Christmas Waffle Caper (The Wicked Waffle Series Book 4) Page 3

  “Now, how much did she owe you?” he asked finally.

  “The total comes out to twenty-four fifty,” she informed him with a grateful sigh.

  “Alright then.” Digging into his pocket, he retrieved his wallet and produced a fifty. “Here you go. Keep the change.”

  Sonja’s eyes burst wide at the money. “Wow, t-thank you.”

  “No, thank you. And a Merry Christmas to you.”

  “Thanks,” she waved. Her night had just gotten way better.

  “Drive safe,” he called after her as she opened the door and stepped out into the night.

  Frank, sitting in the front seat of the car, looked like a grumpy child pouting in the time-out chair. Sonja strained not to laugh at him.

  Upon seeing her, his face lit up.

  However, almost as quickly as he had smiled, he turned to surprise.

  Sonja couldn’t quite tell what was wrong immediately, not until she realized Frank was getting farther away—as if he were gliding from her.

  Then, she let out a scream “Frank,” she cried as she had the horrible realization.

  The truck had lost its grip on the snowy incline and was sliding backwards down the hill.

  Frank was frantically trying to do something with the brakes and then the gas. His face turned deathly white as the truck disappeared over the precipice and slipped quickly down out of sight.

  Seconds later, a loud and teeth chattering crash echoed out into the frosted night.

  CHAPTER 5

  * * *

  “Frank,” she called out again, running as fast as she could down the hill toward the truck. The county issued vehicle was wedged up against a tree about halfway down the hill. The back tires were raised up off the ground while the front ones were edged into a bank of snow.

  Reaching the car, she swung open the passenger door. “Frank, oh my goodness. Are you okay?”

  Unbuckling himself, he shifted over to the seat next to her. “I think I’m fine. Just a little shaken up is all.”

  Grabbing him in a tight hug, she could feel his body vibrating from the stress of the situation. “What the heck happened?”

  “I guess, because I had the engine running, the snow under the car started to melt. The next thing I knew, I was sliding backwards down the hill.”

  Sonja glanced back at the tree and the crumpled bed of the truck. Then she cast her eyes down the rest of the road, where it only got steeper until it met up with the main road. “Whoa, thank goodness you hit the tree when you did. I’d hate to think what would have happened if you continued rolling down like that.”

  “What’s the damage like?” he groaned, finally stepping out of the truck and examining the impact.

  “It looks like you’ll need a little body work, but besides that, the truck looks fine,” she said.

  “Thank goodness for that. After all, this is a county-issued truck. If I’d totaled it during the first week of use, I could be in big trouble. I’m glad things weren’t worse.”

  “So, am I,” Sonja agreed, hugging him again. Her mind wasn’t on the worries of what the county might say, or the possible fees that may be incurred if Frank was decided to be at fault, but on Frank himself. He could have been seriously injured. Sonja was grateful he wasn’t, but the shock alone of potentially losing him before they could be married was awful.

  “Is everyone okay down there? I heard screams and a crash,” a man called from the top of the hill. Sonja glanced up and saw that it was Pritchard, the man who’d paid her.

  “We think so,” she replied, waving at him.

  “Do you need any help?” he called back.

  Sonja glanced at Frank, who glanced at the truck. “Let me try and pull her out. If I can safely drive her the rest of the way down the hill, we should be home free.”

  “And if not?”

  “We call in a tow,” he sighed.

  Sonja turned back to look up at Pritchard. “We are okay, and the truck is a little dented up. Nothing too bad.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  “We’ll try and pull the truck out first.”

  “Okay, if you need help, I’ll be inside,” he waved, disappearing back toward the cabin.

  Sonja folded her arms against the cold. It was setting in again as the warmth of her adrenaline rush was wearing off. She wondered if Frank would have some sore muscles, or maybe even whiplash, once his adrenaline dissipated.

  “Are you sure you’re okay doing this?” she asked, worried about how shaky he’d felt in her arms.

