24. Annie
Twenty Four
Annie
The bad hat had survived eleven months of touring, one failed disguise, and several attempts by Rachel to donate it without my consent.
It was on my head as I walked through the smallest airport terminal I had visited in years.
Rachel had wanted me to use a private exit. I had argued that taking a commercial flight and then disappearing through a private exit defeated at least part of the exercise.
We compromised on a side corridor normally used for delayed passengers and people attempting to recover lost musical instruments.
It was not exactly normal travel, but nobody photographed me, and the airport employee who escorted me only asked for an autograph after we reached the baggage claim.
Progress remained uneven.
My suitcase rolled behind me with a wounded clicking sound. One wheel had suffered an incident somewhere between New York and Florida and now resisted every left turn.
I could have replaced it.
I had not, partly because the damage made the suitcase look less expensive, and partly because I had become attached to the noise.
It sounded determined.
Ellie was waiting outside beside a blue pickup truck.
She wore denim shorts, sunglasses, and a white T-shirt. Her hair was tied back, although the wind had already pulled several strands loose around her face.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
We had spoken on video. We had exchanged messages every day. I had spent enough time imagining this moment to produce several versions, none of which included us standing twenty feet apart beside a sign directing passengers toward long-term parking.
Ellie looked at the hat.
“You brought it.”
“You requested evidence.”
“I assumed you had destroyed it for the public good.”
“It has historical value.”
“It has the name of a golf resort embroidered across the front.”
“History is rarely elegant.”
I stopped in front of her.
This was the point where people usually hugged.
Possibly kissed.
At minimum, there should have been some meaningful contact involving an arm or shoulder.
Ellie looked down instead.
“That suitcase sounds terrible.”
“It has been through a lot.”
“You could buy a new one.”
“I believe in loyalty.”
“You own seven guitars.”
“That is different.”
“How?”
“They have names.”
The moment passed without either of us touching.
I was relieved.
I was also disappointed enough to resent the suitcase.
Ellie opened the passenger door.
“Get in before somebody recognizes you.”
“Should I climb under the dashboard?”
“That would make people look.”
“I could pretend I work for the golf resort.”
“You lack the necessary training.”
I lifted the suitcase into the truck bed and climbed into the cab.
It smelled faintly of sunscreen, coffee, and salt. A folded Reef Rascal waiver occupied one cup holder, and a dog biscuit rested beneath the passenger seat.
I picked it up.
“Emergency supplies?”
“Captain Pancake believes every vehicle belongs to him.”
“Did he request a gift?”
“Hank requested one on his behalf.”
I reached into my bag and produced a stuffed lobster wearing a sailor hat.
Ellie stared at it.
“That is disturbing.”
“The airport shop offered limited cultural representation.”
“He’ll tear the hat off in seconds.”
“It’s stitched on.”
“That will make it interesting.”
She started the engine.
We left the airport without incident. There were no photographers outside and no suspicious cars behind us, although I watched the road in the side mirror for longer than necessary.
Ellie noticed.
“You can stop checking.”
“I’m being observant.”
“Sophie kept the flight private.”
“She did.”
“And Rachel?”
“She threatened several people and possibly an airline.”
“That sounds secure.”
“The captain recognized me.”
Ellie looked over.
“What happened?”
“He asked for a photograph. I said I was traveling personally and would rather not.”
“And he accepted that?”
“He asked me to sign something for his daughter instead.”
“You survived being recognized.”
“I am gathering data.”
“Do not start a file.”
“I left the legal pad at home.”
“Good.”
“I brought a notebook.”
She gave me a brief look, and I smiled.
The road narrowed as we moved away from the airport. Buildings gave way to low bridges, bright water, palm trees, and signs advertising fishing charters.
My body recognized the landscape before I was prepared for it.
This was where I had been Annie without having to explain what that meant.
It was also where I had decided I could keep being Annie for one more day.
“How was the flight?” Ellie asked.
“Uneventful. I nearly had a middle seat.”
“You did not.”
“It was visible from mine.”
“What did you actually have?”
“First row.”
“That is not adversity.”
“The overhead bin was full.”
“Did Rachel call the airline?”
“She considered buying it.”
The corner of Ellie’s mouth lifted.
Then the silence returned.
On the phone, one of us could look away, adjust the camera, or claim poor reception. Here, every pause remained in the truck with us.
“I wasn’t sure you would come,” she said.
“You invited me.”
“Famous people cancel plans.”
“I didn’t.”
“No.”
She kept her attention on the road.
“I only invited you for two days.”
“I remember.”
“You leave Friday.”
“My flight is at four-ten.”
“You already booked the return?”
