by Cook, Claire
Chapter
Nineteen
Michael opened the back of his 4Runner and helped me stow all my stuff inside. When I'd called his cell from the taxi, he'd still been at work, killing time before he drove to Logan to meet Annie and Lainie's flight from Savannah.
"There's my rubber chicken," he said with a grin. "I've been looking everywhere for that."
"Ha." I hauled my weary body over to the passenger door and climbed in.
"Thanks for giving me a ride," I said as we buckled our seatbelts. Michael had been waiting for me in front of his office building with his motor running when the cab driver dropped me off. Life didn't have to be complicated.
He put on his blinker to take a right on Congress Street. "Not a problem. As long as you don't mind hitting the airport before we head back to your place."
"Whatever," I said.
"Hey, you know that ice cream cake I put in your freezer? How long will it take to thaw?"
"You're asking me?"
"Never mind, I'll figure it out. Anyway, I stocked up on all of Annie and Lainie's favorite junk food, too. I figured I'd let them stay up late enough for a quick party. I even got balloons and party hats on my lunch break today. They'll probably think they're goofy as hell but I wanted to do it anyway. And I hope you don't mind, but I stole one of your poster boards last night after you were asleep to make a welcome home sign. I forgot to mention it this morning."
"You forgot to mention anything this morning. You were a total grouch, by the way."
"Sorry about that."
I sighed. "Yeah, well, I think I caught it from you, so don't expect too much from me tonight." I closed my eyes and tried to breathe my post-break-up headache away. The Dog Biscuit in a Bag I'd left on John's kitchen counter flashed before me.
"I'm working remote most of the week so I can be with the girls, and Dad says they can hang out with him if anything comes up."
"I'm pretty much open, too," I said.
Michael turned to look at me. "Are you okay?"
I shrugged. The night went from getting dark to dark as we drove into the Sumner Tunnel. As much as I tried to tune it out, John's voice was playing over and over in my head, like a bad talk radio show. Think about it. Horatio is just another excuse to push me away.
Right. You ask me to eat out of your dog's dish, and I'm pushing you away?
I'd just finished peeling off my Ace bandage when we pulled into the central parking garage. I rolled up the bandage and tucked it into the glove compartment. It's not like I'd been faking it. Well, maybe a little. But now that Horatio was out of the picture, I didn't need it for even psychological reinforcement anymore.
"Which airline?" I asked as we pulled into a spot in the short-term section.
"US Airways." We pushed our doors open and climbed out of the 4Runner. Michael clicked the door locked and put the keys in his pocket. He'd shaved this morning and his haircut had softened enough that it no longer screamed New Haircut. He was wearing a nice pair of dress pants and a long-sleeved pale blue shirt with the cuffs rolled. Even if we weren't related, I'd think he was good looking. Once he got over Phoebe, someone would scoop him up in a heartbeat.
I winced as it hit me that Michael might find someone new before I did. Our relationship would flip-flop once again, and he'd be the one taking care of me.
The elevator was stark and cavernous, a big step down from the one at Necromaniac. We got out on Level 4 and rode the moving walkway across the pedestrian bridge to Terminal B. Mayor Menino's recorded mumble welcomed us to Boston, even though we'd been here all along.
We stopped in front of the first Arrivals screen we came to and looked up.
"On time?" I asked.
"Seems like," Michael said.
I scanned until I found Savannah. "Flight 2345. 8:21 PM. Wow, it's already landed. We'd better get to baggage claim."
We rode yet another elevator down a level and found the baggage carousel. Suitcases were already rolling out of the chute. Passengers surged as it circled past.
I tried to pick out the girls in the swirl of people. "So how is this going to work?" I whispered to Michael. "Are we dropping Phoebe off or is she getting picked up by . . .." An image of Uncle Pete popped into my head and stopped me from finishing.
Instead of answering, Michael took out his cell phone.
