Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(20)

“They haven’t plowed the neighborhood,” I said, turning onto the street. “I wonder if the trucks are on the highway.”

“Let’s hope so.”

My knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and I could hardly see five feet in front of us. When we reached the highway, I could see some tracks, but no other headlights or taillights. If the trucks had been here before, whatever they’d plowed or salted was buried now. “Fuck,” I said, leaning forward and trying my hardest to stay on the road. It was a near total whiteout. “This is worse than I thought it would be.”

“Me too.”

I started sweating beneath my clothes. If it didn’t let up, no way would we make it all the way back to Traverse City tonight. But I didn’t want to give up yet. I switched on the radio. “Maybe this is the worst of it. Let’s listen for a weather report.”

But the forecast was dire—in fact, the advice for drivers was to get off the road and find shelter.

“Shit.” Ellie was nervous too, her legs bouncing up and down, her thumbnail in her mouth. “Do you think we should do what they say? Get off the road and wait it out?”

“I’m not sure where we’d go,” I said grimly, wiping my forehead. “Fuck, I’m not even sure where we are exactly.” My GPS signal was weak, and I couldn’t see road signs until we were right beneath them—and even then, it was tough. “We might not make it home tonight.”

“Let’s just get off the road.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to keep going?”

“Can you see?”

“To be honest, no.”

“Then get off the road.”

I managed to spot the next exit at the last second and swerved to take it, the SUV skidding a little. Ellie gasped and grabbed the dash.

“Sorry,” I said.

“It’s fine. Just—just find somewhere to pull over so we can figure out where we are and what to do.”

I kept the SUV crawling forward, my jaw clenched.

“I see a neon sign!” Ellie pointed at the passenger window. “I think it might be a gas station. Up there on the right.”

I couldn’t even see the road to turn right on, but I spotted the sign Ellie had seen and followed it like the North Star, praying another car wouldn’t come out of nowhere and hit us.

“The lights are on inside,” Ellie said with relief. “I think it’s still open.”

I pulled into the station’s service lot and put the car in park. “I’ll go in and ask what’s around here.”

“Okay,” she said. “If I can get service, I’m going to try to call Winnie and let her know we might not be back in the morning.”

I jumped out and hurried into the store. The old guy at the register was watching the news on a television behind the counter. On the screen I saw cars buried in snow, drifts that reached the tops of front doors, and radar showing that the storm was still building in intensity with no signs of letting up, from the Dakotas across the Great Lakes.

“Where’s that footage from?” I asked.

“Minnesota.” The guy scratched his grizzled gray beard. “They’ve gotten fifteen inches so far, and it ain’t stopping. That’s what’s coming our way.”

“I thought we were only supposed to get ten inches or so.”

The guy cackled. “When have those idiots ever been right about anything? You can’t know what Mother Nature’s gonna do before she does it. She’s a woman!”

I nodded grimly, eyeing the snowfall predictions that showed our edge of the state with possible lake effect snow reaching twenty-four inches over the next couple days. “Right.”

“You’re not on the road in this, are you?”

“I was.”

He shook his head. “Best take shelter while you can, and maybe stock up on some groceries. I’m closing here soon. I just live over there”—he gestured toward the store windows—“but the walk’s only gonna get worse.”

“Is there a hotel or anything nearby?”

“There’s a motel just up the way, but it’s usually full up this time of year with cross-country skiers.” He shrugged. “Worth a try, though.”

“Okay.” I glanced out the door at the headlights of my SUV. “You gonna be open a few more minutes?”

“Sure. Name’s Milton, by the way.”

I headed for the door. “Thanks, Milton. I’ll be right back.”

It took some effort to push the glass door open in the gusting wind. When I was back behind the wheel, I looked at Ellie. “Did you talk to Winnie?”

“I left her a message.”

“What did you say?”

“That it’s possible we might not be home tonight and to ask Desmond to cover my eleven o’clock tasting tomorrow just in case.”

“We might not even be able to open tomorrow. I saw the news. It’s bad.”

“How bad?”

“Like two feet of snow coming our way bad.”

“Shit! What are we going to do tonight?”

I exhaled. “There’s a motel up the road, but the guy said it’s usually full this time of year.”

“Should we try it anyway?”