Without a Hitch by Mary Hollis Huddleston

Author:Mary Hollis Huddleston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harper Muse
Published: 2021-12-07T00:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

January arrived. I survived the holidays on take-out Chinese food, Blue Bell ice cream, self-pity, and the promise of a sunny beach. By the time the site visit to Mexico for Brody and Harriet’s wedding arrived, I was ready for a little “vacation,” even if it was really a work trip to facilitate my ex-boyfriend’s nuptials. It wasn’t Dallas. I’d take it.

Cedric, Mary Ellen, and I were checking out the resort four months before the event took place. This was protocol for every destination wedding Cedric planned; he believed you had to physically lay eyes on anything you selected for a client. I was, presumably, brought on this trip because they needed someone to haul suitcases and apply sunscreen in hard-to-reach places. Plus, I’d found the venue, and as a newly minted junior planner, my presence was justifiable to all the jealous Trusties and assistants.

But first we had to get there. Why we didn’t have a direct flight to Mexico from Texas was beyond me, but I shut my mouth and packed my passport. We made it to the Los Angeles airport, which I’d refer to as the Armpit of America from then on, and it was a complete madhouse. At LAX no matter how early your flight got in, there was never enough time to get to your connection, which was always in another terminal. So, of course, we were running late.

Cedric was freaking out about missing the plane, so he abandoned Mary Ellen and me in the middle of the terminal with all six carry-ons. We’d each taken a roll-aboard and a garment bag of essentials in case our luggage didn’t make it. Cedric, of course, refused to relinquish custody of his precious designer clothes to the airline—though it was fine to abandon them to our mercy. He ditched us with the luggage plus eight shopping bags he’d purchased duty-free and fled to the gate with the excuse he was off to hold the plane. What a saint.

LAX was full of rude people in a hurry. Left alone to manage the largest bags, and struggling up a steep set of stairs, I heard a loud scream and turned around to find Mary Ellen flat on her back, spread-eagle, sliding down the stairs completely tangled in Louis Vuitton luggage.

Not one person stopped to help or even look at her, which was odd given she was yelping like a sad puppy. I couldn’t believe my eyes. She became airport roadkill at the bottom of the stairs as the masses continued to step over her as though she didn’t exist. Like I said, Armpit of America.

In the midst of her wailing in pain (visibly, she only had a scratch on her knee), I did my best to peel her off the stairs, wipe Lord knows what off her back, and help her limp to our gate. With me carrying five out of six bags, naturally.

I tried to hurry Mary Ellen along, but she refused to put pressure on her leg and clung to her knee like she would never walk again.

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