

“I have a job.”

Lydia was a dressmaker by profession. She had a shop attached to her house and Sara worked there, too. They mainly did wedding gowns and big-ticket dresses for wealthy clients.

“Sara can run it while you’re gone. You have a staff of people who make and alter the dresses. You’ve been doing management and client relations for years. And you haven’t had a vacation since I can remember.”

“Wait a minute,” Sara said. “You’re not considering this?” she asked Lydia.

“Of course not. I can’t just up and leave.”

“Lydia, it’ll be fun,” McKenna said. “The two of us, the wind in our hair, a car that any man over thirty would drool over. Just think about it. The open road. No cares. No deadlines. No one screaming for your attention.”

Lydia considered it for a moment. She walked around the car, checking inside at the upholstery and smallness of the interior.

“Fine,” she said. “We’ll be like Thelma and Louise.”

“No, we won’t,” McKenna exclaimed, her eyebrows raised in protest. “The Grand Canyon is several hundred miles north of any part of Route 66.”

“I was kidding,” Lydia said.

McKenna’s shoulders dropped. “Lydia, I’ve been thinking about this ever since Marshall died.” She faced Sara and addressed her. “It’s something I want to do. I have to do it. Don’t burst my bubble now.”

“I know you’re slightly off your rocker,” Lydia spoke up. “But it’s good to give life a jolt once in a while, instead of waiting for it to do it to you.”

“Now she’s got it, too,” Sara said. “You’re both crazy.”

“The car’s only got two seats,” McKenna pointed out, ignoring Sara. “We’ll be traveling light and that means no men.”

“But Tod and Buz had women. Why can’t we have men? Thelma and Louise had men, too, only they killed them,” Lydia said.

“I draw the line at murder, but pretty much everything else is fine with me.” McKenna smiled.

Lydia and McKenna grinned at each other. And then they grinned at Sara and Adrienne. After a moment, they all burst into laughter.

CHAPTER TWO

TWO MORE DAYS, McKenna thought, leaving the store. The last thing she needed for the trip was a lightweight jacket. She’d found one that was warm, but not bulky. It was red and swung inside the bag she carried.

She stopped along Main Street to look in the window of a small boutique. A royal blue gown expertly displayed on a mannequin stood in the window. McKenna gasped at its beauty. She could see herself wearing it. If she was going to a ball, it would be perfect. But her car was small and now she had a passenger. There was no room for anything superfluous. Not even a gorgeous royal blue gown would fit into the single bag she was using for this trip.

Not to mention her plans didn’t include any evening functions requiring such a dress. Turning away, McKenna wasn’t expecting anyone to be so close to her. She ran directly into the massive chest of a man. Strong arms came out to steady her. The bag dropped to the ground as her fingers grabbed and found hefty biceps and held on.

“I am so sorry,” she began, looking up at the man she’d walked into. “Parker!” He was the last person she expected or wanted to see.

“McKenna,” he replied, letting her go.

“Excuse me. I should have been paying more attention.”

He glanced at the blue ball gown. “Apparently you were.”

She smiled quickly, only allowing her lips to widen and close. Parker Fordum had to be the most boring man in Chicago and the surrounding suburbs. McKenna had had run-ins with him in the past and did not want either a repeat of them or to spend more time in his company than was absolutely necessary.

“As neither of us is hurt, I’ll say goodbye,” she told him. She reached down and retrieved her bag, then moved to leave, but Parker stopped in front of her.

“I hear you’re planning an adventure,” he said.

“I am.” She raised her brows, meeting his gaze, ready for the challenge she knew would be reflected there. She wasn’t disappointed. She had to look up, as Parker stood a head taller than her five feet, five inches.

He was a good-looking man. She had to admit that. His eyes were piercing and at times they could be comforting. She’d seen him look at Lydia with happiness then changing to a soft warmth.

Reflecting his European ancestry, Parker had thick dark hair, a square jawline and features that commanded attention. His arms were long, extending from broad shoulders. Equally long were his strong legs. While she wouldn’t call him athletic, Parker and Marshall often went skiing together and they had a regular Saturday morning basketball game. She didn’t know who, if anyone, he played with now that Marshall was gone.

For all his attributes, college professor described him best, the phrase like a tattoo. In her presence, at least, that was the personality he showed. Granted it was also laced with hostility. She didn’t blame him for that. She was hostile to him, too. The two of them just didn’t hit it off.

“California, by way of Route 66?” His voice interrupted her assessment of him.

“How did you know?” McKenna asked.

“How often do we have the female owner of an international automotive parts corporation restoring a Corvette in her garage and planning to drive it from here to the Pacific?”

“I suppose word is all over town about my trip.”

“I don’t think it made it to downtown Chicago, but the entire township of Woodbine Heights has had the privilege.”

“Adrienne or Sara?”

“Sara.” He nodded.

McKenna had no doubt her sister-in-law would be telling the tale, including her opinion of how harebrained the scheme was.

“Don’t worry about what she says,” Parker told her. “The idea of driving Route 66 is fascinating.”

“You think so?” she asked. McKenna forced herself not to blink. Was this the real Parker Fordum she was talking to?

“Absolutely,” he said.

McKenna looked at Parker to make sure he wasn’t being facetious. She knew people could say one thing and mean another. But his appearance seemed to be genuine.

“I envy you.”

“What?” McKenna couldn’t be hearing the straitlaced, put-everything-into-a-box Professor Parker Fordum was envying her.

“Taking off for the wild unknown with only your wits as backup. It’s a brave thing to do.”

She was about to thank him, but his next words stopped her.

“And a foolhardy one.”

“Excuse me?” McKenna pushed her hand through the plastic bag’s handle. She should have known he was setting her up. Parker was always true to character. How could McKenna have thought for a moment he would agree with her motives? She was going and she didn’t need or want Parker’s opinion.

“Don’t you understand who you are?”

“Of course I do.” And she knew who she was not. She wasn’t someone who was going to be talked out of what she wanted to do.

“You are the owner of a billion-dollar business. You are female.”

“Thank you for noticing. I might have missed those two points, especially as I come out of the shower each day. And I don’t care to hear any more from you.”

McKenna moved to pass him. Again he blocked her path.

“If you were only going on a driving trip, I’d say hail and farewell.”

