enough to be believable. And, yep. There was no question about the fact that the signature looked authentic even to me. There were two possible explanations. Late-developing somnambulism or incredible forgery.
Needless to say, everything about the event screamed fishy, fishy, fishy. Because I didn’t really put any stock in the late-developing somnambulism theory. But was that going to stop me? Probably not. A woman stupid enough to marry a man like my soon-to-be ex is stupid enough to fly first class into the great unknown.
I looked at my bags, still standing where I’d left them like dutiful sentries, and wondered if I had the right clothes for late September in England. Even in the midst of bizarre and unexplainable events, I never lose sight of priorities.
The plan crystallized. I would take both bags. If it all turned out to be a gift from fate, my reward for surviving marriage to Cole, then my daughter could send the rest of my things in between semesters. With sufficient bribery, of course.
After clearing customs, which made me curse myself for bringing two large bags, I looked around for a sign with my name. Standing in a row of guys with handprinted cardboard signs was an ancient fellow grinning ear to ear, white hair going every which way. The sign said ‘Hayworth’.
I walked toward him and, when I was close enough to be heard, said, “That’s me.”
“Oh, yes, I know,” he said. “I’m Eckert. Right this way.” He took control of both bags. The fact that they were each four-wheeled made that possible.
“I can get those,” I said.
“Wouldn’t hear of it, Madam. I will see you to your automobile and get your luggage squared away.”
I wasn’t crazy about being called ‘madam’, since I was on the way to shedding that title for good, but he meant well. So I refocused on the airport’s sights, sounds, and the less desirable aspects of overseas travel.
We stepped outside into crisp, Fall air.
“Right over here,” he said, pointing to a very shiny red car waiting at the curb right in front of us.
“How did you get a parking place like this?” I asked. “I thought this kind of thing only happens in the movies.”
He chuckled. “The movies,” he repeated. “Think of yourself as a very important person. More important than movies.”
“Well, that might take some doing.” The man reached into the car and retrieved a clipboard from the passenger seat, which was on the wrong side of the car from my perspective. “This is a gorgeous car. Are you sure this is the rental they got for me?”
He chuckled again as he handed me the clipboard and a pen. “This is not a rental. It’s yours. Just sign right there.”
“What do you mean, mine? You mean…?”
I took the clipboard and looked at the first few lines. There was my name. Rita Hayworth. Owner of a brand-new Alfa Romeo Stelvio Quadrifogio purchased for… That’s when I almost dropped the clipboard onto the sidewalk. Somebody had just bought me a car worth £85,700.
“This can’t be right, um, Eckert.”
Pointing at the signature line, he said, “Right there. Everything’s in order, Madam. Saw to it myself.” He looked at the vehicle lovingly. “A very fine auto this is. Will hug the curves between here and Hallow Hill like a lover.”
Unsure that I felt comfortable with the reference, I opted for, “No question that it’s a very fine auto. I’m just trying to process that it’s intended for me. This car costs more than I make in a year.”
“It’s yours. I’ve programmed the GPS to take you right to the shop in Hallow Hill. If you decide to stop for the night, don’t worry about the car. It’s burglar proof.”
After turning that over in my mind, I said, “I don’t think there’s any such thing, Eckert.”
He laughed as he took his copy of the paperwork and put my copies in a beautiful leather-bound satchel that also contained the owner’s manual. “Well, if you won’t be needing anything else, I’ll put these bags in the rear and leave you to get to know your new car.”
“Three things. Let me fish a jacket and scarf out of the bag before you do that. And, could you make sure I know how to turn on the GPS before you go? And how far is Hallow Hill?”
“How far? Or how long to get there?”
I rethought what I really wanted to know. “How long?”
“A little less than five hours. GPS audio is on and it’s what they call