Cindi Myers - Detour Ahead

“Susan!” Marlee rolled her eyes. Though Susan fancied herself a matchmaker, the truth was, her fixups always ended up broken. “I’m coming to be with you at your wedding, not to meet a man.”

“But this one would be perfect for you.”

“Right. Like that accordion player—what was his name, Terry?”

“Larry. And I thought you’d appreciate his quirkiness.”

“He was a horrible accordion player. And his idea of a hot date was a visit to the Air and Space Museum, to look at every single exhibit.”

“So I was a little off with that one. This guy I know you’ll like. But first you have to get here to meet him. Without a driver’s license, how are you going to do that? I know you won’t fly.”

Marlee shuddered. Looking at all those planes at the museum had been bad enough—no way was she getting on one. “Maybe I could take a bus.” She glanced over at the computer on her credenza. A chorus line of chimpanzees tap-danced their way across the monitor screen. Could she look up bus schedules online?

“Ick. It would take a week. You’d be a wreck by the time you got here. I don’t want my maid of honor looking like she slept sitting up for a week.”

Marlee sighed. She didn’t particularly want to try sleeping sitting up. Now that she was on the downhill slide toward thirty, even a couple of nights of less than blissful slumber made fine lines and dark circles appear out of nowhere. “What about the train?”

“Hello? Have you ever checked an Amtrak schedule? To get from D.C. to San Diego you have to change trains umpteen times and it takes like four days. It would be as bad as the bus. And way more expensive.”

“I guess I could try to catch a ride with someone else. Any other guests driving from D.C. to San Diego for the wedding?” Susan and Bryan had met in the capital city, so it stood to reason other wedding guests were from here. Though most of them were probably flying. Let them trust their lives to a heavy metal tube floating on air. She’d stay firmly on the ground, thank you very much.

“That’s a brilliant idea!” Susan sounded thrilled.

“It is?” As ideas went, it didn’t sound particularly spectacular to Marlee. She spent every day designing wildly creative ads for non-profits. Using rappers to promote the Reading Is Fundamental program—now that was a brilliant idea, but this…?

“Craig Brinkman is driving from D.C. You can ride with him.”

“Uh-huh. Who is Craig Brinkman?” She picked up a pencil and wrote a note for herself to call the metro library about a photo shoot.

“He’s Bryan’s old college roommate. The best man, as a matter of fact. It’s the perfect solution.”

“This isn’t the guy you’re trying to fix me up with, is it? Because I really don’t want to be fixed up right now.” Or ever, if Susan was doing the fixing. She was a great friend, but she didn’t have a clue what Marlee really wanted in a man. But then, Marlee wasn’t too sure on that score either.

“Craig?” Susan’s laugh came out more like a snort. “Absolutely not. Craig Brinkman is definitely not your type.”

“Why do you say that? If he’s so awful, why are you suggesting I travel all the way across the country with him?”

“He’s not awful. In fact, he’s a really nice guy. But he’s sort of uptight. A real overachiever.”

Marlee looked around her closet office. “And I’m an underachiever.” Ouch.

“You’re just not as ambitious as Craig. I mean, this is the man with a plan—for everything.”

She made a face. Craig Brinkman definitely didn’t sound like her type of guy. And not someone she wanted to spend a week in close quarters with. With her laid-back approach to life, she’d have him driving off a cliff inside of two days. Three, tops. “I don’t know, Suz. Drive cross-country with a man I’ve never even met? It seems kind of weird.”

“Craig’s a nice guy, really. One thing about being anal, he won’t get lost. And he’s one of Bryan’s oldest friends. You like Bryan, don’t you?”

As if I’d be clueless enough to tell you if I didn’t like the man you’re going to marry. But thankfully, she didn’t have to fake liking Bryan Fredericks. He was a genuinely good guy. Chances were this friend of his was a good guy too. Still…

“Craig will probably appreciate the company,” Susan continued. “And you can split expenses. I’ll have Bryan call him and set it all up.”

Marlee chewed her lower lip. If she was going to make Susan’s wedding, it was either gut it up to get on a plane, or accept a ride with mysterious Craig. “Okay. And thanks. I dreaded the thought of having to miss your wedding.”

“No way are you going to miss this. How many other best friends do you think I have? It’s too late to order another dress—or to find another gal pal.”

Marlee laughed. “Thanks. I can’t wait to see you again.”

“I can’t wait to see you. I need you here to help me deal with all the wedding craziness.”

“That bad, huh?”

“You try interviewing six caterers and three florists in one week. It’s enough to make me want to elope.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“I said I was crazy, not insane. I’ve waited years for my dream wedding and I won’t let anything stop me from having it. Including a maid of honor with no sense of direction.”

“Right, well, have this Craig guy give me a call. We’ll see if we can’t work something out.” She hung up the phone and relaxed in her chair, bouncing against the springy back. Susan sounded so happy. So in love. The tiniest pinch of jealousy grabbed hold of Marlee. Why did some women find love so easily while others never seemed to get a break?

She herself had had about as much luck finding Mr. Right as she did finding her way around the city in traffic. Maybe whatever genetic flaw led to her always getting lost was connected to her inability to sustain a relationship. Sure, she had plenty of male friends, but not one special man. Men didn’t take her seriously. Her last boyfriend had flat-out told her he couldn’t plan a future with a woman who didn’t even think about lunch ahead of time.

So what was wrong with being spontaneous? Her motto was Be Prepared—for Anything!

She sat straight in her chair again and resolutely opened the file for RIF. Was her carefree attitude a sign of immaturity? After all, what kind of grown woman lost her license? And while all her friends had moved on to high-profile jobs and fancy homes and families of their own, she still lived in a funky little carriage-house apartment in Georgetown, and had a job that provided more satisfaction than salary. No wonder men looking to settle down steered clear of her.

She let out another sigh and told herself to concentrate on work. Marching along to a set plan for her life sounded like sheer drudgery. She couldn’t see living in a certain kind of house or working a certain kind of job just because it was expected. She needed more freedom to move around, to go with the flow.

If that made her man-poison, so be it. Except for her lackluster love life, she was happy, and what more could a girl ask for?

Except maybe a better internal compass.

FROM: TopToque@govnet.net

To: Marlee@TWM.com

Subject: Driving to San Diego

Understand you need ride to Bry & Suz’s wedding. Am leaving Sat. June 6, 8 a.m. sharp. You’re welcome if you can pay your expenses. Expect 5 nights on road. Let me know ASAP.

Marlee frowned at the e-mail message that showed up in her box two days after her conversation with Susan. She assumed this “TopToque” character was Craig Brinkman. He wasn’t much on small talk, was he? A little “Hello, how are you, my name’s Craig,” wouldn’t have been out of line, would it?