"Yeah! Croquet!" said the two in unison. Then they both began explaining the rules of croquet. Soon they began arguing about the specifics and started to ignore CC and the blonde haired women. 

"You see that? I told you those firemen had things under control," said the old women, who seemed to be talking more to the driver than CC. 

"We don't need firefighters!" responded the drunken driver as he made a short series of sharp turns which caused CC's arms to bump away from the blonde. "It rains 99% of the time!" said the man. Suddenly as if on cue, there was a light drizzle.

The package opened, revealing a small slip of paper and a brass key. The paper was a note. It read:

Ms. Middleton,

I hope the contents of this backpack help you. I knew that this would be the one you would select! Unfortunately, it looks like your money was destined to burn, but hopefully the contents of the next package will make up for it. Feel free to sell the surfboard, but you may want to inspect it more closely before doing so. Try not to open the next package unless you are in an open area.

Your's truly, 

A----

Before CC finished reading the letter, a rain drop fell onto the name, blotting out everything but the first letter. Suddenly, it began to rain even harder and the passengers became drenched. The blonde struggled to make enough room to move her arms and take off her jacket to use as a  shield to protect her from the rain. The delay made her yellow shirt become wet and, to CC's delight, easy to see through. The blonde then lifted the red jacket slightly, clearly offering CC the cover from the rain.