I yawned. It had been a long day, and I couldn't wait to get home. With luck Annie and Lainie would sleep in and I could wallow for a while tomorrow before I had to fake the cheerful aunt. I'd been seesawing between anger and sadness since I'd left John's condo, and now I was just teetering in the middle, numb. What a stupid, stupid end to a relationship. I hoped Horatio was happy now.
Michael was intent on his phone, so I wandered off to make a quick visit to the restroom. I carefully avoided looking at myself in the mirror while I washed my hands, as if not seeing how bad I looked might keep me from feeling even worse than I already felt.
The luggage carousel was still moving when I came back out, but only one suitcase was riding around. It was a leopard print thing made out of some kind of hard material that made me think of a fiberglass boat.
I found Michael. "Do you think they missed their flight?"
He shrugged. "Must have. The last one from Savannah gets in at 10:18. We might as well go grab something to eat to kill some time."
"Don't you think you should text Phoebe first to be sure?"
"I already did." He flipped his phone from one hand to the other and then back again.
"And?"
He shrugged again. "They're probably up in the air."
"Good clam chowder," Michael said.
I nibbled a corner of my quesadilla and took a long buttery sip of chardonnay. Michael was drinking water, but he was driving. And he hadn't had my day.
We were seated at Legal C Bar, which we'd been lucky enough to find on the pre-security side. It was dark and cozy, with red shades on the wall sconces and tables lit by candles tucked into amber glass holders. If you had to kill a couple of hours at the airport, and you had nothing better to do for the rest of your life anyway, you couldn't pick a better place.
Legal C Bar was owned by Legal Sea Foods, and it was supposed to only feature "C" foods, things like chowder, crab, calamari, classic Caesar and clams. It was a nice idea, though it didn't quite translate to the menu, which also included lobster, mussels, and my grilled shrimp quesadilla. These are the kinds of inconsistencies that drive preschool teachers crazy, though I had to admit the food made up for it.
Michael checked his phone again. I'd left mine buried at the bottom of my shoulder bag. If there were messages for me, I didn't want to know about them.
I sighed.
Michael sighed.
I took another bite of my quesadilla that didn't start with the letter C.
"God damn it, Phoebe," Michael yelled. "Pick up the phone."
His voice echoed in the almost empty baggage area. A uniformed woman pushing a trash barrel on wheels looked over at him. It was almost 11:30 PM and the baggage carousel for Flight 2661 was circling around, empty and purposeless.
I could relate.
I watched Michael hit Redial again. I realized I should tell him to knock it off, but the only thing I had the energy to do was yawn.
"Are you sure they were supposed to come home tonight?" I asked when I finished.
Michael just shrugged.
A thought worked its way through the fog surrounding my brain. I reached over and yanked his phone away.
"Michael, when was the last time you talked to Phoebe?"
He shook his head. He ran his hand through what was left of his hair. "When they landed."
"Wait. You talked to her when they landed? Where was I?"
Michael folded his hands together, almost like he was going to confession.
He sighed.
He rubbed his eyes with his fists.
"When they landed in Savannah," he said softly.
"What," I screame
d. "We've been sitting here all freakin' night and you didn't even know whether they were actually getting in tonight or not?"
"That was the plan. Phoebe was going to text me the flight info."
"That was the plan a week ago. And you haven't heard from any of them since?"
He shrugged.
I woke up Michael's phone with my thumb and pressed Redial. It rang and went to voicemail.
From the depths of my shoulder bag, my own cell rang. I gave Michael's phone back to him and dug up mine.
I checked my Caller ID.
"What is your problem?" I yelled. "Why are you torturing my brother?"
"I can't take it anymore," Phoebe said quietly. "Tell him to leave me alone. He can have the house. He can have everything. The girls and I are moving in with my parents."
"What?" I said. "You can't do—"
"They can spend all their vacations with him. He can have them for every holiday." She let out a little sob. "Please, Sarah. He'll listen to you."
