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Relieved, Meghan hauled her stuff into the main lobby. The aroma of freshly baked goods wrapped around her. A large screen displayed the arrival time of the next train. She was tempted to board the express back to Prague. It would certainly make Mom happy, as hiring a realtor to deal with the unexpected inheritance had been her preferred option.
Meghan sunk into one of the orange plastic seats lined against the wall and checked her phone. Uber was one tap away. A thirty-minute wait. Only one vehicle on offer.
Her stomach grumbled. She got up and pushed her suitcase into the small kiosk. The sight of the tantalizing baked goods display reminded her of her childhood visit to this part of Northern Moravia. Forget the French baguettes and the British scones. This was the stuff one could eat all day long and then some more.
The round pastries filled with cheese and jam looked delicious.
“I’ll take two of those and a latte, please.”
“Big or small?” the teenager behind the counter asked, lifting two paper cups in the air.
“Large, please.”
This was another welcomed change. As a child, she used to feel so out of place, speaking her five Czech words and not understanding any. Meghan smiled at the pleasant barista and tapped her card, wishing she had some change to leave in the tip jar.
Sipping her surprisingly great latte, Meghan returned to the orange seat and checked the app. It still showed 30 minutes until her ride would arrive, so she refreshed the page.The app stalled. Change of plans. Her fingers typed taxi near meinto the search bar. Three options popped up. Unsure, she swiped back to the Uber app. No change.
Not willing to get billed for a ride she never took, Meghan sipped her coffee and ate one of the pastries, then checked her phone once more. No change. Could she walk to the Airbnb? A glance outside confirmed the drizzle had turned into a steady rain.
One last check of the app produced no better results. With much apprehension, she dialed the first taxi company. The phone rang seven times, then disconnected. She tried the second number. Heat rose to her face as Meghan realized that the person on the other end may not speak English. How would she explain what she needed?
An automated voice spoke in her ear. Meghan deduced that the number was not in service, so she attempted her last option.
“Halo?”
“I need a ride.”
“Where?”
Thank you, God.Relieved that the man spoke English, she gave him the address.
“Okay, I come in one hour.”
“An hour?”
“Yes. Wait one hour. I have lunch now.”
Was the man joking?
“Yes or no?” his voice demanded through the speaker.
What choice did she have?
“Okay, I’ll wait here.”
“Good.”
The call disconnected.
She sunk into the plastic chair and bit into her second pastry, but the sweetness failed to calm her. Maybe she should call Mom, but Meghan knew what her reply would be. Nope, she could handle this. The call to Mom could wait until she settled into the Airbnb and perhaps even took a nap.
“Excuse me,” a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts. “Do you need a ride?”
She looked up. Her good Samaritan towered over her. His commanding presence took her aback, but his friendly eyes smiled.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“I overheard your conversation.”