  “I’m fine. Besides, we should get out of here anyway. The best way to do that is to just try the truck.”

  “Okay,” Sonja reluctantly agreed, taking a few steps back to be out of the way of the truck.

  Climbing in and sliding behind the wheel, Frank revved the engine to test it was running safely. “Seems okay so far,” He called out to her as he rolled down the window.

  “Just be careful,” she urged. Already, she was beginning to feel like a worried wife. Was this how it was going to be all the time, her sitting at home worrying about him coming home safe from work on the force every day?

  Shaking her head, she laughed internally. Of course, that wasn’t how it was going to be. After all, she had her own business to run. She’d be too busy to just sit around the house.

  Thank goodness for that, she sighed.

  Putting the car into drive, Frank slowly hit the gas. Unfortunately, the back tires made a whirring noise as they spun in midair, not having anything to grip on to.

  “You’ll have to try four-wheel drive, I think,” she mentioned, wondering why he didn’t have it on already.

  “Right,” he agreed, leaning toward the dash and hitting the button. Easing on the gas again, the front wheels began to turn slowly, and then faster. Streams of grayish slush and snow erupted up in spouts from the wheels.

  However, the truck didn’t move forward or back. If anything, it simply dug itself deeper into the snow drift.

  Frank pumped the gas again.

  “It’s making it worse,” she called to him with a wave.

  Shaking his head, he tried one more time, insistent on getting out of there. It was clear the last thing he wanted was to be stranded at six-six-six Sycamore Lane. Letting out a loud groan of frustration, he shut off the engine and took out the keys.

  “No luck?” Sonja called as he slid to the passenger side and got out.

  He shook his head. “I think we’re stuck here.”

  CHAPTER 6

  * * *

  As soon as they’d realized there would be no leaving, for the time being, Frank and Sonja had adjourned to the house for warmth while they made a few phone calls. Much to Corrine’s apparent displeasure with the situation, Pritchard and his father welcomed them in with open arms.

  Sonja wasn’t sure exactly why Corrine was so against their presence, but she seemed openly displeased with the evening's events, even if she didn’t say it specifically. She’d simply huffed and stomped up the wooden staircase to the second floor.

  Sonja could only guess that the woman was already at her wit's end thanks to the problems she was having over the phone. Some people treated their dog or their cat like a member of the family, so it would be no surprise if Corrine was already raw from the loss of a beloved animal.

  Frank and Sonja’s unexpected presence was likely just the cherry on top of the cake.

  Sonja sat in the living room while Frank stepped into the little stairway alcove to use his cellphone to call for help.

  “Here, I thought you might like something warm. I just had the chef whip it up,” Pritchard mentioned as he emerged from the kitchen and set a cup of steaming hot chocolate and a plate of Christmas cookies on the coffee table. The cookies were in the shapes of candy canes, gingerbread men, and little snowy houses—each one decorated with frosting.

  “They’re beautiful, thank you,” she said, picking up the mug and taking a sip. She instantly felt her cheeks growing warmer from the smoo
th liquid. It had a dark taste, roasted even, with just a touch of spice.

  “It’s Mexican chocolate. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Oh, believe me, it is. This truly hits the spot.”

  “I’m glad.”

  A fire was roaring in the large fireplace just across from the couch. Five stockings hung over the mantelpiece, each with a name. Pritchard, Corrine, Bethany, Terrance, and Annabeth were each embroidered beautifully in red and gold thread.

  Sonja guessed that Terrance was the older gentleman, Pritchard’s father.

  However, she couldn’t place who Annabeth was. Her ultimate guess was that it had to be the chef.

  This fact warmed Sonja. It was nice to see that the chef was included in the family festivities. So often, the normal everyday workers—staff, cashiers, stockers, customer service—all got overlooked and ignored.

  “Is your husband calling for a tow?” Pritchard asked.

  Sonja nodded. “Yep. Looks like we don’t have another choice.”