Chapter
Twenty
Michael grabbed my phone. "What the hell is going on, Phoebe?" he yelled into it.
"Don't you dare hang up on me," he yelled a moment later.
He held the phone out to me. "She hung up."
I bit my tongue so I wouldn't say, ya think?
"What did she say to you?" he yelled at me. The woman with the trash barrel rolled by us again, looking like she might call security any minute. I smiled at her to show her we weren't crazy. Or at least not dangerous.
"Shh," I hissed at Michael. "She's pretty emotional right now, so I'm sure she didn't really mean it, but she's, um, thinking of staying in Savannah."
"She can't do that. It's my turn to have the girls." He paused. "How long?"
"Forever?"
Michael's face turned ugly. Then he ran.
"Michael," I yelled.
When I caught up to him, he was standing at the ticketing counter, but fortunately no one appeared to be working there at this hour. Or maybe they were sneaking in a nap out back. Just the thought of it made me yawn.
I reached for my brother's forearm. He shook me off and jogged over to one of the self-service kiosks. Given how long it took me to navigate those things, I figured I probably had enough time to call Carol to find out what to do.
I woke her from a sound sleep, but once she realized it was a true emergency, she clicked right into gear.
"No, no, no. Do not, under any circumstances, let him get on the next plane to Savannah."
"Any thoughts on exactly how I might manage to stop him?"
"Okay. Walk me over to Michael and hand him the phone."
"Oh, thank you," I said. "You're so much better at this stuff than I am."
"Hurry up, before he buys a ticket. You can kiss up to me some other time."
I'd been hiding just around the corner, so I made it over to Michael in three big steps.
I tapped him on the shoulder and handed him my phone. "Carol," I said. "It's an emergency."
I was dying to hear both sides of the conversation, but I didn't think it would go over very well if I asked Michael to put the call on speakerphone.
"I don't care what it costs to get on the next plane," Michael was saying. "Really? That much? Okay. Okay. I'll hang tight, but hurry."
I wandered around until I found a relatively comfortable faux leather chair across from a bench I could put my feet up on. There was a chair right next to it for Michael. In fact, most of the other chairs were empty, too, and the only restaurant that appeared to be still open was a tiny Dunkin' Donuts.
Michael ignored the chairs and paced. I followed him with my eyes until he dropped out of sight, then picked him up again when he'd finished circling the pre-security side of the terminal. Then I watched him until he disappeared again. And reappeared. Once he stopped and punched a wall. A man, stretched out on the floor nearby and using his backpack for a pillow, startled awake then closed his eyes again.
The ring of my cell phone woke me. I jerked back to consciousness, trying to locate Michael and make sure my shoulder bag hadn't been stolen at the same time.
I found my phone. "Yeah," I said. My voice sounded like I'd been out partying all night.
"Okay," Carol said. "I found a last minute vacation package."
"What?" I said.
"They buy out these blocks of airfares, and if they don't sell, they unload them dirt cheap at the last minute, so airfare and hotel combined are a fraction of what you'd pay for the airfare alone."
"Fascinating," I croaked. When I blinked, my eyelids felt like they were lined with sandpaper. I squinted to see if Dunkin' Donuts was still open. I was definitely going to need some serious caffeine if I had to drive Michael's 4Runner all the way back to my house at this hour.
"Mother Teresa," I said, as a new thought hit me. "Ohmigod, Michael didn't even go home after work. She hasn't eaten and she's probably peed all over my house—"
"Dad fed her and took her out last night."
"Oh, good. I'll take her out for a long walk when I get home. So, how is this going to work? I wait 'til Michael's on the plane and then drive his car home, right?"
"Where is his car parked?"
"In short term parking, on the second level. Row G. Or maybe it was J."
"Grab Michael and meet me there."
"When?"
"Now. I'm just pulling into central parking."
