I knew I wanted her to be happy, to see Esha again. To get her a second chance. And obviously I wanted to see Arthur. I was missing him terribly, which sort of amazed me. It had only been a day, but it felt so much longer.

However, Ayisha sending him random photos of food was probably not going to cut it. I had to be bolder. I had to do this in person so there were no mistakes.

With that in mind, I slipped away from the party and into the kitchen amid the still-swirling—though starting to wind down somewhat—chaos of the party prep.

I located Ayisha in the back, swapping out platters.

“Hey. Can you drive me to Norman?” I asked, sans preamble.

She was impressively unfazed. “When?”

“Now?”

“See,” she said, continuing to add new toasted turkey turnovers with apricots and almonds to her platter, “I know you know there’s a blizzard going on because you have eyes and everyone’s talking about it, so I also know you don’t really mean now.”

“I kinda mean now?”

She slowly turned to face me. “Okay, one: that’s crazy. And two: Mamma drove so I think you already know the answer she’d give. But feel free to ask her.”

We both knew I wouldn’t.

I sighed in frustration. “I have to get to Arthur and Esha before they leave the state and maybe the country, and that can only happen if I go to them now.”

“I feel like there are other, less potentially lethal options.”

“Like texting Arthur?” I was hoping maybe for some sort of neutral judgment on her part to tell me that breaking my promise to Arthur was permissible.

“Actually, no. I think his phone is off.”

My jaw went sideways. “How often are you two texting?”

“Down, girl. I wanted to see if he’d gotten your food pic so you’d stop bugging me.”

“Oh. And?”

“Calls go straight to voicemail and my follow-up text bounced.”

“Do you think he blocked you?”

She shot me a look. “No one blocks me. I think there’s a freaking blizzard going on outside and it’s affecting reception.”

“Even more reason I have to go to them.”

“Totally the opposite, but you seem determined. Can you get one of your parents to drive you?”

“Normally, yes. But I think they’re kinda, um . . . reconciling.”

She held up a hand. “Go no further.”

I chewed on my lower lip. “Mrs. Buzzard offered me the keys to her car yesterday.”

“Do you really want to drive solo in these conditions?”

“No.”

“First sensible thing you’ve said since you walked in here. What you need is someone with a car who’ll drive you to Norman.”

A raspy man’s voice said, “Hey there!”