Chapter 45
Tessa had told Henry all she knew, she played it back in her head, a guy I met on an airplane, the lamest of beginnings, but she could not rewind to put the lingering double entendre away. He was a fan, he had the book, he was reading it, she’d said. And by chance he sat down next to me.
“By chance?” Henry had said.
Tessa had not liked the expression on his face, it was unfair and judgmental, and he was the one who was hanging out with Nellie and Barbie and who knows how many other prowling and calculating women with bouncy names.
“Airline seating is assigned,” Tessa had said. “You sit where the airline tells you to sit. You couldn’t possibly know where anyone else is sitting.”
“Unless you convince the flight attendant to change you,” Henry said. “Once you do know.”
“Well, sure, but—” Tessa hadn’t considered this, not until now, but again, wrong. “I mean, my picture is on the cover of the book he was reading. And there I was.”
“ I’ve never gotten a postcard from anyone I’ve sat next to on a plane.” Henry had cocked his head as if he had made some massive point.
Someone sat down beside her on the adjacent blue plastic seat. Tessa looked up from behind her palms, simply to reassure them that she wasn’t crying or sleeping or a problem. The woman opened a newspaper, ignoring her.
“Nor have I,” Tessa had said, “nor have I ever, until now, had a best-selling novel, or people bringing me presents, it’s all new, and I have no idea what’s normal.
He came to my event, and bought another book.
That’s exactly what I, and everyone at Waverly, and Sadie Bailey, and you, too, Henry, should be hoping for. ”
“You gave him your address?” Henry held the postcard between thumb and forefinger, as if it were contagious. Or evidence.
“Of course not. But who knows how people find things.” Tessa had hesitated, wondering if she should say it. “You told the bookstore where we lived, didn’t you? You’re the one who’s revealing exactly where we live. Not me.”
Stop, Annabelle had said. Just stop.
“Look,” she’d said. “I’ve got to go, Henry. I love you. Okay?”
At that, Henry had merely nodded. As if he were holding back some coup de grace remark.
“I forgot to tell you, before you go,” Henry had said then, and Tessa had seen his face change, in a way that she could not describe. “We’re getting a puppy.”
Tessa would never forgive herself, not for this, but she had slammed down her laptop, unplugged it, stashed it into its padded sleeve, dried her hair with mythical fury, and slammed her way into the Uber.
“A puppy,” she’d said out loud from the back seat.
“Excuse me?” the Uber driver had said.
“Nothing, sorry,” she’d replied. “Talking to myself.”
And now here she was in the airport, a latte cooling in the cupholder beside her, her suitcase in front of her, and no way she was going to call Henry back. A new house. Zachary out overnight. An outrageous haircut. And a puppy . And she’d been gone, how long? Three and a half weeks?
The unmistakable click of a public address system made everyone in the waiting area lift their heads, Pavlovian, like prairie dogs coming out of the ground.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the amplified voice began, and Tessa felt the atmosphere in the room deflate. Such announcements were never good news.
“This flight to Seattle is experiencing an unexplained red light in the cockpit, and our mechanics are checking it now. We expect only a brief delay, not longer than…” The voice paused, and everyone in the waiting area, strangers, exchanged looks of common dismay.
Tessa could almost feel them calculating how much time they’d have to wait, the complications on the other end, connections and obligations and appearances and families.
Tessa did her own calculations. San Diego and Seattle were in the same time zone, and she’d arrive in plenty of time for her 7:00 p.m. event.
She tried to look at these inevitable flight delays as found time, to catch up on reading, or look at her social— oh.
Her Facebook. It’d been days since she found that locket in her hotel room.
And two days since the earrings. And still no answers.
Which reminded her of wig woman. And the murdered chocolates. But worrying wasn’t going to help.
Worry. They’re getting a puppy , the thought made her seethe.
And certainly, certainly , this was the result of their newfound life-changing experience with sexy Barbie, the dog walker.
Who was coming at Henry from one side with puppies, and the other side with probing questions.
Tessa had to go home. Had. To. Go. Home.
It’s not the dog you’re upset about, Annabelle said.
“Thirty minutes,” the gate agent’s voice continued. “Thank you so much for your patience.”
“It’s not so much patience as necessity.” The woman beside her with the newspaper flapped her New York Times to a new page. She raised an eyebrow at Tessa. “What are we supposed to do? Walk to Seattle?”
“Never a dull moment,” Tessa said.
Newspaper Woman looked at her, and Tessa saw the glimmer in her eyes.
Saw her, Tessa could actually watch it happen, searching the faces stored in her imagination, trying to connect who Tessa was, where she’d seen her, and why.
Tessa, polite but unengaged, picked up her tote bag and her roller bag and wheeled away, purposefully, as if she had a destination in mind.
Which she did not. Recognition from Newspaper Woman, or anyone, was not what she wanted right now.
Exactly the opposite. She needed to be by herself, if there were any place in the airport’s bustling Brownian motion to do that.
She pulled her roller bag toward the higher-numbered gates, seeing, at the end of the corridor, a wall of wide plate glass windows.
Beyond that, a vast range of concrete, and beyond that, distant and layered, gentle rolling hills dotted with rooftops.
She stood at the glass, one hand on her roller bag handle, seeing into the far distance, trying to clear her mind of sorrow.
And of fear? Yes. And of fear.