  “I suppose not.”

  Sonja giggled. “And, he’s not my husband. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply.”

  “No, no, he is my fiancé.”

  Pritchard’s large beaming smile returned. “Oh, how lovely. Congratulations are in order?”

  “Thank you,” she bowed slightly, picking up one of the cookies.

  A few moments later, Frank entered the room with a sour grimace on his lip.

  “Any luck getting a tow tonight?” Pritchard asked as Frank walked across the room staring at his cell phone.

  “None,” Frank finally answered the question pocketing the phone.

  “None?” Sonja exclaimed, standing up from the couch where she’d been sitting.

  “It turns out after we crossed the lake, the ferry broke down. It’ll be out of commission until at least until morning.”

  “You can’t be serious?” she exclaimed.

  “I am.”

  “What about Alison’s white elephant party?” she pressed, feeling her heart pounding and her hands shaking from anxiety.

  He shrugged. “I guess we’re not going, are we?”

  Sonja let her shoulder’s slump as she slid down onto the couch. “I guess I better call her and tell her we won’t be there.”

  “That sounds like the best idea,” Frank agreed, walking around the coffee table and eyeballing the cookies.

  “I had the chef whip them up, special for you two. It’s hard enough to be stranded, I thought you guys might like something warm to eat and drink.” He motioned to the second cup of hot cocoa he’d brought in. “It’s Mexican chocolate. I hope that’s okay.”

  “More than okay,” Frank admitted, leaning down and grabbing the mug along with the cookie. Biting into the corner of the frosted house, he chewed and swallowed it down, looking happy to have something tasty to ease the pain of the situation. “Anyway, I have to make a few more phone calls. I’ll need to call a cab from the next town over to come and give us a ride to a motel.”

  “But that’s almost an hour away in this weather,” Pritchard protested.

  Frank could only give a shrug. “What else can we do? We have to find somewhere to stay the night.”

  Pritchard stepped forward, straightening his back like an army general. “Why, you can stay right here, if you don’t mind the company.”

  Frank’s eyes widened at the offer. “Wait a minute, are you serious?”

  “Of course, a person in need is a friend of mine, to be sure.”

  “I’m not sure we could impose,” Sonja chimed in.

  Frank’s face indicated he was not happy with his fiancé’s interjection. “I mean, I know Corrine is already upset about something, and I wouldn’t want to make things harder for her.”

  Pritchard waved a hand. “Nonsense. My wife can be a tad bit overdramatic. That’s no reason for us not to help you.”

  “Are you sure?” Sonja pressed, not wanting to be a nuisance or a burden.

  “I’m positive, my dear. Having the company would be splendid.” Leaning down, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “Just between us, I was already growing a little tired of being cooped up here with my grumpy parents and my picky wife.”

  Sonja let out a nervous laugh, unsure if he was serious or joking.

  “It’s settled then. I’ll have the guest room set up.” With a gladsome twirl of his wrist, he turned around and walked into the kitchen.

  Sonja looked up at Frank, wondering how he was doing with this.

  Giving his trademark half-smile, he shrugged one shoulder. “Looks like we’re here for the night.”

  Sonja couldn’t help but worry about him, still, what with the door being plastered with the numbers six-six-six.

  CHAPTER 7

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, the two mugs of hot cocoa were drunk dry and the plate of cookies was all but ransacked. Only a single gingerbread man remained amongst some crumbs and bits of frosting.

  “This way, sir, and ma’am. The rest of the staff is off this evening, so I’ll be showing you to your room,” the chef said. She wore a simple pair of jeans and a sweater, nothing fancy, and certainly not your normal Edwardian look. It was nice to see that she didn’t have to wear that ridiculous costume. The chef motioned to Frank and Sonja for them to follow.

  “The cookies were excellent,” Sonja said, standing up and thanking the chef.

  The little portly woman beamed. “They’re my specialty, ma’am. I make em’ every year for my own family.”

