Christmas Travel Advisory

By Nicki Bennett

Workaholic investment banker Timothy Wyatt is determined to spend the first Christmas since his divorce with his four-year-old daughter, Megan. Fate—in the form of the largest winter storm system in a decade—seems determined to thwart him. When his flight from Dallas to Chicago is canceled, along with every other flight for at least the next two days, Tim is willing to try any alternative means of transportation to keep from disappointing his daughter yet again.

Luckily for Tim, he’s befriended by Zach Whelan, another stranded traveler. Zach is a travel agent, and since he was only planning a solo vacation in Mexico over the holidays, he makes it his mission to get Tim to his daughter in time for Christmas instead. They have three days—how hard can it be?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
• Release date: Nov 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781641083386

Nicki Bennett

Growing up in Chicago, Nicki Bennett spent every Saturday at the central library, losing herself in the world of books. A voracious reader, she eventually found it difficult to find enough of the kind of stories she liked to read and decided to start writing them herself. Facebook: www.facebook.com/100011754789784

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Table of Contents

Blurb

Dedication

Christmas Travel Advisory

Author’s Note

Also by Nicki Bennett

About Nicki Bennett

By Nicki Bennett

Visit Dreamspinner Press

Copyright

Christmas Travel Advisory

by Nicki Bennett

Workaholic investment banker Timothy Wyatt is determined to spend the first Christmas since his divorce with his four-year-old daughter, Megan. Fate—in the form of the largest winter storm system in a decade—seems determined to thwart him. When his flight from Dallas to Chicago is canceled, along with every other flight for at least the next two days, Tim is willing to try any alternative means of transportation to keep from disappointing his daughter yet again.

Luckily for Tim, he’s befriended by Zach Whelan, another stranded traveler. Zach is a travel agent, and since he was only planning a solo vacation in Mexico over the holidays, he makes it his mission to get Tim to his daughter in time for Christmas instead. They have three days—how hard can it be?

For Ariel, who keeps me writing.

PASSENGERS ON American flight 136 to Chicago…. The announcement crackled over the airport PA system.

Tim braced himself for another delay. He’d been sitting in the Admiral’s Club lounge since six thirty that morning, watching CNN’s anchors tracking the increasingly severe winter storm engulfing the heart of the country from Canada to Mexico. He’d booked one of the earliest flights out of DFW, but this would make the fifth time his departure had been pushed back. At this rate he’d be fighting rush-hour traffic leaving O’Hare.

…we regret that this flight has been canceled. Please see the rebooking center for alternative travel options.

Oh hell no. He’d promised Megan they’d be together for Christmas. He wasn’t about to break that promise, winter storm be damned. He shoved his tablet into his briefcase and was already heading toward the customer service desk when the agent started paging him.

I’m Timothy Wyatt. Have you been able to book me on another flight?

The agent shook her head. I’m sorry, Mr. Wyatt, but it looks like O’Hare is shutting down all incoming flights due to the storm.

He was not going to break his promise to Megan, dammit. I have to get to Chicago for Christmas! he snapped.

You and everyone else on the flight, sir, she countered, though her expression was kind.

He ran a hand through his hair and forced himself to take a deep breath. It wasn’t the reservation agent’s fault that flights were being canceled. But his flying back and forth between New York and Dallas every week had to carry some perks. You’re right, I apologize. And I know it makes me sound like an entitled jerk, but I’m Executive Platinum. There must be some other way to get me there.

The agent clicked away at her keyboard. It hasn’t been announced yet, but DFW is putting a hold on all departures. I’m trying to book you on a Southwest flight this afternoon. There should be enough time to get you to Love Field…. She frowned at her screen and typed some more. It looks like Midway is shutting down too. The closest I could get you is Oklahoma City, and to be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if Love stopped flights before you could get there. I’m very sorry, Mr. Wyatt.

"What’s the next flight you can book me on?" He’d hoped to have some extra days before Christmas to spend with Megan, but as long as he made it there, he’d take whatever time he could get.

At this point…. She studied her screen again and sighed. Nothing’s going to be flying until this storm clears, and that doesn’t look to be anytime soon. Since you’re local, I’d suggest you head home. At least you won’t have to scramble for a hotel room or sleep on the floor like the connecting passengers. We’ll contact you as soon as we can get you on another flight.

Tim bit his lip at the shout that wanted to break free. Reminding himself that it wasn’t her fault, he thanked the agent and stepped aside. A line of similarly stranded travelers had already formed behind him.

He retrieved his suitcase and headed out of the lounge, not really caring where he was going. Nowhere, apparently. He should probably head home like the agent suggested and wait for the airline to call him, but something told him that if he did that, he’d never get to Chicago in time to keep his promise.

Eventually he ran out of walkway and found himself at an unassigned gate at the end of the concourse. The dead end felt like a perfect metaphor for his life. Spotting a restroom, he dragged himself inside, dropped his bags, and clenched his fists. Dammit! he muttered. Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit! His voice grew louder with each repetition, his last shout echoing off the tiled walls.

The creak of a stall door behind him startled him out of his funk, and he spun around as a man about his age with tousled blond hair and a tropical-print T-shirt emerged. Great, just what he needed—an audience for his meltdown. He raised his hands, palms out, in the universal symbol for I’m harmless. Sorry about the shouting.

Let me guess, the man said. Your Christmas vacation plans got scuttled by the storm. He stepped beside Tim to wash his hands before inserting them into the Dyson Airblade.

Tim grimaced over the noise of the dryer. Yeah. I was supposed to be flying to Chicago to spend Christmas with my daughter, but my flight was canceled and the agent at the service desk couldn’t even guess when flights might resume, much less whether I’d actually get to Chicago in time to keep my promise.

I hear you. My holiday vacation in Baja is looking pretty questionable too.

Tim knew he should commiserate, but the guy was probably heading for a week of sun and drinking and surfing. Not exactly the same level of critical as his own trip. Okay, that wasn’t fair; but somehow his being handsome and buff and exactly the type Tim could go for in other circumstances just made the whole situation suck even more. He’d picked up his bags, wondering how long he’d have to wait to get a cab home, when the stranger cleared his throat.

You know, flying isn’t the only way to travel, he said as he pulled out his phone. He tapped at it for a minute before looking back up at Tim. I’m sure we can find another way to get you to Chicago on time.

Yeah, via flying pigs. Tim laughed bitterly. Try explaining to a four-year-old why you have to break your promise to her—again. Not to mention dealing with his ex-wife’s disapproval. Melissa might understand the circumstances better than Megan would, but he had a lot of history with far worse excuses to live down.

I was thinking Amtrak, but if flying pigs are your jam, I’ll see what I can do, the man said dryly. "Seriously, I can get you to Chicago for