“But...” she prompted.

“But you’re planning to work your way to the coast, doing only what you can afford.”

“Parker, I’m taking enough money with me to get me there. It’s not like I’m planning to sleep in a field or cook over an open flame. And Jim Talbott is expecting me.”

“That’s good to hear, but what about the safety factor? The world isn’t as safe as you might think.”

Leave it to him to put everything on a nice neat little graph.

“I’m well aware of the dangers and I’ll be careful to stay away from them.”

“From kidnapping?”

“You think someone wants to kidnap me?”

“Why not? You’re a wealthy woman. You’ll only have Lydia as backup and she’ll panic the first time she sees a bug, let alone someone bent on harming the two of you.”

“What are you talking about?” The bag on her arm was getting heavy. She wanted to be gone. She and Parker had never agreed on anything. Sara may have told him her opinion, but McKenna was leaving in two days and nothing he could say would keep her from going.

“Even though this is a small town, your movements haven’t been lost on the population. Especially with everyone knowing now about this trip. And a red-and-white ’59 Corvette will be easy to spot. If some guy takes it into his head to subdue you and hold you for ransom, what could you do about it?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe I could use some of my self-defense training and slam him to the ground with a kick to the groin and a chop to the larynx. Or maybe I should bring you along as my personal bodyguard. The only problem with that is the car only has two seats and they’re occupied.” Her voice virtually oozed with sugar. “The trunk is available but it isn’t big enough for someone with shoulders as wide as yours, or legs as long.” She stepped around him. “See you when I get back.” To herself, she added, but preferably won’t.

* * *

BY MORNING, THOUGHTS of Parker weren’t McKenna’s main concern. The call came half an hour ago. Lydia had fallen and was in Mercy Hospital.

McKenna turned into the parking lot. The lights of an ambulance momentarily blinded her. The car skidded to a stop next to a white van. Slamming the car door, McKenna ran to the hospital entrance. The revolving door hampered her hurried efforts. Inside, she rushed straight to the room number Adrienne had given her.

Parker Fordum came out of the door as she reached it. McKenna stopped, frowned. She did not want to physically run into him a second time. She remembered his arms around her, the feel of his hands as they steadied her.

“McKenna,” he said by way of greeting, his head bowing in a curt nod.

“How is she?” McKenna felt obliged to ask.

“She’s waiting for you.” He nodded in the fashion of someone used to tipping a hat, but as long as McKenna had known Parker she’d never seen him wear one. He stepped around her and walked down the hall. McKenna watched him go, but he didn’t turn to glance at her. She’d been dismissed as if she was one of his needy students. Impulsively, she wanted to stick her tongue out at him, but someone might see her and it was a childish act.

“Lydia, are you all right?” McKenna asked breathlessly when she entered her friend’s room. Lydia lay in bed looking pale and drawn, although she smiled. Her right leg had a cast on it up to her knee.

“McKenna, I’m fine. I fell off the attic ladder. It was so stupid. I was getting down a case for the trip and my foot slipped. Both the case and I came crashing down.”

“Are you going to be all right?”

“I’m okay now. The doctor says my leg will heal just fine.” She smiled and McKenna thought Lydia was trying to put her at ease. By her expression, Lydia must have thought she looked panicky.

“I’ll be up and dancing again before you know it.” Again Lydia smiled.

“Why didn’t someone call me last night?”

“You couldn’t have done anything. I was in surgery and then I was asleep from the anesthesia. I had Parker call you this morning.”

“Adrienne called me.”

“Maybe he got to her before you. And you know Adrienne. She’s probably called everyone by now.”

“Can I get you anything? Are you in any pain?”

“I could use another pillow.”

McKenna pulled a pillow from an empty bed and lifted Lydia forward to put it behind her.

“That’s much better.”

McKenna settled into the chair next to the bed. Lydia’s face looked less pale than it had when McKenna had first seen her against the white sheet.

“I’m not going to be able to go on the trip with you,” Lydia said.

“Forget about the trip. You’re going to need help when you get home.”

“I’ll have plenty of help at home. Other than Sara and Adrienne practicing their remedial nursing skills, Emory was here when I woke up.”

Lydia had been on-again, off-again in love with Emory Woodson for as long as anyone could remember.

“I’m just sorry you’re going to have to cancel.” Lydia adjusted her pillows.

“Cancel,” McKenna said. “I’m not going to cancel.” The words had come out automatically, as if she were used to getting her way.

Even hearing that Lydia had fallen didn’t make McKenna respond with talk of cancelling her trip. Lydia was going to be fine. And besides, McKenna had planned to go alone and only agreed to let Lydia come to satisfy their friends. She’d be alone again, but she was going.

“You’ve waited this long—”

“I’m not waiting any longer,” McKenna interrupted.

“But I’ve gotten used to thinking of us both going. You know, Thelma and Louise.”

“Sorry. I was going alone initially. I’ll just go back to the original plan.”

Lydia pushed herself up a little farther. “I knew you’d feel this way. Even though you’d never think of doing this if Marshall was still alive.”

“Probably not. With Marshall we’d be involved in expanding the business. I don’t want to spend thirty years inside a factory, developing newer and newer products, and never see the world.”

“Why is that road so important to you?”

“It’s not the road.”

“It is,” Lydia contradicted. “If it wasn’t that road, would you take the highways or even fly? You want to take that car over that road.”

McKenna stared at the wall behind Lydia for a while. “It’s been a wish of mine for a long time. And Marshall’s, too.”

“Marshall never said anything about wanting to drive 2,400 miles, or wanting to drive that road.”

McKenna refrained from telling her that there were some things that husbands and wives shared that other people knew nothing about.

“Why do you think Marshall had that replica in his office?”

“He liked cars,” Lydia replied.

McKenna shook her head. “He didn’t just like cars. He loved cars. Loved everything about them—the smell of the oil, the sound of a perfectly pitched engine, the squeal of the tires against the road. Every year he couldn’t wait for the new models. Even the new paint colors excited him.”

“I know,” Lydia said. “Marshall lived and breathed cars.”

“I asked him once about the car. Why he had the replica on his desk.”

“Did he say he wanted one, wanted to take it on a road trip?”

