Jack nodded solemnly. “We may have found the real family offense.” Claire elbowed him lightly.
Inside the gift shop, they searched for anything meaningful and found almost nothing. Snow globes with the airport logo. Plastic airplanes. Scarves.
Cheap perfume. Christmas mugs. Jack picked up a miniature wooden picture frame with holly painted in one corner. “This is objectively awful,” he said.
“It is.” “Which means you can put a good photograph in it and blame the airport.” Claire turned it over. “My mother would laugh.”
“Then it works.” She bought it. Jack purchased three toy airplanes for his nieces and nephew and a small brass keychain shaped like a house. Claire noticed the last item.
“Who gets the house?” “My father.” She looked at him. “I didn’t say I was good at confrontation.”
“What does the house mean?”
Jack shrugged. “He built our first one himself. Mostly on weekends. Terrible kitchen. Great porch.”