Oh heyyyyyyyyyyy. This came to me, and I just had to write it for you! I hope you all enjoy it :)

"Oh, Phil," Anne whined, her voice muffled by the couch cushion she'd face planted in. "I can't believe my car would pick this week—of all weeks— for its transmission to die!"

"Anne, honeypie, it's really going to be okay," Phil soothed, rubbing Anne's back.

The two women occupied the plaid, navy couch in Patty's Place's sitting room, and their quiet conversation was scored by the sound of strong, spring winds whistling outside.

It was the Wednesday before Diana Barry's weekend wedding, and Anne's usually trusty compact car unexpectedly kicked the bucket.

And Anne was in quite the bind.

"I needed to be down there by tomorrow evening," Anne said, pulling herself up. "The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow night, and I can't drive myself down there, unless some kind of overnight mechanical miracle occurs!"

"Well, couldn't Marilla or someone drive up and pick you up?" Phil offered.

Anne paused and bit her lip.

"I really don't feel comfortable with Marilla driving such long distances anymore," Anne said finally. "You know how her eyesight has been dulling recently, and I couldn't impose on Mrs. Lynde or Di because they're so busy with all the last minute details."

The wind howled louder and the lamps flickered with an incoming storm.

"Well, what about a bus? Surely, one has to be headed out tomorrow morning," Phil said, getting up and stoking the fire.

"Well, I'm sort of strapped for cash right now," Anne said, her eyes cast downward. "You know how expensive bridesmaid dresses are, and Di had me get a little bit of a nicer— and more expensive— one as the maid of honor."

"Oh, well, I'd offer to drive you down," Phil began.

"No, no, you have that lunch with Jo's parents tomorrow," Anne interrupted sweetly but firmly. "And I could never ask you to do that anyway."

Phil put the poker back in its place and plopped in a striped armchair across from Anne.

"Well, who's headed from Redmond to Avonlea for the wedding?"

"That's the thing! No one's leaving until Friday," Anne explained. "But because I'm in the wedding party, I need to be there by tomorrow."

Rain began to patter on the warped glass windows, and the conversation lulled for one moment as a realization struck both women.

And while one woman would've happily let the thought slip by, the other voiced it as quickly as she could.

"Well, you know, Gilbert Blythe is Fred's best man," Phil smirked, a mischievous spark in her eye. "And I bet he would love to carpool."