“Not in those words. He said it represented a dream. He wanted the freedom the car represented. Not that he regretted marrying me. I wasn’t the tether holding him in place. It was the business. We had so much responsibility because of it, the welfare of our employees depended on us. He took that seriously and said driving away wasn’t in his plans any longer.”

“When was this?” Lydia’s voice was soft. McKenna felt as if she was trying to protect her from the memory of things she and Marshall would never do.

“Shortly before he died. You remember the business was taking a slight hit. We’d begun the custom work and we were pouring a lot of financing into it.”

Lydia nodded. “And then he was gone.”

McKenna felt her eyes tear up. “And then he was gone.”

“And you decided to fulfill his dream.”

She smiled at Lydia, a genuine smile. “It wasn’t just his dream, Lydia. It was mine, too. I didn’t build that car in memory of my husband.”

Lydia gave her a scant look.

“Well, not totally. Building it was my idea, only mine. It was a way to help me deal with Marshall’s death, take my mind off everything. Once I started, it became me. I wanted to do it. I wanted to put all those pieces together and complete it. And I wanted to take it on the road. Men aren’t the only ones who think taking off into the wild is their birthright.”

Lydia held her hand and squeezed it. Then she released it. “I’m sorry that I can’t go with you now.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll have no problem being on my own.”

“Well...you won’t be going alone, actually”

McKenna raised her brows, curious. “I won’t?”

“Parker is going to accompany you.”

McKenna couldn’t believe her ears. “Parker!” She almost screamed. “Parker Fordum?” She stood up and took a step back. “You’ve got to be kidding.” McKenna’s stomach churned at the thought of Parker sitting next to her in the small car.

“McKenna, Fordum is on sabbatical. He’s a perfect replacement,” Lydia said.

“Lydia, he’s old, has no imagination and he wants to label and define everyone into a neat, little box. That’s not the kind of person I am or the kind of trip I’m going on.”

“He’s not that old. He’s younger than you are.”

“That’s not what I mean. He acts old, set in his ways. He’s too much of a by-the-book person. He would never fit into the way I want this trip to be.”

“McKenna, he’s not like that at all. Parker is a warm, funny individual who loves adventure. Give him a chance.”

McKenna was shaking her head before Lydia had finished speaking.

“You can’t go alone. It’s too long a drive and too dangerous. And Parker could help out if the car breaks down.”

“Is he a mechanic? Does he know the first thing about a car, about a ’59 Corvette, other than how to drive one? And it has a standard transmission. Can he even drive a stick?”

“You still need someone to help you,” Lydia insisted.

“No, I don’t,” McKenna said. She was sorry she’d ever mentioned the trip to her friends. Maybe it would have been better if she’d just called them from the open road and told them she was off and would be back when the adventure was over. She sighed. It was too late for that now.

“I don’t need his help. I built that car. If it breaks down, I can fix it.”

“McKenna, I’m not doubting your intelligence, but you might just need someone with strength to help you along.”

“Lydia, it’s more than that. You and I are women. The whole dynamic changes with a man. We can’t stay in the same hotel room, so that means more expenses. I’m not familiar with his habits, his likes and dislikes in food, his pet peeves. You and I had agreed to eat simple, healthy food and to exercise everyday so we wouldn’t get run-down or develop any health problems. I rarely even talk to Parker other than sharing a polite conversation at a party.” She’d always cut short or avoided conversation with him altogether. And then there was the matter of Marshall and Parker.

“Then you two can spend the time getting to know each other.” Lydia put her hand up when McKenna began to speak. “He’s already agreed to spend part of his sabbatical on the road with you, so don’t mess this up. You don’t leave for two days. You’ll have time to get used to the idea.”

“What idea?”

McKenna turned to find Parker Fordum in the doorway, holding a bouquet of flowers in a glass vase. She stiffened at his unexpected presence, then forced herself to relax. While she and Parker were like oil and water, he and Lydia had been friends since their college days. McKenna usually tried to be at the other end of the room whenever they were at the same event. She couldn’t imagine spending weeks on the road with him. Alone.

“The idea of traveling a long distance with you,” Lydia responded truthfully.

McKenna wanted to glare at Lydia, but she transferred her attention to Parker and said, “I was a little surprised when Lydia told me you agreed to stand in for her on our trip.”

“She’s very persuasive.” His voice was almost a drawl, yet McKenna knew he’d spent his entire life in and around Chicago.

So he didn’t want to go, she thought. McKenna took a step forward, coming up against the bed. “She tells me you’re on sabbatical. I bet you’re trying to finish a book. I wouldn’t dream of taking you away from that. I know how proud you are of the books you write. And you probably have a deadline to meet. I can complete my trip alone. That was my plan from the very beginning.”

“The book’s done,” he said. It sounded like a dismissal. “I have some editing to do. I can do that in the car when I’m not driving.”

“And there’s safety in numbers,” Lydia chirped. “Since I can’t go, McKenna, I’d feel so much better if I knew you were safe with Parker.”

Safe with Parker, she thought. How could she be anything else. He was the epitome of boring. Yet McKenna felt trapped. She couldn’t say what she really felt—that she’d rather spend the weeks having the hairs pulled out of her legs one by one than sitting in a car with Parker clicking away on a laptop as she chauffeured him from Chicago to Los Angeles. This was supposed to be a fun trip. It was her adventure. She didn’t want it spoiled.

“I have my credit cards in case of an emergency. I’ll be careful. Nothing will happen.”

“That’s not exactly true,” Parker said.

McKenna clamped her back teeth together to keep from shouting at him.

“Other than the car breaking down, there are hundreds of things that can happen to a woman traveling alone.”

McKenna groaned. “Not that eighteenth-century damsel in distress story? You’re not my knight in shining armor.”

“No, but I’m all you’ve got.” His voice was stronger than McKenna had ever heard it. She stared at him as if he’d grown horns.

After a long moment, she glanced at Lydia. Her friend looked tired and McKenna felt guilty that the argument was contributing to her condition.

“Lydia, I have to go now. I’ll be back later.” The implication was she’d return when Parker was not in residence. Then she turned to Parker. “Can I see you outside?”

“McKenna,” Lydia said, stopping her. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, Lydia, you don’t need to apologize. And if you want, I can postpone the trip,” she told her, feeling true compassion for her friend.

