Chapter 25
Finally, finally, finally. Tessa yanked her roller bag over the gap between jetway and plane, an hour late boarding, crossing that two-inch chasm from having her feet on the ground into relying on physics and lift and the skills of whoever was in the cockpit.
She remembered a book she’d read, long ago, where the writer considered the fragility of flight, and how much depended on whether the mechanics circling the plane before takeoff had a hangover, or were angry in a relationship, or whether they had skipped class on rudder-bolt day.
“Welcome, Ms. Calloway,” the flight attendant greeted her at the entrance to the plane, the galley door behind her open for the catering carts.
Her name tag said Maddalyn. “We’re big fans, and thrilled to have you.
We tried to finagle you into first class, but there’s no room.
I can upgrade your suitcase though, and put it in the first-class overheads.
Okay? And I see you have your name tag on it, good for you.
It’ll be easy for you to retrieve on the way out. ”
“That’s so kind of you.”
“Do you need anything from your bag first?”
“Nope,” Tessa said. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
She buckled herself into 10C, and in the brief interim while she still had Wi-Fi, she pulled up her socials, checking if anyone had recognized the man in the locket photo, or whether there was more reaction to last night’s event.
It already seemed like a long time ago, and so far away; that standing-room-only bookstore, the signing line, Sam.
The “hometown” woman haunted her, concerned her, perplexed her, even more now that she’d come back to the store, pushing for personal information.
That woman had some agenda. First her questions about Tessa’s hometown. And now “a gift.”
Tessa did not even want to think about her hometown. And certainly did not want to discuss it.
Would she recognize that woman if she saw her again? She opened her phone to her camera roll, searching for the wide shot of the attendees she took from the ReadRunner podium. She used two fingers to zoom in across the faces, scouting for the woman.
It was Where’s Waldo, the sinister version.
She almost laughed as she scanned the faces.
They all appeared to be expectant, and happy, and everyone was looking at the camera.
Hometown woman had been in the back. Tessa closed her eyes briefly, envisioning it.
Way in the back, on the right. She pinched the photo to that part of the room, and it was almost as if…
almost as if the woman had ducked down. There was a definite space for a person.
Tessa stared at the spot where the woman should have been, balancing coincidence and connection.
Just because something seemed connected didn’t mean it was connected.
Tessa was good at finding connections—that’s what successful storytelling was all about, how in a novel one thing related to another, and how one thing happened because of another thing.
Causation.
But sometimes, in real life, things were coincidence.
She flipped her cell into airplane mode, feeling guilty as the flight attendant, not her pal Maddalyn, tapped her on the shoulder, pointing to the phone. At least she’d ordered the guy in front of her to put his seat back upright.
Simply because she had wrapped the locket in trash can liners didn’t mean it was trash. It looked like trash, maybe , but it wasn’t trash. And if this woman was a fan of Tessa and her book, where else would she be but at the signing? She’d looked like a fan. But maybe she wasn’t a fan.
As she felt the jounce of the landing gear hitting the ground, Tessa realized she’d missed the Rockies.
She’d slept the entire flight. Denver , she thought, yawning to clear her head.
The landscape zoomed by as the airplane sped down the runway.
The Mile High City, she remembered, and worried about altitude sickness.
She lived at sea level, and hoped her body could adjust. All she needed, to disappoint her fans by being woozy.
Incredible, she thought, that people spent money to hear her talk about her book.
She’d never disappoint them, altitude or not.
Two dings from the cockpit, and Tessa stood, eager to get underway. They’d stashed her suitcase ahead in first class, which was nicely convenient.
She scanned right to left as she walked through the first-class cabin, seeing nothing but empty baggage compartments. As she got to the cockpit door, she frowned, and turned, searching again.
“Um,” she began. The flight attendant who had taken her bag wasn’t there, but a different one was.
Karine. “The other flight attendant put my bag up here? Maddalyn? I’m in 10C, and there wasn’t room, so she put it in first class.
” She kept eyeing the empty overheads, as if her bag would appear.
Her bag with all her stuff. “But it’s not here. ”
Many suitcases looked alike, but her name tag was on hers.
She thought about that, for a fraction of a second, picturing that it was marked with her entire name, Tessa Calloway.
Her email. And her phone number. And address.
She could have put any name she wanted on her suitcase, since she would recognize it, and other passengers would only think “not mine.” But now her tag revealed exactly who it belonged to.
And where she now lived. Her name tag was basically a billboard saying, “Here’s all you need to know to find Tessa Calloway. ”
There could be a novel about someone getting the wrong suitcase, Annabelle offered. Or, taking one. A suitcase can’t simply vanish .
Shush, Tessa thought. This is real life .
The flight attendant had opened a curtained closet at the front of the plane.
“Not here either, but I’m sure we’ll find it,” Karine said. “Can you step into the galley and let the other passengers go out while I look?”
Tessa eyed each passenger, examining the bags they carried, as ev eryone else exited the plane. She mentally catalogued the contents of her suitcase. Everything was replaceable. She never put anything valuable in there.
Except… the locket.
“Come on ,” she muttered. That locket. It meant something to someone, that was for sure. But, increasingly, it appeared to be more than simply a missing keepsake.
Karine had returned, looking perplexed. “Let’s go to the gate. I’ll bet someone turned it in. Suitcases look so much alike. Someone took the wrong one by mistake.”
“True,” Tessa said out loud, trying to convince herself that’s what happened. And then she stopped, scanning the almost empty plane. That’s when she realized why it wasn’t true.
“But there are no other suitcases left.” She gestured, wearily, toward the luggage bins, every white plastic lid flipped open, every space empty. “Someone took mine. And they did it on purpose.”