“You asked for the details before I booked.”
“I meant the arrival.”
“I thought a return ticket might make me seem less invasive.”
That earned me another glance.
“It helped.”
I looked out at the water.
“I’m not expecting anything.”
“That seems improbable.”
“I am attempting not to expect anything.”
“Better.”
“I am hoping for food.”
“That is available.”
“And indoor plumbing.”
“We have made advances.”
“Everything else remains undecided.”
Ellie shifted her grip on the wheel.
“I don’t want this to become some kind of test.”
“For me?”
“For either of us. I don’t want to spend two days watching how you hold a fork and deciding whether it indicates long-term potential.”
“I hold forks well.”
“That sounded defensive.”
“I have received no complaints.”
She shook her head, but the tension in her shoulders eased slightly.
“I’m working tomorrow morning,” she said.
“That’s fine.”
“You can come to the shop, but if people start gathering, you leave.”
“Agreed.”
“You attract attention while doing very little.”
“That feels personal.”
“You wore a silver jacket on national television.”
“I am not wearing one now.”
She looked at the hat.
“That may be worse.”
When the truck turned onto Pelican Key, I recognized Rosa’s café first, followed by Reef Rascal across the road.
Captain Pancake stood outside with his front paws on the fence. Hank held the leash without appearing committed to the concept.
The dog saw the truck and began barking before Ellie had parked.
“Brace yourself,” she said.
“For affection?”
“For mass.”
I opened the door and got one foot onto the pavement before Captain Pancake launched himself at me.
I caught his front legs as he licked my chin, the side of my face, and most of the hat.
“Hello.”
Hank approached at a more dignified pace.
“You came back.”
“Ellie invited me.”
He looked at her.
“Good.”
Ellie narrowed her eyes.
“That is all you have to say?”
“I had more, but I’m protecting the moment.”
“You have never protected a moment in your life.”
Captain Pancake tried to climb higher.
I handed Hank the stuffed lobster.
“This is for him.”
Hank inspected it.
“He’ll like this.”
“He’ll destroy it,” Ellie said.
“That’s how he evaluates gifts.”
Captain Pancake grabbed the lobster by its sailor hat. The stitching lasted five seconds before a small piece of fabric flew onto the pavement.
“Impressive,” Hank said.
Across the road, Rosa appeared in the café doorway.
She took one look at me and crossed her arms.
“You brought bad hat.”
“I was instructed.”
“It helps. Nobody famous would choose it.”
“That was the original theory.”
Rosa crossed the road and hugged me without asking.
I looked at Ellie over her shoulder.
Ellie lifted one hand, suggesting island customs were beyond her authority.
Rosa released me and examined my face.
“You are tired.”
“I finished a tour.”
“You ate granola.”
“That accusation should be directed at Rachel.”
“I do not know Rachel. She is wrong.”
“She will be devastated.”
“You eat tonight. Seven.”
“Yes.”
Rosa pointed toward Ellie.
“You bring her.”
“I live here,” Ellie said.
“Then you know where.”
Rosa returned to the café.
Hank held up the remains of the lobster.
“Captain Pancake says thank you.”
The dog had already removed one claw.
“He communicates efficiently.”
Ellie reached into the truck bed for my suitcase.
“I can carry it.”
“I’m checking whether the wheel is a safety issue.”
“It requires intervention.”
“You sound like management.”
“Management would replace it.”
“They lack sentiment.”
Hank stepped between us and took the handle.
“I’ll bring it inside.”
Ellie and I both looked at him.
He stopped.
“Inside the shop?”
“No,” Ellie said.
“Your house?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
Hank looked between us, realized he had wandered into a subject not covered by his responsibilities, and placed the suitcase back in the truck.
“I’ll let you manage that.”
He disappeared into Reef Rascal.
I leaned toward Ellie.
“That was subtle.”
“For Hank, it was an extraordinary display of restraint.”
We drove the short distance to her house.
I noticed the porch steps, the clean windows, and the plant that had been moved aside near the door, leaving enough room for someone to carry a suitcase inside.
Ellie unlocked the house.
The living room looked almost exactly as it had before. The small sofa, the open kitchen, the table beside the window. There was no magazine on the counter and no photograph of me hidden in a frame.
No visible sign that my absence had occupied the house.
That should have reassured me.
Instead, I felt temporary.
Ellie carried my suitcase down the hall.
“You can use the spare room.”
“Of course.”
She stopped in the doorway.
The bed was neatly made, with one pillow arranged at the center.
I looked toward her bedroom without intending to.
Ellie followed my gaze.
“There are more pillows in the closet.”
“I wasn’t evaluating the pillows.”
“You were.”