Banner by Noaluvjames

Chapter 2

Buffy listened to Dawn discuss her day as the two ate dinner. She really enjoyed this part of the day, catching up on all the exciting things that had happened to her daughter. Blue eyes lit mischievously, while her golden locks bobbed, as Dawn spoke animatedly about the fun she’d had. Buffy laughed at her antics; her daughter was such a charmer.

Soon, it was time for Dawn’s bath. Her child may have been a charmer, but lack of sleep could turn her into a little hellion. After her bath, Buffy tucked Dawn in and read her a quick story. She was half asleep by the time Buffy finished the first few pages.

She quietly exited the room, making sure the night-light was on as she shut the door. She made quick work of cleaning the dinner dishes, then settled down in front of the television. She picked up the mail that she had discarded earlier and flipped through it. Mostly bills, nothing new there. One letter she didn’t recognize. She scrutinized the smudged postmark for an indication of where it was from but couldn’t make it out. Finally, she turned it over so that she could open it.

Dear Ms. Summers,

Congratulations! Your entry was randomly chosen for the grand prize of one weeks stay at the Churchtown Cottages in Crackington Haven, North Cornwall. The grand prize includes housing accommodations, airfare, as well as $500.00 spending cash.

To confirm acceptance, please contact the toll-free number below with the confirmation number at the bottom of this letter.

As stated on the entry form, reservation dates are from August 14, 2004, through August 21, 2004.

Again, we want to congratulate you on winning and we look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Anya Jenkins
Vice President, Marketing & Promotions

Re: Confirmation Number: 4937280Z8939792I8289
1-800-Getaway (438-2929)

Buffy re-read the letter in a bit of a daze. She vaguely remembered filling out an entry form while grocery shopping several months ago, but had thought it a lark. Besides, it wasn’t like she ever won anything. Still, it couldn’t hurt to call them in the morning, just to see if it was a hoax. She glanced at the number again. ‘1-800-getaway. Yeah, that’s what I need, a nice getaway.’

~*~*~*~*~

William Thornton, the English-born actor known in Hollywood simply as "Spike", looked out over the night skies of Beverly Hills from the bay windows of the Ambassador Suite in The Regent Beverly Wilshire hotel. He had a press junket scheduled for the next few days for his new movie Staying Power; it was already generating Oscar buzz. He hated the damn things, but such was the sacrifices he had to pay for being in demand. ‘Damn vultures. Bloody fickle, the lot of ‘em.’ He had long since resigned himself to performing at what amounted to little more than a three-ring circus, but a little bit of the rebel buried deep within had him contemplating skipping the whole damn thing.

‘Just two days. Two days until I’m off for some much needed down time before I begin my next project,’ he repeated the silent mantra in his head. ‘I can put up with anything for the next two days.’ Thinking about the cottage he had reserved for the entire month of August under his mother’s maiden name in Crackington Haven brought a rare smile to his lips. Peace and quiet for the next month. No agents, no press, no pretentious people that crawled around Hollywood trying to latch on and not let go. He was finally going to enjoy his much deserved break- take in the sights, sleep, maybe even work on his music.  Though, that had gone by the wayside a few years ago after being “discovered” for his supporting role in an independent film called Beginnings. Yep, two more days; he could hardly wait.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy sat at her desk the next morning, the grand prize notification laid mockingly before her. Her hand hovered above the phone, uncertainty marking her facial features. Decision finally made, she determinedly snagged the phone out of the cradle and dialed the number.

“Good morning! Getaway International. How may I help you?” a pleasant voice asked.

“Yes, my name is Buffy. And, I received a notification in the mail that says that I won the grand prize.”

“Yes, ma’am. Do you have the confirmation number? It should be located at the bottom of your letter.”

“Yes! Yes...” Buffy read off the confirmation number for the woman.

“Hmmm. Yes. That’s the right number, but I have Elizabeth listed as our grand prize winner.”

“Oh. That’s me. Elizabeth Anne Summers. Buffy’s my nickname. Sorry.”

“Well, then. It appears everything is in order. I’ll connect you with Ms. Jenkins so that she can go over the details with you. One moment, please.”

Buffy heard the elevator music sound in the background as she was placed on hold. A tiny smidgen of hope began to claw its way through her. A week alone in England, right before her classes were due to start. What more could a girl ask?

After a few moments, the hold music ended and another woman spoke into the phone.

“Ms. Summers?”

“Yes. I’m Elizabeth Summers.”

“Wonderful. Congratulations!” the voice said and proceeded to launch into all the perks of being the grand prize winner. Buffy just sat back in her chair, a dazed look on her face. ‘Stuff like this never happens to me. I have to be dreaming. But, please Lord, don’t wake me up yet!’

Her mind-wandering came to an abrupt halt at the conspicuous silence on the other end of the line.

“Er, I’m sorry. What was that again?” Buffy asked.

“I just wanted to make sure that you had a current passport. It’s probably too short of notice to attempt to apply for one now. I believe that was one of the stipulations when filling out the entry form.”

“Yes, ma’am. I have one. Current and everything!” she rushed out. Excitement was slowly building inside her that maybe she wasn’t dreaming. She may actually be going to England for a week, all expenses paid.

“Well, it appears that everything is in order. I’ll get the ticket booked for you and forwarded, along with your cottage reservation information, to your residence. You should be expecting it within the next few days. Do you have any questions?”

“No, ma’am. Thank you. Thank you very much. I’ll keep my eye out for that information.”

“No problem dear. Enjoy your stay in England.” And with that, she rang off. Buffy reverently laid the phone back in the cradle and leaned back in her chair. A small trail of tears slipped silently from the corners of her closed eyes. She swiped at them, and opened her eyes to look at the ceiling. ‘Sorry about the crack yesterday. And, thank you for this,’ she whispered silently to God. Two weeks could not go by fast enough.

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