  “I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” Frank admitted, also standing.

  “Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to the bedroom.”

  Suddenly, the synapses in Sonja’s brain fired off as she finally realized the implications of what was happening. “Wait, one room?”

  “Yes, ma’am. The guest bedroom.”

  Before Sonja could make any kind of protest, the chef had walked out of the room and into the entry hall. Frank and Sonja quickly followed behind.

  Her legs were shaking slightly as she walked along. She personally felt like she might just faint from nervousness at the prospect of having to share a bed with Frank. Sonja was no prude, of course, but she was a little old-fashioned. She firmly believed it was better for a relationship if they waited until they were married.

  Almost as if he’d read her mind, Frank placed a hand on Sonja’s shoulder and whispered into her ear. “Don’t you worry. We’ll figure it out.”

  A small sense of calm washed over his nervous fiancée. She was so glad to have a man like Frank in her life. He was respectful, loving, and always trying to think of her first.

  Of course, he had a slight temper, but that didn’t stop her from loving him.

  Walking up the large wooden staircase, they came to a door at the very top, overlooking the balcony. “In here,” the chef instructed, opening the doorway for them.

  The room was small but cozy. A miniature hearth sat across from the foot of the king-sized bed, already popping with the beginnings of a fresh fire. The bed was turned down and looked warm after they had been out in the cold so much that evening. Across the room was a bay window with a cushion seat in it. It was the perfect place to sit and look out on the snowy evening outside.

  “Mr. Pritchard has provided both of you with robes, as well as pajamas,” the chef announced motioning to the trunk at the end of the bed. Two matching silk red robes lay there, along with pajama pants and shirts in the same color. “He tried to guess your size and pulled things from his and Mrs. Corrine’s closets.”

  “Oh, we can’t take their pajamas,” Sonja protested.

  “They have plenty of robes and pajamas of their own. Believe me.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  “If the fit isn’t right, just give me a holler and I’ll ask Mr. Pritchard to see what he can come up with.” She pointed to the golden yellow pull cord just beside the bed.

  Was this for real? D
id the cabin have an entire bell system to call on the chef? It definitely seemed over the top, but Sonja hardly felt like she was one to make any kind of judgments. After all, she herself lived on a large estate. She was the named caretaker for an old friend.

  Although, there weren’t any kind of servants there at the house anymore.

  “You have a private bathroom through there, and I’ve provided you with toiletries. If you’re missing anything crucial, let me know.”

  “We will,” Frank smiled warmly, letting the woman know it was okay for her to go.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should take Mr. Terrance his nightly medicine,” she gave a slight bow before exiting, shutting the door behind herself.

  Once she was gone, Sonja eyeballed the bed while she twisted her fingers together in a sign of anxiety. Next, her eyes darted toward Frank. “T-They gave us only one room.”

  “Of course, they did. Most people nowadays assume that engaged couples sleep together.”

  “But we don’t,” she protested.

  He nodded. “I know that, but we don’t want to be rude by asking for yet more accommodations. They’ve already been so generous in letting us stay here at the last second, like this.”

  “I guess, you’re right,” she agreed, looking at the bed again.

  “However,” he chimed in, walking across the room and taking a seat in the window, “this seems comfortable enough.” Kicking off his shoes, he laid back onto the cushions.

  “Wait a minute, you can’t sleep there.”

  “Of course, I can, and I will. I want to make sure you’re as one hundred percent comfortable as possible.”

  Sonja couldn’t help but let out a little sigh of relief. She wasn’t super happy still about having to share a room, but at least this way they weren’t in the same bed. “I’m shorter than you. I should be the one sleeping there.”

  “Not on your life,” he argued.

  “What?”

  “You get that big warm bed. I’ll just borrow some extra blankets. I’m sure they have some tucked away in that chest there.” Hopping up, he moved over and opened the chest. Sure enough, it was stuffed full of blankets. “Bingo.”