"Huh?" I said. "You're here? Why? And how'd you get here so fast?"
"Come on, Sarah, get with the program. It's almost 4 A.M."
Mayor Menino welcomed us to Boston again as we rode the empty moving sidewalk back to central parking. The elevator opened right away and I pushed the button for the second floor. When Carol called, Michael had been dozing in the chair next to mine. When I shook him awake, he'd jumped to his feet, pretending he'd been awake all along.
I'd told him we had to meet Carol in the garage, and neither of us had said a word since then. We'd walked right past Dunkin' Donuts, the smell of brewing coffee whispering to me like a drug dealer, but I hadn't been able to function enough to decide whether or not we had time to stop and get some.
The elevator stopped with a bump. Michael rubbed an eye with one hand and reached to hold the door open for me with the other. "Hey, why is Carol here anyway? Couldn't she have just sent me everything in an email?"
I tried to get my fuzzy brain to put the pieces together. "Maybe to drive your car home?" I shivered in the damp, pre-dawn air.
Michael squinted. "Then who will drive her car home?"
I yawned. "Me?"
Michael yawned back. "Doesn't make any sense."
I yawned again. "Like anything does these days."
Carol was waiting for us next to Michael's 4Runner. She not only looked wide-awake, but my guess was that she had a clipboard in her minivan holding everything Michael would need in the exact order that he'd need it. Carol was an event planner, a job that suited her extreme bossiness as well as her anal tendencies. Even though she was my sister and could drive me absolutely crazy, I'd hire her in a second. Not that there were any events in my foreseeable future.
"Hurry," she said. "We're going to have to move this shitbox to long term parking so it doesn't get towed."
"Huh?" I said.
"I don't get it," Michael said. "And don't call my car a shitbox."
Carol gave him her big sister glare. "When you wake me up at midnight, I can call anything of yours anything I want to."
"I didn't wake you up," Michael said. "Sarah did."
"Thanks," I said. "Throw me under the bus. I needed that right now."
"Shut up, you two." Carol held her hand out. "Give me the keys, Michael."
"What the hell is going on?" I said as I shoved my net equipment bag over and climbed into the backseat.
"Yeah," Michael said. "This better not be a trick."
"What kind of trick?" I said. I was so tired I had a crazy urge to put my Ace bandage back on again, as if it
might somehow help me hold myself together.
Michael shrugged. "You know, like to try to keep me from going to Savannah."
I hadn't even thought of that. Probably because my brain hurt when I tried to think. Maybe Carol should just park Michael's car somewhere so we could all take a nap. Then once we were rested, we could get some breakfast and a cup of coffee or twelve. Things would start to make sense again, and before we knew it we might have an actual plan.
Carol drove up a level. I rolled down my window, hoping the dank morning chill might keep me awake. Short-term parking had been almost empty, but this end of the garage was more heavily populated. I kept an eye out for her red minivan so I could shout it out if I saw it first. It wouldn't be the world's biggest contribution, but it was all I could come up with in my current condition.
Carol screeched around a corner and pulled into an empty parking space.
My father was leaning back against his sea green Mini Cooper.
"Whoa, Nelly Belle," he said. "Drop the anchor on that boat before you take someone out. I'd like to live to see Savannah."
Chapter
Twenty-one
"Dad?" I said after I'd clambered out of the backseat. "What are you doing here?"
He winked. "You don't think I'd let a perfectly good hotel room bed go to waste, do you now? It'll be a grand vacation. We'll have a boys' room and a girls' room, just like the good old days."
"Wait," I said. "I'm going? But I don't have any luggage." As if this was the only thing that was totally insane here.
My father opened the back of his Mini Cooper. The back seats were folded down and four almost identical black carry-on suitcases with rollers took up every square inch of space. "Tah-dah," he said as he gestured with both hands.
"I packed a suitcase for both of you," Carol said. "In my spare time."
"What about Mother Teresa?" Michael said.
