Pitch Perfect (2 page)

1

Destination Unknown

“O
H NO, NOT NOW!” MIA SCOWLED AT THE RED
check-engine light and gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Come on, I filled you with premium gas, you old clunker. What more do you want from me?” she grumbled, but when the light flickered and then went out she managed a slight smile. “That’s more like it.” She patted the battered dashboard, making the miniature hula dancer swing her ample hips. “Okay, I take the old-clunker part back,” Mia added in a soothing tone and then settled back against the worn seat.

Having been an only child raised by a long string of disinterested au pairs, Mia Monroe was no stranger to talking to herself or to inanimate objects. Since she had often been left alone to entertain herself, Mia’s possessions became treasured friends and admittedly were probably one of the reasons that as an adult she had become a shopaholic. “Dad just doesn’t understand.” She sighed and glanced over at her shiny black Prada purse, which appeared ridiculously out of place perched on the worn cloth seat that must have been red at one time but had faded to a dusty rose. The lack of credit cards inside of her matching wallet made her shiver, even though the battered Camry’s air conditioner had failed her just outside of Chicago. Soon she might actually break a sweat. “Shopping is my therapy,” she explained with a defensive pout, but the words sounded a bit hollow and she frowned. “Nothing wrong with that, right?” she added without as much conviction.

Mia flipped her long platinum blond hair over her shoulder only to have the warm wind from the open window blow it right back across her face, momentarily blocking her view of the road. She swerved into the right lane, drawing the deep, angry honk of a massive truck.

“Sorry!” Mia winced as she jerked the car back into her own lane. The hula dancer’s hips wiggled like crazy and Mia giggled in spite of her dire circumstances. She decided that when she purchased a new car the happy hula chickie was coming with her. Oh and she
would
purchase a brand-new car with her very own hard-earned money. “And I’ll pull up that circular drive and park it right at my father’s front door!” she announced to the hula dancer, who bobbed her head as if in disagreement. “Oh, don’t go shaking that head of yours. I will do it if it’s the last thing I ever do!” Of course Mia didn’t have anything ironed out, like where she would live, or a really super job lined up or anything of that nature.
Minor details,
she thought with a lift of one shoulder, but then she frowned when she recalled her last conversation with her dad. “You’ll be back by the end of the summer,” Mia mocked in her father’s deep tone of voice.
Labor Day,
he had added.
Something you’ve never had to do.

“Ha!” Mia said and smacked the steering wheel hard enough to make her hand smart. “I have . . . skills! And just who does he think is going to plan his lavish parties at his house? Huh? Entertain his clients?” She flipped one hand in the air and swerved again. “And just who will find impossible-to-get Cubs and Bulls tickets to seal the deal?” She gave her hair another toss, only to have it fly back across her face. She gave it an impatient swipe, but several strands clung to her lip gloss. “I was his personal assistant and did it for free!” she grumbled. “He’ll never be able to replace me. I have connections all over Chicago.” She glanced at the hula dancer. “So what if I ran up a few credit cards? Bought a few things here and there and, well . . . everywhere? I’m helping the economy, right? It’s my civic duty or whatever that’s called.” She waved her French-tipped fingers back and forth, and the sunshine glinted off her diamond tennis bracelet.

When the hula dancer stared back at her with accusing brown eyes, Mia sighed. “O-kaaaay, so I abused the credit cards a tiny bit. Traveled a little too much in the company jet.” She lifted one slim shoulder. “But that jab about me never having a real job was uncalled for. And my fine-arts degree is not worthless! I worked hard for my father. He just didn’t appreciate my efforts.” She pressed her lips together in an effort not to cry. “I should have been on the official payroll!” she sputtered, but it wasn’t that tired old argument about her working that had driven Mia away from her home and out into the cold, cruel world without credit cards or her baby blue Mercedes coupe. It was overhearing her father negotiating a ruthless business deal that had turned her blood cold. When Mia called him out on the hostile takeover of Hanover Candy, a family-owned, Chicago-based company, she had been furious. She had grown up with and gone to school with Hailey Hanover and couldn’t imagine that her father would take advantage of tough times for the locally owned company, which made various flavors of hard candy sticks that Mia often got to sample before the general public. She had suggested and was responsible for tasty flavors like cotton candy and cherry cheesecake. How could he go after her friends?

