Standing next to the wall of glass, Peyton pulls out her phone to see if a change in location has improved her chances for getting a signal. It hasn’t. The result is the same — no service. During her trek down, she’d mulled over the few snippets of conversation from the phone call with her sister. The words that Peyton dwelled on, and continues to dwell on, are when Paige said “get out.” Did she mean out of the building? Out of the condo? Or is it something more sinister, like get out of the city? Peyton wonders about that for a moment. Paige works for the FBI and usually knows the scoop on what’s going on. Could the power be out for an extended period of time?
Peyton grabs her bag and the umbrellas and drifts over to one of the sitting areas positioned around the lobby. She kicks off her shoes and gently massages her arches, keeping her hands well away from the nasty blisters that have bubbled up on both heels. She brushes her dark hair out of her eyes and scans the lobby. Usually bustling with people, the lobby now feels like a tomb. The two guards who usually man the large circular desk in the center of the room are either attending to some crisis or they’ve abandoned their post. The ground-floor space inside the building was carved up to attract high-end retail, but most spaces remain vacant and have been that way since Peyton took the job at Brown, Wright, Zuker, Tomlinson & Qualls five years ago. The only successful venture is the small sundry store and newsstand that occupies the northeastern corner of the building.
“Shoot,” Peyton mumbles, thinking about the cramped store and its small selection of food items. That’s one thing she hasn’t thought about. And if Paige’s intent is for them to get out of the city, it’s going to be a major problem because the pantry back at the condo is about as bare as the grocery store shelves before a blizzard.
Peyton digs through her overstuffed bag, pulls out her purse, and unzips it to retrieve her wallet. Knowing the probabilities are low for her having more than twenty dollars cash, she opens her wallet to check. Yep, a twenty-dollar bill is it. She has half a dozen credit cards, but they’re just worthless pieces of plastic at the moment. Unless…
Peyton stands, throws her bag over her shoulder, and looks down at her shoes then at the blisters on her heels. “Screw it,” she mutters. She leans over, crams the umbrellas and shoes under the chair, and pads across the lobby and down the corridor to the small store. She sticks her head through the door. “Ranjeet?”
“Yes?” a voice calls from the rear of the store. A moment later, Ranjeet appears. “Peyton. Come in.” At five-six, Ranjeet might weigh 110 pounds if he stood in the rain for an hour before stepping on the scales. Immigrants from India, he and his family took over the lease and purchased the contents of the store about five years ago. He and Peyton became fast friends after only her second visit.
“Are you open?” Peyton asks, stepping inside.
“For cash customers, always open.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about, Ranjeet,” Peyton says, crossing her fingers. “I only have twenty bucks cash and I was wondering if you would be willing to take an imprint of my credit card and run it through the system when the power is restored.”
Ranjeet thinks it over for a moment. “For you, Peyton, of course.” He leads her over to the front counter and hands her a small shopping basket. “You think storms cause power outage?”
“Maybe. I just hope that it comes back on soon.” Peyton feels a little guilty, but in reality she doesn’t know any more about the situation than Ranjeet does, other than that very ambiguous phone call from Paige. She heads down the aisle with her basket.
Ranjeet doesn’t stock a lot of food items, but he does have a can or two of various soups, some Spam and Vienna sausages, and a few tins of canned pasta that Peyton hasn’t eaten since she was about six years old. Nevertheless, they go in the basket along with the other items. Peyton wanders up and down the aisles. Most of Ranjeet’s inventory consists of grab-and-go items for the building’s condo owners. She finds a small section of nutritional supplement items and loads up on granola bars and protein power bars. The rest of the store’s inventory is mostly candy, chips, gum, and a rack full of tabloid magazines. Peyton walks to the front and places her basket on the counter.
“No water?” Ranjeet asks. “That is usually first thing to go.”
“Damn. I didn’t even think about that.” That’s when the magnitude of the situation hits her. There’s not going to be any water, or air-conditioning, or lighting, or any way to use the bathroom for the foreseeable future, if she’s interpreting Paige’s few words correctly. “Do you have a couple of cases of the small bottles of water?”
“I can spare one, Peyton. I need water for my family, also.” Ranjeet turns and grabs a case of water from behind the counter.
“Thank you, Ranjeet. You’re a lifesaver.”
Ranjeet smiles. He pulls out his calculator and tallies up the items and piles them into Peyton’s bag. She passes him her card and he uses a pencil to shade the card’s information on a slip of paper.
“You can have my twenty if you want,” Peyton offers.
“No, you keep, Peyton. Credit card fine.”
Peyton grabs the case of water and balances her bag on top then pauses before picking it up. “Ranjeet, how much water are you saving for your family?”
“Two cases.”
Peyton knows there are at least six people in Ranjeet’s household and maybe more. “You’re going to need a lot more than that.”
Ranjeet looks at her with a bewildered expression on his face. “Why?”
“The power may be off for quite a while.”
“How long, Peyton?”
“I don’t know. But you need to hang on to as much water as you can.”
“How much?”
“Let me put it to you this way, Ranjeet — I wouldn’t let another bottle of water leave the store.”
“Oh my. Okay. Okay. Thank you, Peyton. You be safe.”
Peyton leans across the counter and gives Ranjeet a hug. “I will. Same to you and your family.” Peyton grabs her items and exits the store.
CHAPTER 19
Now aboard the jet as it taxis toward the runway, Paige makes one more attempt to call her sister, but, as expected, the call won’t go through. She types out a quick e-mail to Peyton outlining what she knows about the power situation and hits send. She’s hoping that Peyton’s phone will eventually ping an active cell tower and the e-mail will automatically download. Options for contacting her sister exhausted, Paige scrolls to her favorites menu, touches her mother’s picture, and puts the phone to her ear.
Her mother, Frances, answers on the second ring. “Paige, what in the world is going on? I’ve tried to call your sister several times after I found out Chicago was without power, but nothing happens.”