The plane touched down in Calgary at precisely twelve minutes after noon. Caroline’s forehead had been pressed against the window of the small aircraft ever since they’d left San Diego, her eyes following the gradual muting of the sky as it dulled from bright blue to steel gray over the course of the flight.
“It looks like we’ve landed on the moon,” Michelle said from the seat beside her, probably the most words she’d uttered all trip.
It certainly looks cold, Caroline thought, noting the large piles of shoveled snow on the ground along the edge of the runway. She was glad Michelle had persuaded her to wear boots, even though they weren’t lined and likely weren’t waterproof. She was also glad her daughter had insisted she bring her heavy down coat, a coat she’d purchased on impulse immediately following her divorce and had rarely had occasion to wear. In fact, she was glad that Michelle had insisted on accompanying her, even though it gave her one more thing to worry about. Maybe worrying about Michelle would take her mind off the insanity of what she was doing.
“Coming?” Michelle asked from the aisle as the plane was emptying.
Caroline scrambled to her feet, grabbing her coat and overnight bag from the overhead bin. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours all night and she was exhausted. Also hyper. Not a great combination, she thought, following Michelle to the front of the plane. She thanked the flight attendant, then struggled to catch up to her daughter, who was walking very purposefully, her bag thrown across one shoulder, her arms swinging at her sides. Does she always walk this fast? Caroline wondered. And has she always been so thin?
She’s so thin because all she eats is raw fish and vegetables, she thought with her next breath. Or maybe it was the bulky down jacket that was making her hips seem so narrow, her thighs so inconsequential.
“Holy crap,” said Michelle, the words disappearing into tufts of steam upon contact with the frigid air. “How does anyone live here? It must be forty below.”
Caroline shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her legs growing numb inside her thin wool pants, as they waited in a small line of travelers for a cab. “The Fairfax Hotel on Stephen Avenue Walk,” Caroline directed the driver as they climbed into the backseat.
“Is it always so cold here?” Michelle asked. “My ears are frozen.”
“It takes some getting used to,” the cabbie said pleasantly, his Pakistani accent melodic and thick. “Summer is very nice.”
“Too bad Lili didn’t call in July,” Michelle said to her mother.
They didn’t speak again until they reached the hotel half an hour later. The drive into the city had been as uneventful as it was uninteresting. A flat landscape covered in snow. Michelle was right, Caroline thought. It did feel as if they’d landed on the moon.
The hotel was an old gray stone building, maybe ten stories high. Caroline paid the cabdriver in American dollars and they hurried into the lobby to escape the bitter wind. The lobby was surprisingly warm, the walls painted eggshell beige, the carpet a rich weave of brown and gold. Brown leather sofas and chairs were strategically placed throughout the large room, and a round oak table stood in the middle of the rug, a huge arrangement of colorful silk flowers at its center. But Caroline noticed only the empty sofas and chairs.
“She’s not here,” Michelle said, giving voice to Caroline’s thoughts.
They approached the reception desk. “I’m Caroline Shipley. I have a reservation,” she told the young man behind the counter. He had curly blond hair and a gap between his front teeth that seemed to widen when he smiled.
He typed something into the computer in front of him. “Yes, here you are. You’re booked for one night, possibly two. Is that correct?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Wait a minute,” Michelle said. “We’re not actually going to check in, are we? I mean, what’s the point? She’s not here.”
“What else would you have me do? There isn’t another plane till tomorrow.”
“Is there a problem?” the clerk asked.
“No,” Caroline told him. “We’re good.”
“We’re good and crazy,” Michelle said, not quite under her breath.
“Could you see if there are any messages for me?” Caroline asked.
The young man glanced back at his computer. “No. Nothing.”
“You’re sure? Could you look again?”
Michelle groaned audibly. “There are no messages, Mother.”
“No messages,” the clerk repeated. “Do you prefer smoking or nonsmoking?”
“Smoking,” Michelle said.
“Nonsmoking,” Caroline said, their voices overlapping.
“Come on, Mom. Give me a break.”
“If you have to smoke, you’ll do it outside.”
“I’ll freeze to death.”
“Better than dying of cancer.”
“Nice one, Mother.”
“Nonsmoking,” Caroline said to the waiting clerk.
“King-size bed or two doubles?”
“Two doubles,” Caroline and Michelle said in unison.