A Land Rover full of real estate agents

As Keith and Ginny rounded the curve at the bottom of the last steep climb before the pass, their headlights caught the reflectors of a gold Land Rover pulled to the side of the road. Two people wearing new, stylish, tailored parkas were standing outside looking at it, one bending to look under the car. There was a dribble of dark spots in the snow leading up to the car, and a larger spot under the rear bumper.

Keith stopped alongside and stepped out, wearing his orange "Roadside Assistance" vest, while Ginny tried to raise their dispatcher on the radio. She kept an eye on Keith in case she needed to run out with the first aid kit. The wipers swept thickly falling snow from the windscreen.

"Southfork Dispatch, this is Garnet Pass Rescue at the scene, come in," Ginny called. Static crackled out of the radio. "Southfork Dispatch, Garnet Pass, come in."

The radio replied in a buzzing voice, "Garnet Pass, this is Southfork Dispatch, say again your situation."

Keith waved his arms, signing to her through the windshield.

"Southfork, we are at the rescue scene. We have... four... females, all OK, no injuries. The vehicle is... non operational, a mechanical failure," Ginny reported.

"Garnet Pass, we copy four females, no injuries, mechanical failure," the voice buzzed through the crackling static. "Weather is closing in, advise you get home within forty, I say forty minutes."

"Copy forty minutes," Ginny said to the buzzing voice. "Over and out." Ginny thought to herself, 'Four gals? Gonna be a little snug.' She popped open the back gate and got out to help Keith and the women move their luggage into their 4WD.

On the way back, one of the women shared the front seat with Keith and Ginny, and three of them wedged into the back seat. 'Wedged' was right, thought Ginny. All of them seemed to be wearing jewelry and makeup, and they looked like exotic summer birds to Ginny, who was used to the sunburn-and-lip-balm look on women.

The woman in the front seat was a slim, long-necked woman with the most stylish winter gear. Her blonde hair was cut in a short, sharp cut, and she wore amber teardrop glasses and sparkly stud earrings. She introduced herself as Trish, top in urban residential sales.

"Real estate?" asked Ginny.

"Of course, real estate," Trish said. "All of us are real estate agents."

"Um," came a voice from the middle of the back seat, "I take the exam when we get back. Oh," she added, "I'm Sabrina." Ginny looked around to see a petite, blue-eyed woman with her dark hair pulled back. She was wearing expensive winter clothes, but they seemed a size too big, and from what Ginny had seen on the ski slopes, a year or two out of fashion. She wore a round pendant on a fine chain, and tiny silver hoop earrings.

"Sabrina dear," said the woman to her right, "you might as well be an agent already. We all know how hard you work." Ginny turned further around and saw a stout, fortyish woman with bright red hair, wearing gold sunburst earrings. "And really, this outing was in honor of you. Oh yes," she said, turning to Ginny, "Pleased to meet you. I'm Meg."

Sabrina giggled, turned pink, and ducked her head.

The woman in the left rear seat added, "Without your sales effort, our office wouldn't have closed that final sale and made top in state. You must know what that means to us." Ginny looked over at her, and saw a big, round-faced woman with long dark hair and red coral jewelry. Ginny thought she looked Chinese.

"To your percentage, you mean?" asked Meg. "But don't let's talk business, this is vacation! Or it was until the transmission seized."

"Till you squeezed its balls off?" replied the woman on the other side. "But let's not talk cars, this is vacation, come hell or high water!"

"That's our Vic!" said Trish. "Never keep her down."

'Vic' met Ginny's green eyes with her flashing black ones. "Pardon me!" she said. "I'm Victoria." She put her hand over Ginny's which gripped the top of her seat. "Let me be the first to thank you for saving our lives." She smiled at Ginny. Then she looked at the back of Keith's head, and over to Meg. "What do you think?" she asked. "Could we drink him under the table?"

"Oh, could we!" replied Meg with a grin.

"Hey, wait till we get settled, folks!" Keith said. "No teasin' the busdriver!"