Generations
MILES
I’m standing in baggage claim at the Baltimore airport, Reese by my side, trying to keep my cool as I wait for my grandparents. I can feel Reese’s eyes on me, but she doesn’t say anything until I finally look over at her.
She’s grinning. “So, this is what you’re like when you’re really excited about something.”
“I can’t help it—it’s been two years since I saw them in person. Phone calls and video chats aren’t the same.”
“Oh, I’m not knocking it. It’s actually very cute seeing you like this.” She pauses a moment, then asks, “So, have you heard any new family lore lately about the Lancaster grandparents? Hints of what they’ve been up to?”
“Just that they’ve been living in Portugal, doing humanitarian things.
My grandpa has been helping to upgrade a community center with low-maintenance solar panels, while my grandma is running language classes in the same building.
And knowing them, they’ve become unofficial grandparents to half the neighborhood. ”
Reese pauses a moment, then asks, “Do you think that’s all they’ve been doing?”
“Not for a second.”
“They’re in the witness protection program, aren’t they?”
I laugh. “That’s a good one.”
“Maybe they’re CIA.”
I shake my head. They’re not CIA. Or in any other intelligence agency. I would know.
Sometimes, when Reese’s brain goes anywhere along the lines of intelligence operatives, I love it.
I hope it’ll help her to clue in on what I do.
But other times, it scares me to death. We’ve been friends for five years, so when she does find out what I do, she’s going to be so mad that I haven’t told her that important detail about me during all that time.
I don’t know how long it’d take to get over something like that.
But in my defense, it’s my job not to tell her.
I legally can’t— I’ve signed an NDA. I mean, I could’ve submitted a request for permission to tell her by now, but I’m also scared that telling her will change how she sees me or how much she trusts me.
That’s why I like when her mind wanders into “spy” territory.
Maybe the only way she’ll ever get past my withholding the info is if she’s been slowly accepting it all along the way.
Reese is watching for them as much as I am now. “Maybe they’re sleeper agents. You know, people just out there living ordinary lives until they’re needed.”
“I’m not sure they’ve ever lived ordinary lives.”
“I’ve only met them twice and wasn’t around them for long,” Reese says. “But they seemed… normal.”
“I guess they really are.” I shrug. “My grandpa is always helping neighbors fix their heaters or their plumbing in his spare time. But he also worked for a defense contractor on aircraft, missiles, and space projects as an aerospace engineer.”
“Your grandpa is a rocket scientist?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And that falls into the category of ‘normal’ to you?”
I shrug again. “It felt normal. My grandma? She’s always baking cookies and taking them to neighbors. She also worked for the State Department as a linguist, specializing in cross-cultural communication. They just live extraordinary lives right alongside normal ones.”
Reese is shaking her head. “No wonder there’s so much family lore around them.”
“Oh, there they are,” I say as I spot an airport cart coming in our direction. My grandma is sitting in the front seat, next to the driver, and my grandpa is in the second seat with their carry-on luggage.
As soon as they pull to a stop near us, I hear my grandma say to the driver, “I’ll be thinking of you and Maya on Thursday. She’s fortunate to have so many people working to bring her home healthy, and to have you as her father.”
The driver seems genuinely touched, and they squeeze each other’s hands. I immediately go around to the side with the carry-ons and grab them as my eighty-something-year-old grandparents step off the cart.
Then I set the bags down and give each of my grandparents a big hug. They give Reese a big hug, too, calling her by name. Not that I thought they’d forget, but it’s been a couple of years since they last saw her, and then it was only for a few minutes.
Reese gestures at the retreating cart. “That’s so cool you ran into someone you know.”
I smile because I know my grandma.
“We didn’t know him,” Grandpa says, “but it only took a five-minute drive, and Elizabeth already knows his blood type. AB positive, in case you’re curious.”
Reese is looking like she doesn’t know whether my grandpa is exaggerating or if she should be in awe.
Then Grandma says, “Oh, Arthur. I only know his blood type because it was relevant. His daughter is getting a kidney transplant. Since Maya is O-negative, Daniel can’t donate directly to her, so he’s doing a paired exchange.