When her father had calmly explained that deals like these paid for Mia’s lavish lifestyle, she hotly declared that she no longer wanted his money and would fend for herself from this day forward!

There was only one problem. She didn’t exactly have a plan in place when she stuffed her Louis Vuitton suitcase full of random clothes and stormed out of her father’s estate. “Oh well, this will be an adventure!” she declared with much more moxie than she was actually feeling, and then suddenly felt a little light-headed. “Low blood sugar,” she mumbled, refusing to believe it was nerves. She decided to find a nice restaurant to eat a little lunch, perhaps a Cobb salad, or then again a panini would do nicely.

“Okay,” Mia said firmly but then sighed. So here she was in . . . Where was she again? Oh yeah, in
Kentucky
, driving down the interstate in an old Toyota Camry that she had bought off of Manny Perez, their gardener. When Mia had offered to purchase Manny’s car, he had rattled off something in Spanish about gas and oil while shaking his head and making hand gestures, little of which Mia had understood. But Mia’s polite insistence and a cool thousand bucks had sealed the deal. One of the many things she had learned from her father was that money talks, and when all else fails, use leverage. So she had flashed cash and a pretty-please smile at Manny and he had handed over the battered vehicle without further protest.

When Mia’s stomach grumbled in grumpy protest, she looked at the passing signs for something to capture the interest of her taste buds. She wasn’t very familiar with fast food, but Cracker Barrel sounded interesting. Mia had seen plenty of signs for the rustic restaurants along her aimless journey, and there was the added enticement of shopping right there in the establishment. “Someone sure was thinking!” she said and was about to pull off at the next exit when she noticed a billboard advertising the Cricket Creek Cougars baseball stadium located five miles down the road.

“Hmm . . . why does that sound familiar?” Mia tapped her cheek but then suddenly remembered that her father had attended opening day last summer. She also thought he might have some other business connection in Cricket Creek, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She didn’t always pay close attention when her father rambled on about his business dealings, but she knew that he had also traveled to Cricket Creek quite a few times over the past few months. She did recall that he had mentioned that the head chef from Chicago Blue Bistro had moved there to run a restaurant and that the food was excellent.

“Ah . . . ha!” Mia smiled when she spotted a billboard for Wine and Diner. “I do believe that was the very cute and clever name.” She nodded slowly and then mustered up another smile. “Well, Wine and Diner, here I come!” When her stomach rumbled in anticipation she pressed on the gas pedal, but her smile faded when the car gave a funny little lurch and the check-engine light flickered and then came back on. “Oh no you don’t!” she pleaded, but this time the red light stubbornly remained lit. Luckily, the Cricket Creek exit was only a mile down the road.

Mia eased her chunky clog off the gas pedal and gingerly steered off the exit. She spotted a sign pointing to several restaurants and turned left toward town. “How quaint!” she said as the Camry chugged down Main Street. Colorful mid-May flowers spilled over the tops of large terra-cotta planters lining the sidewalk. An old-fashioned bakery named Grammar’s caught her eye, along with several antique shops. When she spotted a vintage clothing store with a sale rack out front, her shopping addiction kicked into high gear, but she lifted her chin in steely determination and kept on driving.

When Mia stopped for a red light, she watched people meander down the sidewalk and wander in and out of the shops. The town had a warm, welcoming feel to it and the chatter of shoppers sounded cheerful. Mia was used to the hustle and bustle of Chicago, and while she loved the energy of a big city, this slower pace had an instant calming effect on her frazzled nerves. She inhaled deeply and the sweet scent of spring filled her head, making her sigh with pleasure.

Laughter brought Mia’s attention to her open window and she smiled softly when she spotted children playing in the city park. Young mothers watched over the frolic and fun, bringing a pang of sadness to Mia’s chest. When her father’s first business had failed, Mia’s mother left Mitch Monroe for a man with more wealth. Heartbroken, he had sued for full custody of Mia and had won, but his obsession with financial success kept him from spending much time with his two-year-old daughter, and thus had begun Mia’s long string of au pairs. But just when she would become emotionally bonded to her caregiver, the au pair would move on, leaving Mia feeling sad and making it much safer to find happiness with material things rather than people.

