Page 38 of The Last Session

It also looked quite remote.

I felt a flicker of unease. Which would be worse—that I’d spent close to $5K I didn’t have on a ridiculous wild-goose chase? Or that my questionable suspicions would turn out to be right?

I’d done everything I could to conceal my identity: I’d hidden my LinkedIn and changed my social media handles. Of course, they still had my name from my credit card. But nothing online linked me to the hospital, which was the bare minimum of deception I needed to find out anything useful on this retreat.

I texted Dom with the in-flight Wi-Fi.On my second flight. I’ll send some pix when I get there!I also texted a link to the CRH site. It didn’t hurt for her to know where I was. Just in case.

As we walked off the plane, the airport decor made it clear we were in the Southwest. The carpets were lined with jagged hunter-green and mauve stripes, the chairs were wrapped in studded brown faux leather, and paintings of horses and buffalo dotted the walls. I pulled my carry-on past a man facing away whose T-shirt read:I DON’T RUN. I RELOAD.

Guess we’re not in Kansas anymore.I passed a kiosk of silver jewelry, then another selling hot sauce and jars of green and red chile. Out thewindows, beyond the runway, clay-red mountains clashed against the bright cornflower blue of the cloudless sky. I was trailing my hip seatmate, and a white-haired man in a teal shirt and name tag grinned and motioned at us. “Baggage claim’s down the escalator, ladies. Watch out for rattlesnakes!”

The baggage claim was lined with neon blue and green lights, clashing with the tan and orange tiles. I followed Silver Jewelry Girl to carousel five—could she be coming for the retreat too? Would it be weird to ask? Besides those who’d been on our plane, there weren’t many people around.

I walked outside, breathing in the fresh, sweet breeze. My shoulders loosened. I hadn’t even thought about how it’d feel to be in New Mexico. To get out of the gray, depressive chill of New York’s early spring.

No one out here with a sign. I walked back through the doors and a sixtysomething white woman sitting on a nearby bench leaned forward. “You looking for something, hon?”

Another airport helper? But no, she had a suitcase next to her, a paperback splayed on her thigh.

I gestured vaguely. “Oh, I’m supposed to get a ride…”

“Are you here for the retreat? Center for Relational Healing?”

“Yes.” I approached her, relieved.

“Have a seat.” She patted the bench next to her. “The driver’s not here yet.” The book resting on her leg showed the pink outline of a woman, overlaid with the words:CRACKING THE CONFIDENCE CODE: Getting Back in the Dating Game After Divorce!

When signing up for this retreat, I hadn’t considered who the other attendees might be.

“I’m Karen.” She had a kind face, tan and crisscrossed with laugh lines. A large mole punctuated the bottom left corner of her mouth. I offered my name, and we shook hands. Then she picked up the book. “I probably shouldn’t be reading this in public, should I?”

Had I embarrassed her by looking? “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

She chuckled. “That’s the best part about getting older—you give less and less of a shit. Although it’s a little late to read it. I’ve been divorced ten years this week.” Her turquoise-blue eyes narrowed, mischievous.

“Oh, wow.” I hesitated; should I add aCongratulations?

“It’s a good thing.” She waved a hand. “We were together for twodecades. And a lot of the time it felt like taking care of another one of my patients. I was a nurse back then. One day I told him,Art, it’s over. It’s time for me.And…” She grinned. “It’s been me ever since.”

“That’s great,” I said.

“Not that I don’t date.” She sniffed. “I just haven’t had much luck. But that’s why we’re here, right?”

“Right,” I echoed.

Silver Jewelry Girl appeared in front of us, lugging a shiny black suitcase. “Hey, I couldn’t help but overhear. You’re going to the Center too?”

“We are!” Karen pumped her fist. “I’m so glad you ladies are here.”

“How long have you been waiting?” Silver asked.

“Not long. An hour or so. I got some chips, read my book. And now I’m ready to rock!”

“Great.” Silver caught eyes with me for a second, amused. I tried to smile neutrally. Karen seemed like kind of a lot, but I needed all the allies I could possibly get this weekend.

“What’s your name?” Karen asked her. “I’m Karen, and this is Thea.”

“I’m Mikki.”

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