” She turns to me, putting a hand on each side of my face.
“Now, how are you, dear? You just get more and more handsome every time I see you.”
“Thanks, Grandma. I’m doing as good as ever.” I smile as I pick up their bags, and the four of us head to the baggage claim carousel for their flight.
As we’re walking, my grandpa says to Reese, “So, how are things going at the library? Are kids still coming in convinced that they hate reading, right up until the moment you hand them the perfect book?”
“All the time! It’s one of my favorite moments. They think they’re walking away with a book, but really, they’re walking away believing they’re a reader.”
Reese looks over at me and mouths, I can’t believe he remembered!
I smile. And I don’t miss the way Reese watches my grandparents curiously.
Seeing how comfortable they are together, the way they naturally move around each other.
The way Grandma straightens Grandpa’s collar and he hands her a water bottle from his bag.
Tiny things that show they look out for each other.
When we’re waiting in baggage claim for the luggage to start coming through, we’re next to a young family, so my grandma and I naturally start a conversation with them.
They were on the same connecting flight from Boston—they’d been visiting the wife’s mom as she recovered from knee surgery, and were arriving back home after a week away.
As Grandma and I are chatting with the family (and their six-year-old is telling us how good she was at helping her grandma with physical therapy), I hear Reese say to Grandpa, “So that’s where he gets it from!”
My grandpa replies, “Yep. Runs in the family. Those two could strike up a conversation with a fence post and come away knowing where it grew up.”
My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my pocket to see that it’s work. “Will you excuse me? I need to take this.”
I walk a dozen feet away to a less crowded area, switching fully into work mode as I do, then I answer the call. “Miles.”
It’s my tech op, Nora. “A security camera in Bucharest caught someone who matches a suspected courier from two previous Rooke transactions. We need to decide whether he’s worth mobilizing a surveillance team. Sending you an image.”
I pull my phone away from my ear to look at the text Nora sent. I study it for a moment, then put the phone back to my ear. “You’re still on him remotely?”
“Both Elliot and me.”
“No on-the-ground team yet. If he changes transportation twice, assume he’s working and mobilize. Keep me updated either way.”
We end the call, and I slide the phone back into my pocket as I look back at Reese and my grandparents.
Reese is studying me. She’s wearing a curious expression, like she’s sensed something that she can’t quite identify.
I swallow. It’s times like this when Reese gets extra perceptive about my secret life that I get nervous.
My grandma, because she’s my grandma, seems to notice both what just happened with me and what is going through Reese’s mind.
As if she’s trying to distract Reese from spending too much time along those lines of thought, she pulls something from her luggage, getting Reese’s attention, at about the same time I make it back to Reese’s side.
“I saw this in Prague and thought of you,” she says as she hands something to Reese. It’s about six inches long, narrow and flat, and is wrapped in brown paper. “When I found out you and Miles would be picking us up, I made sure to keep it accessible.”
“This is for me?” Reese unfolds the paper around it. It’s a painted wooden bookmark with bees and beehives carved into it. Reese looks stunned. “You remembered I love bees?”
“Of course,” my grandma says.
Reese is teary-eyed as she gives my grandma a hug. Then she looks at me, still blinking back tears. She’s reacting as if Grandma handed her something far bigger than carved wood.
My grandparents have always accepted Reese as a part of the family. Not a friend of the family. Just seeing their acceptance in action makes me want Reese to actually be a part of the family even more strongly.
I clear my throat and turn to my grandparents. “Prague? I thought you live in Portugal.”
“Yes,” Grandma says. “But Arthur still gets requests for help from various countries, so we get plenty of travel time in. No one else can match his brain.”
“Requests for what?” Reese asks.
Grandma smiles at Grandpa. “Oh, they had a problem that became considerably more expensive every time someone else tried to fix it.” She gives my grandpa’s upper arm a squeeze. “That’s when they called in the big gun.”
My grandpa will always deflect a compliment to my grandma, so he says, “Most recently, we were in Tbilisi, because Elizabeth still gets requests for help, too. No one can match her diplomacy skills.”
“What took you to Tbilisi?” I know I won’t get a solid answer, but I ask anyway.