As an adult and no stranger to therapy, Mia realized that her father’s intense drive to succeed was a direct result of his wife’s desertion, but that didn’t change the fact that Mia had been a lonely little girl longing for her father’s attention and her mother’s acceptance.

Oh, Mia had visited her mother but had always felt like an outsider in her mother’s new life. Over the years her visits had become few and far between, and sadly she believed that her mother had been mostly relieved.

A honking horn startled Mia out of her musing. “Oh, just hush!” she grumbled as she eased the car forward, but her mood lightened when she spotted Wine and Diner on the corner. The brick building with the cute red awning looked inviting, but it was the aroma of grilled food wafting through her open window that had her hurrying to locate a spot in the parking lot. “Well!” Mia had to circle twice before sliding into a vacant space, an indication that Wine and Diner was a popular place to eat. “Finally!”

After she turned the key, the engine coughed and sputtered as if in distress or perhaps relief. “Oh, please start when I get finished eating,” Mia pleaded and gave the dash a quick pat. The door opened with a tired-sounding squeak and she gently closed it before hurrying toward the entrance of the restaurant.

When Mia entered Wine and Diner she wasn’t surprised to find a line of patrons waiting to be seated. Her mouth watered in anticipation of a good hot meal when the aroma of food wafted her way, and she barely suppressed a sigh. Mia looked at the name tag on the hostess’s black shirt. “Hello, Bella. How long of a wait?” she asked with a big smile but with a hint that she was in a hurry and might leave, even though it was far from the truth. Mia had learned from her father to always use a name and to try to remember it.

Bella nibbled on her bottom lip and peered down at her chart. “Mmm, about fifteen or twenty minutes?”

“Oh.” Mia couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her tone but then tried another tactic. “Wow, has anyone ever told you that you look like Eva Longoria?” It was true. She did. “Except, you know, younger.”

“Actually, I get that a lot. So would you like to wait?” Bella politely persisted.

“Well, I’m just passing through and in a bit of a rush,” Mia replied slowly but then leaned forward and shook her head. Somehow this homey atmosphere made her feel guilty for fibbing. “Actually, that’s not true. It just smells divine and I’m famished.”

“I totally understand. And trust me, you won’t be disappointed.” Bella glanced over her shoulder and then back at Mia. “Well, would you mind sitting at the back counter? There’s a vacant stool there.”

Mia looked at the open seat between a big, burly dude in overalls who sported a Santa-like beard and a younger guy in jeans and a baseball cap. While they appeared friendly enough, Mia had issues about sharing her personal space. She swallowed hard and was about to tell Bella that she would wait, but then she spotted a waitress carrying a tray laden with delicious-looking comfort food and nodded. “A stool at the counter would be perfect. Thank you so much.”

“Super.” Bella raised one dark eyebrow just slightly, making Mia wonder if the hostess knew her dilemma. “You may seat yourself. Enjoy your lunch,” she added with a smile.

“Thank you!” Mia made her way to the rear of the dining room. She passed a lovely array of desserts beneath a revolving glass display counter but told herself not to indulge and kept on moving. Oh, but then her eyes were drawn to a room to the right that had a script sign that read
WINE AND DIVINE
. It was a gift shop!

Mia’s footsteps slowed to a near stop when she spotted a rack of colorful woven scarves that looked baby soft, and her fingers twitched with the need to touch. She tried to avert her gaze, but when sunlight from the window glinted off a tray of jewelry, she was tugged that way as if pulled by a magnet. She actually rounded a table and craned her neck to see a shelf of lovely candles that she was sure smelled divine like the sign promised, but her stomach rumbled in protest. Her need for food was making her light-headed and was the only thing that kept her feet walking toward the round stool. Well,
that
and the little voice in the back of her head that reminded Mia that she was without credit cards and had very little cash left. She did still have her father’s gas card tucked in her wallet, so at least putting fuel in the temperamental Toyota wasn’t going to be a problem. Mia cringed as she thought that her next meal might have to be a shriveled-up hot dog twirling on one of those greasy silver grids in a convenience store so unlike the delicious Chicago-style dogs sold from street vendors.