Della Street thought she was having a bad day.
First of all, it was the last day of her vacation, and she felt less rested than when it had begun. She had had such high hopes for this week of respite: for months, she had envisioned herself roaming the fields and forests which surrounded her childhood home in the town of Treeland in Northern California. Instead, much to her chagrin, it had rained for most of her vacation. Therefore, she had been marooned indoors with her parents, grandparents, aunts, cousins, and uncles for most of the week. She usually enjoyed their company, but this time, they had all seemed to think it was necessary to remind her every few hours that old maidenhood was fast approaching and that it was time she found a nice young man and settled down. They had even invited a few bachelors to dinner. They were kind, nice men, but Della found that not one of them was as handsome, as intelligent, or as thoughtful as Perry.
The whole situation caused Della to have a short temper. First of all, she was embarrassed by her family's not-so-subtle matchmaking. And second of all, it made her even more frustrated with herself. How could she, a rational woman, have let herself get so attached to a man who had never given any clear indication that he reciprocated her secret feelings? Here she was, pining, day in and day out, over a man who seemed more interested in chasing murder suspects than her.
This particular morning, a series of small misfortunes made her mood even more sour. She had slept late, which caused her to say farewell to her family and dash out of the house like a whirlwind. This circumstance had precluded her from having breakfast, and now she stood at the bus station with a rumbling stomach, faced with the prospect of an hours-long trip with only a packet of dry biscuits to sustain her.
Taking a deep breath, she got in line with the other passengers and handed the bus driver her ticket – and when he had accepted it and she was about to step foot into the bus – the lock on her suitcase failed, and in an instant, her blouses and dresses lay strewn about on the sidewalk.
"You'd better repack those, ma'am," the bus driver blandly stated before turning to the next passenger to accept his ticket.
Flushed with embarrassment and impatience, Della hurriedly gathered her garments and stepped a few feet away from the bus, so as to not be underfoot for the other passengers who were trying to board. Kneeling on the cement, she tried to force the silks and cottons back into the suitcase, and found that it would not shut. She had to fold each and every one, and carefully arrange them, and only then did the faulty lock click closed. Relieved, she stood up, ready to board, and saw the bus accelerate and take off!
"No, wait!" she cried out, and tried to pursue it without any success. Within a few seconds, it turned a corner and was on its way to Los Angeles – without her.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," one of the employees standing by said. "You'll have to purchase another ticket."
"But I already paid for one, and even gave it to the bus driver!"
"It does not matter," the employee said. "Once your ticket is checked, it is void for any other bus trips. I believe there is one more bus going to Los Angeles today. If you hurry, you may be able to get a ticket for it. And please excuse me. According to protocol, I must turn in this list of passengers who checked bus tickets for the last trip to my manager."
Miss Street swallowed her groan of frustration and dutifully went to the ticket counter where she bought the last ticket for the final bus trip to Los Angeles that day. Being the last ticket, it was unsurprisingly for the worst seat. Knowing that she would have to wait another two hours before that bus would depart, Della Street found a solitary bench, sat down on it, and muttered rebelliously under her breath,
"Oh God, this is so unfair!"
This chapter is a little slow, but it sets the stage! A little more angst (and Perry) coming in the next chapter!