“No. You’ve got your heart set on it. You’re excited when you talk about it. Parker will be good company. You’ll see.” With that she gave a little wink.

Outside the door, McKenna turned to Parker. “I know Lydia’s convinced you that I need a companion, but I assure you I don’t.”

“I was being truthful when I said there were a hundred things that could happen to you,” Parker said.

“Those things can happen even if you’re with me. So since the consequences are the same no matter the circumstance, I’d just as soon go alone.”

“Have it your way. Just don’t tell Lydia.”

“Thanks, Parker.” McKenna smiled. She couldn’t believe her luck. She expected a heated argument, but he was being extremely reasonable. McKenna almost put her hand on his arm and squeezed it as a way of confirming her thank-you, but stopped herself before she did so. “Good luck with the book.”

She walked away, her step a little lighter. McKenna didn’t look back. She knew Parker was staring after her. Despite the way she felt about him, he made her conscious of her body. She was wearing jeans and a shirt, but she felt as if he could see right through her clothes.

The impulse to strut invaded her brain. She could give him a real image to keep when she was gone. Forcing herself to walk normally, her entire body was hot by the time she turned the corner leading to the elevator. She dropped her shoulders and took a deep breath.

“Thank God, I’m going alone,” she said out loud.

She was disappointed that Lydia wouldn’t be with her. Having a companion along had its advantages, but the idea of the open road and the freedom of doing whatever she pleased without anyone to censure her or question her decisions was exhilarating.

By the time McKenna reached her car, an idea was forming in her mind. All the arrangements were made for her mail, her bills, her house. She was practically packed. Since she would be traveling alone, why wait two days? She could begin her trip in the morning. The weather forecast was good for the next few days. All she needed to do was go to the bank and she’d be ready.

Her spirits rose in anticipation. Negotiating Chicago’s traffic didn’t even bother her today. By this time tomorrow, she’d be on some less traveled road and having the time of her life.

This was going to happen, she sang silently, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel as she made her way home. This was really going to happen. The open road, a vintage car and freedom. The old McKenna was out and the new McKenna Wellington was driving to Los Angeles, ready for whatever adventure awaited her.

CHAPTER THREE

SUNLIGHT HADN’T BEGUN to paint the horizon when McKenna hit the button and the garage door started its upward trek. Her heart thumped. After three years of working, testing, searching for parts and finally getting everything to work in unison, she was beginning her journey today.

McKenna slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The Corvette purred to life. Putting it in gear, she checked the mirrors and looked over her shoulder, ready to back out.

But her heart jumped into her throat and she stomped on the brake. The small car shrieked to a stop. McKenna threw it in Park and sprang out of the driver’s seat.

“Parker Fordum, what the hell are you doing here?”

He sauntered toward her. Getting too close and standing in her personal space, he looked down on her. “I thought you’d try something like this,” he said.

“Something like what?”

“Like leaving ahead of schedule. Like disappearing without a word. Like getting your butt into more trouble than you can get out of.”

“Well, who asked you to come along? I’m going by myself. Now get out of my way.”

He stood in the middle of the driveway. McKenna went back to the car and got in the driver’s seat. Before she could start the engine, Parker pulled up the passenger seat, dumped his duffle bag in the small space behind and climbed into the passenger seat.

“The car looks great.” He smiled genuinely. “Will it ride as smoothly as it did in the ’60s?”

Exasperated, she glanced behind her. His duffel bag used up more than the available space, pushing his seat slightly forward. And giving McKenna a view of his profile.

“Parker, get out. Go away. I don’t need you.”

“I’m going with you,” he stated as if it was a foregone conclusion.

“No, you’re not.”

“I promised Lydia I’d take care of you. Now, you have two choices.”

“Which are?”

“I weigh about 180. You can try to hoist me out of here and drive off alone.” He dropped his chin and looked at her with a doubting-Thomas expression. “I doubt you can do that, even with all the ingenuity Lydia tells me you have. Or you can back out of this garage and head for LA with me. Your choice.”

“Parker, we agreed yesterday that you were not coming with me.”

“No, yesterday I decided not to argue the point. It wasn’t going to make a difference, so why go through the effort.”

“That’s exactly why I don’t want you with me.”

“Because I don’t argue?”

“Yes, and because you’re not a companion. You’re just someone taking up a seat.”

For a long moment he said nothing. McKenna thought she’d gone too far. She didn’t usually insult people. It wouldn’t be good for business. And it wasn’t her personality.

Finally he spoke, repeating, “You have two choices.”

“I have one more choice,” she said, pulling the key out of the ignition. “I can stay here.”

He nodded. “That, too. But if you think you’re going to wait me out, I’ve already thought of that. I’ll park my SUV right in front of your garage. You can’t get this baby...” He looked approvingly at the upholstery. “Out of the garage without me knowing it. So you might be able to outsmart me and leave some other way, but it won’t be in this car.” Again he looked at the Corvette, checking the back over his shoulder. “She is a beaut. If she drives as well as she looks, I take my hat off to you. Lydia told me you built it from the ground up.”

“I’m not here to listen to your compliments.” McKenna sighed and propped her elbow on the open window, resting her chin in her hand.

“What’s it going to be? The road or breakfast? I’m hungry.”

McKenna got out of the car and went through the laundry room door into the house. Rage surged through her, giving her an instant headache. This is not how she had planned to begin her trip. Excitement had soared through her system last night. It was difficult to fall asleep. Details of her impromptu plan had run through her mind like a relay team handing off a baton, one runner after another. When she did sleep her dreams were peppered with images of Parker and Marshall. And now here Parker was, in the flesh, making her crazy.

She stood in her kitchen feeling useless. What was she going to do? She could try waiting him out. He had to get tired of blocking her driveway soon. But the determination with which he’d said he was going told her he was serious. She could call the police and report him as a trespasser. She wasn’t without friends on the force, but then Parker also had his contingent of buddies, too. One of the drawbacks of living in a small town.

She was going, she told herself decisively. This was her life and she wasn’t going to let him spoil it. Turning quickly, she walked back to the garage. Parker was sitting where she’d left him, tapping away on a laptop computer. He’d apparently adjusted his duffel bag, since the seat now sat flush with the back of the car. His apparent nonchalance angered her further. He really was a stick in the mud and a stubborn one at that.

