Page 27

“Everything okay?”

“Handled.”

I nod once and go back to my plate. For a few minutes, we eat and watch Hildie accuse one of the women at her table of cheating. Then Mackie looks at the clock on the wall.

"What time's your flight?"

"Two-forty."

"I'm glad I caught you before you left. I wasn't sure you'd still be here."

“And here we are, enjoying leftover turkey."

She leans back in her chair. "You were a pretty good Christmas distraction, Carson North."

"You weren't bad yourself."

"High praise."

"I give credit where credit is due."

She smiles, but it stays there a little longer this time.

Then Hildie calls my name from across the room, and I take my plate to the bus tub on the way over to her. After I settle a dispute, at least for now, I tell Hildie I have to head out. The woman she accused of cheating leaves, and Hildie stands to hug me.

We say our goodbyes, and she walks me to the main door. I look around, but I don't see Mackie. It's probably for the best. We've said goodbye twice now.

Outside, the sun's already hard. Lis's car is in the lot. Mackie's leaning against the side of it, arms crossed, sunglasses up in her hair. Well, I guess we'll get our goodbye number three, after all.

I walk to the Sentra and set my hat on the roof. Through the back window, my suitcase and the duffel are sitting on the seat. Neither of us looks at them.

I have to be at Tampa by one.

"I offered to pick something up for Manny at the Walgreens. When I got back and saw your car was still here, I knew you'd be leaving, so figured I'd give you a proper goodbye since it wasn't appropriate over turkey."

"Lucky me. I looked for you before I left and figured you'd taken off."

She loops her arms around my neck. "I've really enjoyed meeting you, cowboy. You made this a Christmas I won't forget."

"Likewise. I'm looking forward to season two of the Christmas Affair next year."

"You better believe it."

With that, I lean down and kiss her. I'm not sure either of us expected it, but I don't know when I'll see her again. It isn't as quick as I intended, but neither of us seems to mind.

"Drive safe to the airport," she says. "Hopefully no issues in Denver this time."

"Yeah, let's hope not."

I pick up my hat and get in the car. She stands there with her arms crossed, then waves as I pull off. She's still against Lis' car in the mirror when I pull out, and she stays there, small and getting smaller, until I turn onto the road and can't see her at all.

The Sentra makes Tampa with time to spare. I turn it in, take the shuttle, check the duffel, and stand in the security line with a small bag in one hand.

The flight boards on time. I sleep some of it, the flat kind of sleep that leaves you more tired. When we drop through the clouds into Denver, the ground is white and hard and going gray toward dark.

The lot shuttle drops me at row H at 7:40. My truck's where I left it, the windshield buried under ice thick enough that I can't see the seats.

I toss my duffel in the back and check the temperature on the dash. Then I have to do a double take. Four days of Florida weather and my body's forgotten what the number means. It's real, and I feel it in my teeth already.