airport, no matter what the city claimed. The City Council had expanded it after the last hurricane, in a last-ditch attempt to boost Galvestonâs civic morale. A lot of taxpayers had quickly used it to leave Galveston for good.
They checked her motherâs luggage. Laura watched her mother chat with the ticket clerk. Once again she was the woman Laura remembered: trim and cool and immaculate, self-contained in a diplomatâs Teflon shell. Margaret Day: still an attractive woman at sixty-two. People lasted forever, these days. With any luck, her mother could live another forty years.
They walked together toward the departure lounge. âLet me hold her just once more,â her mother said. Laura passed her the baby. Her mother carried Loretta like a sack of emeralds. âIf Iâve said anything to upset you, youâll forgive me, wonât you? Iâm not as young as I was and there are things I donât understand.â
Her voice was calm, but her face trembled for a moment, with a strange naked look of appeal. For the first time Laura realized how much it had cost her mother to go through thisâhow ruthlessly she had humbled herself. Laura felt a sudden empathetic shockâas if sheâd met some injured stranger on her doorstep. âNo, no,â she mumbled, walking. âEverything was fine.â
âYouâre modern people, you and David,â her mother said. âIn a way you seem very innocent to us, oh, premillennium decadents.â She smiled wryly. âSo free of doubts.â
Laura thought it over as they walked into the departure lounge. For the first time, she felt a muddy intuition of her motherâs point of view. She stood by her motherâs chair, out of earshot from the sprinkling of other passengers for Dallas. âWe seem dogmatic. Smug. Is that it?â
âOh, no,â her mother said hastily. âThatâs not what I meant at all.â
Laura took a deep breath. âWe donât live under terror, mother. Thatâs the real difference. No oneâs pointing missiles at my generation. Thatâs why we think about the future, the long term. Because we know weâll have one.â Laura spread her hands. âAnd we didnât earn that luxury. The luxury to look smug. You gave it to us.â Laura relaxed a little, feeling virtuous.
âWell â¦â Her mother struggled for words. âItâs something like that but.⦠The world you grew up inâevery year itâs more smooth and controlled. Like youâve thrown a net over the Fates. But Laura, you havenât, not really. And I worry for you.â
Laura was surprised. Sheâd never known her mother was such a morbid fatalist. It seemed a weirdly old-fashioned attitude. And she was in earnest, tooâas if she were ready to nail up horseshoes or count rosary beads. And things had been going rather oddly lately.⦠Despite herself, Laura felt a light passing tingle of superstitious fear.
She shook her head. âAll right, Mother. David and Iâwe know we can count on you.â
âThatâs all I asked.â Her mother smiled. âDavid was wonderfulâgive him my love.â The other passengers rose, shuffling briefcases and garment bags. Her mother kissed the baby, then stood and handed her back. Lorettaâs face clouded and she began snuffling up to a wail.
âUh-oh,â Laura said lightly. She accepted a quick, awkward hug from her mother. âBye.â
âCall me.â
âAll right.â Bouncing Loretta to shush her, Laura watched her mother leave, blending in with the crowd at the exit ramp. One stranger among others. Ironic, Laura thought. Sheâd been waiting for this moment for seven days, and now that it was here, it hurt. Sort of. In a way.
Laura glanced at her watchphone. She had to kill an hour before the Grenadians arrived. She went to the coffee shop. People stared at her and the
Skeleton Key, Ali Winters