Page 3 of The Business Trip

Quickly, I slipped on the cap and tucked my hair up into it as best I could, keeping my eyes low as I made my way to the ticket counter. A perky woman with a flawless bob and way too much eyeshadow greeted me.

“Good morning! Checking in today?”

How could she bethisawake at 5:30 a.m.?

“Yes, I actually have to buy my ticket. It’s OK to pay cash, right?”

“Sure is,” she answered, but I thought I could also feel her eyeing me. What woman shows up in a baseball cap and pays cash? “And where are we headed today?”

“Denver,” I replied and mustered up fake enthusiasm. “Bachelorette party. Girls just want to have fun, right?”

“Yes, they do,” she said, taking my driver’s license and typing in the information as I carefully reached into my purse and removed some of the cash. Not enough for her to see the wad that remained, of course. I didn’t want her to get suspicious. I set the bills on the counter and added, “I’ve been saving up tip money for this. I can’t wait!”

“Do you need a return ticket too?” she asked.

I hadn’t anticipated that question. I had to think fast.

“Uh, no… I’m driving back with one of my girlfriends Monday.”

She nodded and counted the bills, then hit a few buttons and a ticket started spitting out, the whir of electronic printing sounding like further freedom to me. My shoulders began to relax just a touch.

“You’re here awfully early.” She cocked her head slightly to the side. “Your flight doesn’t leave until this afternoon.”

My shoulders tensed again. I tried to act as if I were laughing it off.

“Oh. I have some work to do, so I thought I would just do it here.” I gestured toward the carry-on. “My laptop is in my bag. And another girlfriend is joining me for lunch before we board.”

She handed me the boarding pass. “Terrific. I hope you have a great girls’ weekend!”

“Thanks.” I smiled and wheeled my carry-on filled with mismatched socks and dirty clothes to the security area, picturing Glenn, still deeply asleep. But what would happen when he woke up? Nervous energy began to settle in, and I started to chew my fingernail. He might or might not report me as missing. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t because he wouldn’t want to be the center of a police probe. They could find out he never paid taxes and got paid mostly in cash from his construction buddies. Nor would he want the feds to see the pot plants he kept in the window by the sink. Marijuana was still illegal in Wisconsin. Would he care enough about me to file a missing person’s report? Or would he chalk it up to “oh well, the bitch is gone” and move on to find someone new? I guessed the latter.

I figured I had maybe a week before he would do anything too big. In the meantime, he would be calling me, texting me, trying to track me down across town, threatening me, telling me I had better fucking get home. But after a week, I could imagine him reaching a decision point. Would he inform the police, or would he think that was too risky on himself? Continuing to mull this over as I got through security and found the gate, I slid into one of the black vinyl chairs and found a different nail to chew.

Squeezing my eyes tight, I thought of my grandma, the one person in life who I had felt truly close to. Grandma had died right before I hit high school. Mom later said that Grandmawould roll over in her grave if she saw how I had turned out, but I didn’t believe that. The Grandma I remembered brought me presents and candy and let me sit on her lap as long as I wanted as a young child, the smell of her patchouli perfume comforting me. She used to tell me I was smart and pretty, in that order, and not to confuse the order. That was even after my struggles with schoolwork, and those words meant so much to me. Now I needed her to look down from heaven and help guide me. I wasn’t the praying type, but I shut my eyes and sent one up to Grandma anyway.

CHAPTER 2Stephanie

The Night Before the Flight

Packing was one of my least favorite activities. Ironic, given how much I traveled. Oh, sure, I always had a small bag of toiletries ready, travel-size shampoo and conditioner from my favorite brand, a bar of moisturizing soap in a pink plastic container, a sample of my favorite perfume (floral and airy), but it was the organizing of clothes that had always been a chore for me. Now it was 10:30 p.m. and I couldn’t put it off any longer.

I had promised my team I would work a half day the next morning before leaving for the conference. You know, get them going on the right foot before the boss was gone. It was going to be a long travel day: Madison to Denver. Denver to San Diego. The News Coverage Summit started Thursday morning.

In attendance would be a hundred news directors, none of whom had ever met each other, all coming together to hear from experts and share opinions. Television stations across the country were trying to make local TV news better than it was. Viewers wanted something different—declining ratings proved that—and we were all attempting to figure out exactly what.

When I looked over the clothes in my closet, a dark greensilky blouse caught my eye, and I slid it off the hanger, pairing it with some tan work pants; that would work for outfit number one for the first day.

Now for outfit number two. My eyes scanned the rows of professional clothes. I had tried to organize my closet by work and play, half on one side and half on the other. The play side was a mess: yoga pants and sweatshirts haphazardly strewn about, jeans discarded on the floor. But the work side I kept fairly well organized. Had even arranged it by color. Green was taken care of with the blouse, so how about a pop of something else? I spotted a bright pink blazer and found a fitted black shirt to go under it with some black pants. Those could go with black pumps. For outfit number three, I dialed it back a bit and chose a navy blue sweater and houndstooth pants with shoes that looked like sneakers with a heel.

Now that the main outfits were taken care of, I could add the supplementary ones. A long floral dress and a shorter black one, pajamas, workout shorts, running shoes, my favorite pairs of underwear, several bras ranging from practical to lacy, Spanx of various configurations, and a mix of socks.

Adding my prescription sleeping medicine, Ambien, and a flat iron and curling iron for options, I packed up a travel jewelry box with short and long earrings and a selection of necklaces. Finally, around 11:15, the duty was done. Heaving a sigh as fatigue started to creep up behind my eyes, I was zipping the suitcase closed when Fred came and rubbed against my leg, purring softly.

“Hey, Freddie boy.” I picked him up and cradled him on his back like a baby in the crook of my left arm. He blinked at me approvingly and purred more as I continued to pet his belly with my other hand. “Yes, Mama is going away, but I’ll be back soon. And Robert will feed you.”

Mama had to go away too often. My boss, Dave, was always asking me to represent the station at conferences, seminars, workshops, and our quarterly meetings at corporate headquarters in Cleveland. I had been feeling for a long time like he probably thought I was the easy button to push. Maybe I was. A divorced woman with a grown child and only a cat, I could drop everything and go, that much was true, but the travel was wearing on me. None of it was fun travel. It was work, and I had to be “on” all the time, schmoozing with others and talking corporate-speak. This was the fourth work trip in the past six months I had been asked to go on.

Kissing Fred on the top of his head, I put him back on all fours. He sniffed the suitcase, rubbed his cheek against it twice, and jumped on my bed, walking in a slow circle to find his spot, ready for sleep.

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