“All right,” she said, holding back none of the venom from her voice. “You can go.”

He didn’t look up from his work.

“But there are rules.”

“Rules?” He continued to focus on the screen.

“This is my trip and we go with my decisions. You don’t question them and you don’t try to overrule me. This is not a vacation and we’re not a couple.”

He nodded, still not looking at her. McKenna wanted to grab the computer from him and snap it closed. He was not going to spoil her plan, she told herself. She’d spent years building this car. She was ready. Every detail had been planned up to this day. From here to the end, it was life as it came. She hated to admit it, but Parker had now become part of the life as it came scheme.

Opening the door to the car, McKenna slid into her seat. Parker closed the laptop and turned to her. “I have some rules, too,” he stated.

Surprised, she opened her mouth to say something, but before she could speak, he continued. “First, you will afford me the same respect that you would give to Lydia. You will talk to me with the same tone of voice that you would if she were here instead of me. I’m not going to go 2,400 miles fighting all the way. And don’t...” He stopped her when she was again about to say something. “Don’t tell me to stay here, because that’s a decision that has already been made.”

McKenna was taken aback. She’d never heard Parker speak with such force. Deep down it excited her to know he had a backbone somewhere. She’d always thought of him as weak and quiet, interested in nothing but being a dull college professor. Yet he really lived too well for that. At least, too well to subsist on a professor’s salary.

His home was huge and he drove a late-model SUV with custom appointments. He also had a sleek sports car that he roared along the highway in. McKenna had seen him once when she was on her way out of town.

“All right,” she conceded. She had been rude to him and that wasn’t like her.

He smiled. The moment held for a second longer than necessary. Then Parker quit it when he turned back in his seat and opened his computer.

“There’s one more thing,” McKenna said. She couldn’t believe she was about to say this, especially to a man she didn’t even like. “If we’re going to be together for most of the hours of the day, you can’t just sit there like a silent rock.”

“You want me to talk to you?” he asked, looking at her.

“Not especially. But if you’re going to go with me, I don’t want to be the driver and you the professor critiquing me the entire way.” She shifted in her seat. “Parker, this is the trip of a lifetime. It’s a chance to see a part of the world in a way we haven’t seen it before. It isn’t about driving. It’s about the landscape, the countryside, talking to people, enjoying what God gave us.” And learning about ourselves. The last she kept to herself.

“You’re asking a lot of a restored car and an old road. Are you sure that’s the real reason?”

McKenna hesitated and then decided to tell him the truth. “It’s not the entire reason. It’s about me, too. Who I am.”

He frowned.

“I’m not going into any further explanation. It’s personal, but I want to find something in myself that I’ve lost. Can you understand that? Don’t just let the scenery go by without giving it a look.”

After a minute, he nodded. She felt as if he was going to reach out and touch her. But he didn’t.

For a moment she was both grateful and disappointed. It had been three years since a man had touched her. Except for bumping into Parker a few days ago and finding his arms holding her, she’d hadn’t been close to a man. That small incident had reminded her that she missed it.

“Well, McKenna Wellington, it’s time to start your engine.”

* * *

IT DIDN’T TAKE long for the busy downtown streets of Chicago to morph into the rolling hills and open spaces of the countryside. It took longer for them to reach it, however. If McKenna had left on time, she’d have missed rush hour traffic. But her spat with Parker delayed her and she and Parker had to negotiate the bumper-to-bumper medley to get to the beginning of the journey. But they were on it now.

And her anger was almost gone. Her argument with Parker had given her a headache, but it was easing now. She’d forced herself to relax, forced her shoulders down and her breathing to return to normal. She’d even begun to play a silent game with the license tags on vehicles that passed her. It was something she used to do with her parents when they went on vacations. McKenna learned a lot of words and it was fun to stump her parents.

She smiled while remembering that as a tag went by with the letters F-T-R on it. Immediately she thought of the word father. After that the words came quickly and her headache was soon forgotten.

Parker hadn’t said much since she started driving, but he also hadn’t opened his computer and resumed his editing job. McKenna began to feel bad. She wasn’t usually angry at people. It was only around Parker that her temper seemed to get the better of her.

She searched for something to say. They had little in common. He was friends with Marshall, although McKenna could never figure out why the two liked each other. Marshall was outgoing, fun loving and always up for a challenge. Parker was the stay-at-home type. He categorized everything, didn’t speak much, at least not to her, and judged everyone and everything.

“Are you planning to teach in September?” McKenna finally asked.

“I am on the schedule,” he said.

“Suppose we’re not back by then?”

He glanced at her. “Still trying to get rid of me?”

“That’s not it,” she lied. She did want to get rid of him, but figured that plan was now dead. “I have no particular timetable I’m working with. I’m free as a bird and winging my way wherever the wind blows.” She tossed her hair to one side, suddenly feeling the exhilaration of the journey.

“If we’re still out on the road by then, I’ll make the decision to either leave you high and dry or get someone to cover my classes.”

He was smiling when McKenna looked at him, but she couldn’t read his face. McKenna had always avoided Parker. He and Marshall often arranged to meet at a restaurant or Marshall would go to his place and pick him up when they went out. Now she couldn’t tell if he was being facetious or serious.

He checked his watch. Then he pulled out his cell phone.

“Who are you calling?” she asked.

“I thought I’d check on Lydia. She should be awake by now.”

McKenna reached over and took the phone from him. She turned it off and dropped it in the unused ash tray.

“Why did you do that?”

“No cell phones, except in emergencies. We’re out of touch with everyone. If there’s an emergency, someone else will have to deal with it.”

“But I promised Lydia I’d call.”

“She’s going to be fine. We both heard the doctor say so. I ordered flowers to be sent to her this morning with a card that said I was leaving today. She’ll know why you didn’t call. And even if you did, what could you do?”

“You can’t honestly expect to drive all these miles without using a phone.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Suppose you need something? Don’t you have to check in occasionally and let people back home know you’re all right?”

“No one needs to know unless there’s an emergency. We can use pay phones if necessary. But I don’t want to be pulled into the minutia of life back in Woodbine Heights. If something’s going on there we can’t fix it.”

