Read Online February Fever by Jess Lourey - Free Book Online

clean my room,” she said by way of explanation.
    The porter shook his head vigorously. “I’m sorry, Ms. Wrenshall, but that’s not true. The porters make your bed in the morning and turn it down at night. I explained to you that any maintenance beyond that is your responsibility. I’m afraid I’ve been called on to help in the dining car besides taking over another sleeping car, so we’re tremendously understaffed at the moment.”
    I’d gone from thinking the guy was a jerk for how he’d treated me when I boarded to feeling sorry for him.
    â€œHow messy can your room get?” I asked her lightly. “My refrigerator is bigger than these cabins.” I leaned forward to peek into hers, but she backed into it like a hermit crab and tugged the door tight around her so I couldn’t see in.
    â€œSorry,” she said. “I’d let you look in, but you can’t trust anyone these days.”
    It was an odd statement, and even more peculiar was her expression as she said it—as if she was scared.
    I felt a familiar sensation, a hot weight dropping into my stomach, and it meant only one thing: something was not quite right with Ms. Wrenshall.

Nine
    Once the train started moving, at the porter’s advice, Mrs. Berns and I settled into our chairs and read the materials describing the amenities available to us on our journey. Suddenly shy, I reached over and grabbed my purse.
    â€œI got you a present. You know, to thank you for setting all this up.” Probably she’d lost any rights to it by tricking me onto a Valentine’s train, but I was choosing to focus on the positive.
    Mrs. Berns raised her bushy eyebrows. “Now you’re cooking with Crisco. What is it?”
    She leaned forward and we bumped foreheads. “Oof,” we said in unison.
    I did not let the collision or the small space deter me. I continued my search, digging around until I came up with the two white boxes. I yanked them out and handed her one. “Ta-da!”
    She grabbed for the box like a child, opened it, and dumped out the contents. It fell into her lap with a tiny thud. “What the helicopter?”
    â€œIt’s a reading light designed to look like an eighties boom box! So if one of us wants to read and the other wants to sleep, we can.” I was initially too pleased with myself to note her expression. I’d been given the reading lights free at a library conference and been looking for the perfect place to use them. What better time? We could have the nerdiest slumber party in history. “See? You open this speaker, and the light comes on. You open this one, and there’s a clamp so you can attach it to your chair or bed. You snap them shut, and voil à ! You’re back to a tiny boom box.”
    I returned my attention to her face too slowly to anticipate the arm pinch.
    â€œRead? This is the Valentine’s train.” She tossed the gift back into my lap. “Unless you meant to say ‘boob box,’ I’ve got no use for those.”
    â€œI’ll just stick it in your purse, then,” I said, refusing to let my mood sour. “You never know when you might need it.” After tucking the box into her bag, I returned to the pamphlet describing the train’s amenities and soon discovered that because we were bunking in a sleeper car, all of our meals had been included in the cost of the trip.
    My eyes widened. The words came out as a whisper. “We get to eat while we’re in motion?”
    Mrs. Berns rolled her eyes, an action she quickly abandoned as I discovered increasingly regular “train treasures.” My loudest moment of train travel excitement came when I discovered our itsy bitsy bathroom had a tiny shower and free, honey-scented soap. Mrs. Berns was on her third bottle of champagne by then. In all fairness, the bottles were a tenth the size of a regular one, and the woman could drink an Irishman