We’ll be home Sunday. Please take care of your guests.
Mom and Dad.
She read it once more before putting down the glass.
“Should I add Pat’s number?”
“He has both of ours.”
“I know.”
She straightened the paper anyway.
That night, Derek called again.
Karen answered.
I could hear him speaking, though not every word.
“No,” she said.
Then, “Because I’ve already answered.”
She closed her eyes briefly.
“I love you, too. Good night.”
When she came to bed, she lay awake beside me.
After a while, she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever disappointed him on purpose.”
“You aren’t doing this to disappoint him.”
“He’ll be disappointed.”
“Yes.”
She reached for my hand under the covers.
Neither of us slept particularly well.
Our ride arrived just before four the next morning.
I locked the front door while Karen checked her purse for the boarding passes she had already checked twice.
The driver had the heat on and a low radio playing. We passed dark houses, a gas station, then a bakery with lights on in the back.
Karen watched through the window.
At the airport, families were gathered around suitcases and coats. A little girl in pajamas slept across two seats near our gate while her father guarded a cardboard carrier of coffee.
Karen sat beside me with her cardigan folded over her lap.
“Still time to have second thoughts,” I said.
“I’ve had enough of those.”
When our group boarded, she handed over her pass without hesitation.
We took our seats. She had the window.
At seven, while we were in the air, Derek called.
Then he called again.
Our phones were on airplane mode. We saw the missed calls after we landed in Tampa.
There were messages from Melissa, too, and one from Jenna.
Karen read Derek’s first text.
I’m at your house.
The next said, Found the note. Call me.
She held the phone for a moment, then typed back.
We’ve landed safely. We are spending today with Pat. We can talk later.
I sent Derek a message of my own.
This is not an emergency we can fix from Florida. You and Melissa need to handle the dinner.
He answered with one word.
Understood.
Pat was waiting near baggage claim with two coffees balanced in a cardboard tray.
She hugged Karen carefully around the cups.
“You made it.”
Karen held on longer than she usually did.
Pat looked over her shoulder at me.
“Was she trouble?”
“Not nearly enough.”
That got the first proper laugh of the morning.
On the drive to Sarasota, Pat talked about road construction and a neighbor who had begun feeding an egret despite everyone asking him not to.
She didn’t ask for the latest messages.
She knew why we had come. She also knew Karen didn’t need to spend the entire visit explaining herself.
By the time we reached Pat’s house, the morning had warmed enough to sit outside.
Her little white house faced an inlet. Bougainvillea climbed near the mailbox, and a gray cat named Murray watched our suitcases pass with mild disapproval.
On the porch, Karen slipped off her shoes.
Pat brought out toast.
“Lunch will be late,” she said. “Dinner will be when the chicken’s done. Nobody has to dress.”
Karen took a piece of toast.
“That sounds organized.”
“I’ve been planning for minutes.”
My wife laughed with her mouth full and covered it with a napkin.
I hadn’t realized how much I wanted to hear that.
What happened in Ohio came to us afterward, mostly from Derek, with a few details Jenna supplied when she called Karen the following week.
At seven, Derek had driven to our house.
He later admitted he had expected to find us dressed, irritated, and waiting to be persuaded.