“You’re a real surprise, you know that?”

“What do you mean?” McKenna asked. Her stomach clenched, ready for another of his compliments couched in a joke.

“I never would have thought anyone like you would try doing what you’re doing.”

“What do you mean, ‘anyone like me’?”

“Don’t get your back up. I mean you always appeared so grounded, so much a person who knew where everything was. When you were running the company after Marshall’s death, from what Lydia told me, you were a perfect CEO, dealing with projections and next year’s forecast, new products and all the duties that come with being in charge. Now you’re driving off into the sunset with no set plan and only a few maps.”

He looked in the small pocket in the door. McKenna had stashed the maps there.

“What is this?” She pulled a plastic container from the side of his seat.

“A DVD cover. Lydia gave me the entire set.”

“Of Route 66?”

He nodded. “She was going to watch the old TV series, maybe duplicate Tod and Buz and their adventures in their red-and-white Corvette. She thought if I watched them it would make the trip more interesting. I loaded them on my computer.”

“Tod and Buz?” McKenna raised her eyebrows.

“The characters’ names in the series. Two guys, traveling the southwest and living off the land. Every episode was an adventure.”

“That’s right,” McKenna said.

“And you’re on your own adventure now?” he asked.

“I guess this means we both are.”

“So which one are you, Tod or Buz?”

McKenna smiled for the first time. “Since you’re the guest here, you should choose first,” she said.

“Oh, no.” He shook his head. “This is your fantasy. And I know nothing about Buz or Tod. You choose first.”

“Tod was the sensible one. He was blond and logical, always thinking the situation through.”

“Like a CEO?”

She nodded.

“So Buz was the dark angel? The one who shot first and discussed it later.”

“Right!”

“I guess that makes you...”

“Buz,” she answered for him.

He laughed, a hearty, belly laugh that McKenna found very pleasing. But then she remembered Marshall’s laugh and it reminded her that she would never hear it again.

And part of the reason for that was Parker.

* * *

IT HAD STARTED ALREADY, McKenna acknowledged. She sat up straighter, mentally shaking herself.

Parker had begun to talk. The two of them had had a civil conversation. McKenna couldn’t remember that ever being the case. They’d passed each other or avoided each other for years. Now she was sitting next to him, close enough to feel his body heat and smell his cologne. Who would have thought he even wore cologne? Or that he’d speak to her as if they were friends.

They pulled into a gas station and restaurant in Litchfield, Illinois. The Belvidere Café, Motel and Gas Station was closed and the building decaying, the pumps gone, but McKenna recognized it from her research. Only the café remained. The sign on it was faded and worn. Awnings, sporting areas of rust, hung over the windows.

She got out of the car and walked toward the brown-and-tan brick one-story building. Her feet crunched on the gravel path that had once led to a parking lot and motel rooms. Not even a ghost of them remained.

“At this rate,” Parker said. “It’ll take months to get to the coast.”

She looked at him. “Yes, it will,” was all she said.

Pulling a camera from the back of her seat, she took photographs from every angle.

“Are you planning to write a book with all these photos?”

She snapped one of Parker. Moving the camera down so she could see his life-size image, she said, “They are only for my benefit. Memories of the trip.”

Parker smiled, at least McKenna thought it was a smile. His lips pulled apart, but he said nothing, scrutinizing the building as if it had become more important thing in the world in the past three seconds.

“Give me the camera. I’ll take one of you next to the building.”

She did as he suggested, then went to stand below the faded sign.

“Not there,” Parker directed. “Over here.” He pointed to the space next to the building’s single step. She moved to where he indicated. “I can get the sign and you and the building at the same time.”

McKenna wondered if she should smile. She decided to do so. This was a fun trip and she felt as if they were getting somewhere, even if they were only an hour out of Chicago.

She heard the click of the shutter opening and closing.

“Don’t move,” he said as she began to come forward. “I’ll get a few more. The building is interesting, now that I’ve had a chance to look at it.”

Parker took several more shots before McKenna stopped him. She offered to take photos of him, but he declined.

Turning to focus on the building, McKenna thought of Marshall. This should have been his trip, their trip together. She’d considered taking it with him. The two of them had talked about it. Yet somehow the business always came first, except— McKenna stopped as Parker walked into her view. She frowned.

Parker had been with Marshall last. The ski trip. McKenna didn’t like skiing. She was pretty good at ice-skating, but she felt the huge skis were unwieldy. And she hadn’t wanted to be around Parker. So the two men had gone off together.

But only one had come back.

“McKenna!”

She jolted at the strength of Parker’s voice.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his tone calmer.

“Fine,” she said. He must have seen the look on her face. Thankfully he couldn’t read her thoughts. At least she hoped he couldn’t.

“You looked as if you were thinking of something painful.”

“It’s just the sun.” She squinted at the sky. The sun was high and bright, although it wasn’t the cause of her pain.

“Maybe we should get something to eat or drink,” Parker suggested.

“Are you hungry already?” she asked.

“Not especially, but I would like something to drink.”

McKenna had a small cooler behind her seat. It held six small bottles of water. She didn’t mention it.

“Good idea,” she said.

“Wow, what a car,” someone said from behind Parker.

McKenna whipped around. A short man with white hair and an even whiter beard stood next to the Corvette. He was dressed in worn but clean jeans and a T-shirt bearing the faded logo of a Budweiser beer can.

“I haven’t seen one of these in ages,” he said. “You folks driving The 66?”

McKenna had never heard the road referred to as The 66 before.

“We are,” Parker replied.

“In this?” He indicated the car, admiration evident in his tone.

“That’s our intention,” McKenna stated.

His eyes came up, but his head didn’t move. He reminded McKenna of a professor she once had who looked over his glasses more than through them. He was the one who told her she had no aptitude for mechanical drawing.

“Where’d you get this? Hasn’t been made for years.”

“Decades,” McKenna corrected.

“The lady—”

“My husband and I planned it.”

She and Parker had spoken at the same time. McKenna was unsure why that happened. Marshall had been on her mind and the words were out before she thought about it.

He looked at Parker. “No stuff?” he asked.

“None,” Parker smiled, but did not correct the mistake.

Still, McKenna decided, she liked the man.

