Chapter 22
Lauren’s travel day began far more auspiciously than the one before.
The Raleigh–Durham airport had been bustling when she arrived, but her flight departed on time and was smooth the entire way to JFK.
Pumpkin, once again, was a quiet and unfazed travel companion.
Their scheduled layover before the short hop to Providence stretched a little more than four hours, allowing her plenty of time to consider what might have been.
Lauren located the pet relief area for Pumpkin.
She’d switched her phone out of airplane mode as they’d taxied to the gate.
Now, while Pumpkin sniffed methodically for her “spot,” Lauren opened her messages.
There was no text from Mike. She tapped over to email.
Nothing. The hopefulness in her expression dissolved as she scrolled.
She told herself not to care. They’d known each other for less than twenty-four hours.
She bagged Pumpkin’s waste as another traveler entered with a guide dog.
Pumpkin strained at her leash.
“She’s working, sweetheart,” Lauren murmured. “Remember our rule. We don’t distract service dogs.”
“Thank you,” the handler said.
Lauren smiled. “Of course.” She disposed of Pumpkin’s waste and added, “the bag dispenser is forty-five degrees to your right and six feet in front of you.”
“That’s very helpful.”
“The sink’s on the opposite wall. The room’s about eight feet across.”
“I appreciate it.”
“My pleasure.” Lauren washed her hands, and she and Pumpkin stepped back into the bustling concourse. “Let’s do some exploring,” Lauren said.
Pumpkin trotted at her side.
“We’ve got time to stretch our legs before Providence. You can see and sniff to your heart’s content. I’m hungry, so we’ll get food, but, first, I need clothes. I have no idea when my checked bag will catch up with us.”
They passed a cluster of souvenir shops, each bursting with Statue of Liberty replicas, Empire State Building snow globes, and Yankees caps stacked like fortifications.
Lauren barely slowed. New York–branded hoodies, T-shirts, and fleece pullovers weren’t what she had in mind.
If she’d been pressed for time, she would have grabbed something. But she wasn’t.
They passed a newsstand, a tech shop, and a glossy cosmetics storefront.
Then she stopped. Two slender artificial pine trees flanked the window of a boutique ahead.
Between them, a long table overflowed with folded cashmere scarves, showcasing solids in every imaginable shade, from dignified neutrals to vibrant sherbet hues and plaids ranging from muted to jubilantly bold.
Inside, a rack of turtleneck sweaters stood like sentries. A sign on the door read:
ALL CASHMERE 25% OFF—THE PERFECT GIFT
“What do you think, girl?” Lauren murmured. “Does Mommy need one of these? Or maybe we should get one for Kathy and my sister?”
Pumpkin planted a paw against her knee.
Lauren laughed. They entered the shop. The air smelled faintly of cedar and wool.
She moved first to the scarf table. A Burberry-inspired plaid in tonal greens, accented by navy stripes, was perfect for her sister, whose wardrobe revolved around denim.
A deep charcoal, light gray, and camel plaid, elegant and restrained, looked like Kathy.
Lauren chose both. Then she picked out a classic taupe-and-cream houndstooth for herself. It was a sensible, safe selection.
She checked the tags on all three scarves. Even on sale, they were pricey. If she were going to buy a turtleneck too, she needed to stop there.
Her gaze drifted. One scarf lay apart from the rest, as if waiting for her. The lovely garment was a saturated azure, the color of Caribbean seas and summer skies. Lauren’s wardrobe was disciplined: black, gray, camel, or navy. If she ventured into color, it was red. Predictable red.
This blue was something else entirely. She touched it. It felt like a whisper against her fingers. She carried it to a narrow mirror fixed to the wall and wrapped it around her neck, letting the folds frame her face. The color made her complexion glow and her blue eyes brighter.
She studied herself. The woman staring back was different, somehow, more confident and self-assured. Lauren glanced down at Pumpkin, then back at the scarf. “Today is not the day to be practical,” she murmured.
Lauren walked to the table and replaced the taupe-and-cream houndstooth on its stack. She kept the blue scarf for herself and then selected a cashmere turtleneck in a complementary shade.
The clerk smiled as she rang up the purchase. “Beautiful choices.” Lauren asked about outerwear, and the clerk directed her beyond the next set of gates to an athletic shop.
They continued on their quest. JFK pulsed around them.
The excited cries of children calling “cute doggie” accompanied them.
At the athletic shop, racks of performance fleece and technical shells lined the walls.
The only coat that met her immediate need was a black raincoat with a heavy zip-in lining.
It was functional, warm, and generously cut.
Not a glamorous garment, but reliable. And it would look beautiful with the blue sweater and scarf.
She made her purchase and exited the shop. They had just over two hours before boarding. Passengers pulling rolling suitcases flowed through the concourse like branches caught in a swollen river. Pumpkin gave a startled yip when a man rushing for his flight clipped her with the toe of his shoe.
“Sorry!” he called, not breaking stride.
Lauren bent and scooped her up. “I think we’ve explored enough,” she whispered into Pumpkin’s fur.
“Let’s find food and a quiet corner.” An hour later, Lauren had finished a hamburger and fries, and Pumpkin had eaten half her dinner ration of kibble.
“I’ll give you the rest tonight at the hotel,” Lauren said, pouring water into the bowl. “Last chance for a drink.”
She pulled out her phone. The airline app now listed her Providence flight as delayed by forty-five minutes. “Here we go,” she muttered. Despite her determination to unplug while she was gone, she checked her messages and email. Mike still hadn’t contacted her.
Her thoughts spiraled. Maybe he hadn’t appreciated the gift.
Maybe he was married, or was involved with someone and didn’t want to blur lines.
She pressed her lips together. That wasn’t the energy she’d felt from him.
He’d been open, warm, and interested. Or so she’d thought. Maybe she was losing her instincts.
Or perhaps—the thought struck hard—he’d never received the pajamas at all. Another guest might have taken them. Housekeeping could have tossed the bag. Her chest tightened. Neither seemed likely. His silence felt heavier by the minute.
Pumpkin pawed at her ankle.
Lauren exhaled. “Okay, girl,” she said. “Let’s both use the restroom one more time and head to our gate.
” She stood and adjusted the vivid blue scarf at her neck.
“I’m never going to know what happened with our friends from the hotel,” she told her companion.
“And that’s okay. We’re going to have a beautiful vacation.
” She gave Pumpkin’s leash a gentle tug. “Time to move forward.”