She was having a good time, a wonderful time, and it was certainly a sad thing to have it ending so soon. But she knew a week was enough (especially for Alfred) and they would be going home today. Hypothetically. She was just slowly coaxing herself awake when she heard her name. Margaret being the least-used thing she could ever possibly be called, particularly by him, she had to assume the worse, jumping out of bed and hastily shoving her glasses onto her face to run out to him.
"What's wrong?" Maggie was, predictably, in panic mode. "What is it?"
Maggie sighed, just staying where she was and taking a moment to clean her glasses off on her scarf. After he'd been inside a moment, she followed him in, collecting her phone and the office number, as well as the snowshoes.
"I'm heading back towards the main road, Al. I shouldn't be more than an hour."
Alfred had crashed on the couch, wrapped up again in his snuggie and idly flipping through TV channels. "Don't die, since you won't be able to call me if you do."
"I will do my level best." She wasn't irritated at the situation, no, just at his lousy attitude. But she wasn't going to stay and fight when she had a task to do, so out she went, strapping the snowshoes on and trudging down the long driveway. Seclusion was nice, until you had to hike out of it after a snowstorm.
Apparently, she'd underestimated both how long it had been since she'd last worn snowshoes and just how far she'd have to go for reception, as it wasn't until a good hour and a half had passed that she was making her way back to the cabin, out of breath, but mission accomplished.
Alfred was regretting his flip remark by the time Maggie came back to the cabin, after watching the time tick past an hour, then an hour and a quarter, then an hour and a half. He jolted up when he heard a noise at the door, grabbing the closest thing to a weapon at hand, which happened to be Maggie's hockey stick (it COULD have been the serial killer that had taken her out and was coming after him), and edging toward the door.
When he saw Maggie coming in, though, he dropped it in relief. "Oh thank God."
She took off the snowshoes, then came inside, sitting unceremoniously on the floor just inside the door to finish ridding herself of the rest of the gear. "At any rate, the lady at the office says they'll try to get us out tonight, otherwise not to worry and we'll be ploughed out first thing in the morning. I also called and left a message for the cat sitter."
"What's wrong?" Maggie was, predictably, in panic mode. "What is it?"
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"I'm heading back towards the main road, Al. I shouldn't be more than an hour."
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Apparently, she'd underestimated both how long it had been since she'd last worn snowshoes and just how far she'd have to go for reception, as it wasn't until a good hour and a half had passed that she was making her way back to the cabin, out of breath, but mission accomplished.
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When he saw Maggie coming in, though, he dropped it in relief. "Oh thank God."
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"What?" she asked, confused.
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She took off the snowshoes, then came inside, sitting unceremoniously on the floor just inside the door to finish ridding herself of the rest of the gear. "At any rate, the lady at the office says they'll try to get us out tonight, otherwise not to worry and we'll be ploughed out first thing in the morning. I also called and left a message for the cat sitter."
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"Thanks for callin' and stuff."
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"Gonna stop being cranky now?"
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