“In my youth, I used to work on cars. Lived back in Detroit then. Ford was my company. Never worked on one of these babies.” Again the man looked at the car as if it was a past lover.

“Any idea what the road looks like ahead of us?” Parker asked. Apparently the pragmatist was rising to the surface again.

“It’ll be all right for a few miles, but be careful. With a low car like this, you could pull the chassis right out from under her.”

“We will,” Parker said.

Both shook hands with the man and got in the car. He waited until they drove away. McKenna saw him still standing in place until the car turned the corner several blocks away. Not far from the Belvidere was the Ariston Café, also on Route 66, although the facade was reminiscent of The Alamo in San Antonio. The café had opened its doors in 1935 and was still operating.

After the photo session, which McKenna repeated, she and Parker had lunch there before getting on the road and continuing their journey. During their meal, they didn’t mention the subject that was on McKenna’s mind. She wondered if Parker thought of it, too.

When they were back in the Corvette, she finally brought it up.

“Back there,” she began, not indicating where she meant on the road behind them or any of the places they had been since beginning this journey. “When the old man assumed you were my husband.”

He glanced at her. Since McKenna was driving, she couldn’t look at him for more than a second.

“Why didn’t you correct him?” she asked.

For a while, Parker didn’t say anything. McKenna glanced at him twice.

“He kept talking and he was so admiring the car, I didn’t think anything of it. Did it bother you?”

“No,” she said. It wasn’t exactly the truth.

“Why did you bring it up, then?”

“Well,” she hedged. “I thought it was the polite thing to do.”

“Then I’d have to explain to someone not of our generation that we were traveling companions, but not lovers.”

This was not going the way she assumed it would. McKenna was sorry she’d made a point of it.

“You don’t think he’d understand?”

“I don’t think he’d believe it.”

“Why not?”

Parker didn’t reply. When coaxed, he said. “Let’s just say, you should look in the mirror once in a while.”

McKenna was still wondering what he meant by that when the sun was going down. She knew he was married and divorced. She felt slightly uncomfortable that he hadn’t spoken up to correct the old man’s impression of them, but then, neither had she. And she had no reason that explained her own silence.

“Are we going to drive during the night?” Parker interrupted her thoughts. “Or only while there’s daylight?”

“During the day,” she said. “I want to see what can be seen and not have to wonder about the road.”

“Good idea. Glad we’re on the same page with that,” Parker said.

* * *

PARKER MARVELED AT the feel of the car. He understood why people stopped them on the street and in parking lots to admire the beauty of this creation. What they didn’t know was what it felt like to sit behind the wheel, to drive this vehicle, to know what it meant to hug the road and corner a turn as if the car was one with the pavement. Parker felt confined with the speed limit. He wanted to open the engine up, give it its due and let it go as fast as it could.

He thought of McKenna that night on the practice track. Her face glowed under the lamp lights as she emerged from this car. Parker had never been one for most of the things men liked in life, but he loved cars. The moment he saw it sitting on the track, he knew it was something he wanted to drive.

The day was clear, and the road was theirs. If he and McKenna never agreed on anything, this car was definitely a point where they could come together. Checking on her, he saw she was watching the road. For both of them, Route 66 was a new experience. The top was down on the car and Parker felt the breeze.

* * *

THE ROAD WASN’T as bad as McKenna expected it would be, but they weren’t far from Chicago yet. She’d studied maps and checked on the internet, but there was no telling if they were current. Weather from the past winter could have washed part of the blacktop away or completely broken it into shards of gravel. There was also snowplow damage and the destructive Midwestern wind.

The speed limit was lower than the highway speed, so if there was something in their way, they would likely see it in enough time to avoid it. At least she could. She didn’t know about Parker, but Marshall had told her he was a competent driver.

Maybe, she thought. She had yet to experience it. He sat silently next to her tapping keys on a small computer. The computer was a concession. He was editing a book that had a deadline. She’d agreed to him bringing it along, but not to use it to look up things about the trip. Adventure came in not knowing.

Still, she would rather talk to him than just drive. If she’d been alone, she’d play the radio, sing along to the popular songs and keep herself busy that way. With Parker, she felt as if she was being intolerant of his need to concentrate.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“There’s something on your mind. I can hear it.”

“Really? Then do I need to tell you what it is?”

His laugh was more a grunt. “I’m not that psychic.”

“I was wondering how your book was coming.”

“You were wondering if I planned to stare at my machine all the way to the Pacific Coast Highway.”

McKenna smiled and relaxed her shoulders. “I guess you are psychic.”

He closed the top of the machine and turned in his seat to face her. That action caused a small flutter in her stomach. She wanted to talk to him, but now that he was giving her his full attention, she was unsure of what to say.

“You’re just easy to read,” he said.

“I am?”

“When your mind is churning.”

“I know you have a deadline for your book, so I don’t want to keep you from getting it done.”

“But why look at a computer screen, when there is a world out there I’m missing?” He indicated the window on her side of the car.

McKenna nodded.

“There isn’t much out there. The trees and shrubs look pretty much the same as any along a highway, except these go by at a slower pace.

Wasn’t that just like him? He didn’t see the beauty of slowing down. McKenna contained her sigh. She may as well be alone for all the company Parker provided. For a while she thought they were going to be all right, friendly even, but he’d crawled back into the cubbyhole he’d built for himself and it wasn’t large enough for anyone other than him. Not that the right woman wouldn’t mind the tight squeeze.

McKenna stifled a laugh. She never thought of Parker being affectionate with a woman. He’d been divorced for years and never dated since, as far as she could remember. McKenna supposed he was set in his ways, like old people get. Lydia had said he wasn’t old, but so far she saw no indication of that.

* * *

THEY HAD BARELY crossed the Illinois border into Missouri when the sun started to set. It would be dark in an hour. McKenna knew they could be farther along if she hadn’t stopped to take so many pictures, but she felt no guilt over the delay. This was how she envisioned the trip, taking her time, recording what she wanted, going down paths that looked interesting.

Parker hadn’t complained since asking if they were going to drive during the night. He’d gone back to his computer screen, only offering an occasion comment on the landscape. McKenna felt he was letting her know he could both write and watch what was happening at the same time.

