“What is her name?” “You already know her name.” “Do you have her number?” “Yes.”
“Then you have accomplished more than travel.” Jack laughed despite himself. The airport reopened more fully by seven. He was rebooked for noon.
Claire landed just after eight-thirty. The snow at her destination had stopped. Rebecca’s wedding was at eleven.
Claire ran through a different terminal, though less desperately this time. Her mother and brother-in-law’s cousin were waiting by baggage claim. Margaret Bennett hugged her so hard Claire almost dropped the suitcase. “You made it,” her mother said.
“I made it.” “Where is the man?” Claire pulled back. “Mom.”
“What? I am collecting facts.” “He didn’t get a seat.” Margaret looked genuinely disappointed.
“Does he have your number?” “Yes.” “Good.” The wedding happened in Rebecca and Tom’s small neighborhood church with evergreen branches tied to pew ends and candles burning near the altar.
Claire arrived with thirty-two minutes to spare. She helped Rebecca fasten pearl buttons, pinned the borrowed blue ribbon inside the wedding dress, and gave her mother the terrible airport picture frame with a snapshot of Richard Bennett inserted later from a duplicate kept in Margaret’s desk. Margaret cried harder over the ugly frame than she had over Claire’s expensive gift the year before. During the ceremony, Claire watched Rebecca walk toward Tom and understood something she had spent years making unnecessarily difficult.