When McKenna turned into the town of Carthage, he snapped the lid of his laptop closed and looked up. McKenna could almost see the coils in his mind assessing where they were and all aspects of the area around them. She stopped the car at a gas station and looked across at Parker.

“Carthage,” she said, unnecessarily.

“Missouri?” Parker asked.

McKenna confirmed.

“If we stop now, we could get something to eat and find a place to stay for the night?” Parker suggested. “There’ll be enough light for us to walk around the town and see some of it.”

“Good idea,” McKenna said.

They both got out of the car and Parker had the pump in his hands when two guys approached them.

“Man, what I would give for one of these,” one of them said, obviously in awe. He was wearing a nondescript colored uniform that looked as if it was a combination of dark green and jet-black oil. Over the pocket the name Nick had been stitched into the fabric.

Parker turned to her and raised his eyebrows as if they had a secret. McKenna nodded with a smile. Parker returned it and for a long moment she held it.

“Where did you find such a treasure?” the man without Nick on his uniform asked. McKenna’s attention was pulled away from her traveling companion.

She watched the two men admiring the car. The second man was wearing the same color uniform as the first, only the name on his pocket said Willie. Willie moved around the car, perusing it as if it were a spaceship that might take off at any second, yet the fascination was too much to ignore.

“I didn’t find it,” Parker said. “The lady built it.” He turned to include McKenna as she came level with them.

“Is that the honest truth?” Both of them stared at her, clearly assessing whether to believe Parker or not. Then their eyes went back to the Corvette.

“She’s quite ingenious,” Parker said, still gesturing at McKenna. His gaze made her warm and she scanned the ground until Parker pulled the gas hose out of the car and replaced the cap.

“What kind of engine does it have?” Nick asked.

McKenna wasn’t sure if this was a test or not, but she decided to let them know she knew her stuff. Since both men had come through the door of the station and not one of the open bays, and they were both dressed alike, she was unsure if one or both were mechanics.

“It’s a 283-cubic-inch engine. It has the power of 230 horses. The original Wonderbar AM/FM radio is installed along with a cassette player. The car is a soft top with the original Roman Red paint and white coves, T-10 transmission, 3.55 rear, stainless exhaust, sun visors, windshield washers, courtesy light, heater, seat belts, hubcaps and wide white radials. And she drives like a dream.”

“Da-mn,” Nick said, stretching the word into two syllables. His voice was full of awe. McKenna knew he was imagining himself behind the wheel, speeding through the countryside, his foot to the floor as the mighty engine released its power on the straightaway. She recognized those feelings. They’d coursed through her own veins the first time she took it out and couldn’t resist not having it tap its full potential.

“Is there a place around here we can get something to eat, maybe find a motel to stay the night?” Parker asked.

They got directions, paid for the gas and set out, leaving two awestruck attendants in their wake.

“We can probably expect this kind of reception anytime we park this car,” Parker said. He was relaxed, his arm across the back of her seat. It wasn’t touching her, but it might as well have been. McKenna could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. And the heat from his fingers tinged the air between them and caressed her neck. With her hair secured in a ponytail, she could feel the redness spread around her nape.

“I know,” she replied. “It’s one of the reasons I chose to build it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“A trip of this length means you need to meet people. The car is a way of doing that.”

“You have everything planned out, down to the last detail. Are you sure you want to be Buz? You’re acting more like Tod.”

“That was before we left. Now that all the planning is done, the execution is whatever comes.”

She pulled into a parking space on the main street in front of a café with gingham curtains covering the lower part of the window. Before they were out of the car, people had begun to peer between the curtains at them. Parker exited the car and came around to open her door. McKenna was surprised. He offered his hand and helped her up from the low riding vehicle. Once she was standing, he dropped his hand.

Inside, McKenna chose a table near the windows. Every eye in the place followed their movement.

“That’s a great car,” a man of about thirty at the next table said before the waitress came over. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen one of those.”

“’59 Corvette.” McKenna answered his unasked question.

“’59, huh?” Another man left his table and the woman with him to come over and stare out through the window. McKenna estimated his age at around sixty. He wore a short haircut and jeans and shirt that seemed as if they’d seen many days of hard work. “What a beauty. And she looks like she just came off the assembly line.”

A small gathering of people had left the restaurant to get a better look at the car.

“Almost,” McKenna stated, not explaining anything further.

“Is she yours?” He swung his gaze between the two of them.

McKenna nodded.

“Wanna sell her?”

McKenna’s eyes opened wide. It was the last question she’d expected. The idea of selling the car had never entered her mind. It had a purpose and while she’d put it together it had become part of her personality. Selling it wasn’t an option.

“It’s not for sale,” she said.

“Well, if you change your mind, give me a call.” He took a business card from his shirt pocket and thrust it toward Parker.

“It’s the lady’s car,” Parker said. “She’s done everything for it except date it.”

McKenna gave him a startled look.

“How’d you happen to come by a car like this?” the thirtysomething asked.

“Always wanted a Corvette. I have a couple of brothers who were interested in cars,” she answered.

“One of them restore this for you?”

“Afraid not,” McKenna told him. “Restored it myself.”

“You’re a woman after my own heart,” the sixty-year-old said. The woman he’d left behind at his table made a rude noise.

“I love you, honey,” he tossed over his shoulder. “But this is a car.” He looked at McKenna with a quiet appreciation in his eyes. “When I was a boy, a guy down the street from me had one of these. We always knew when he was coming or going.” He shook his head, as if remembering a better time in his life. “Man, did the girls go for him.”

“If you’ll all move away, I’ll take their order,” the waitress said.

McKenna and Parker acknowledged the woman, dressed in a skirt and a tight T-shirt, and gave their order. While the café patrons moved back to their tables, the discussion remained on the car, with everyone participating as if they were all from the same family, discussing an amusing incident that had just occurred.

“What’s your name?” a woman asked.

“McKenna Wellington,” she said. “This is Parker Fordum.”

“Y’all married?”

“No,” Parker replied. “We’re driving buddies. This is Buz and I’m Tod.”

“Yeah?” an old woman spoke from a dark corner. She got up and walked over to them. Pointing a finger, she punctuated the air in a staccato cadence as if she were tapping out a message. “Buz and Tod. And that car. Don’t sound real to me. I remember that television program. What was it?” Her question was directed inward. She was trying to remember.

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