Save the Date(22)
“You have to admire a kid who wants an Australian-themed birthday party,” Bill said as he rolled up the banner. “That’s a pretty awesome move. I’m pretty sure the theme of my ninth birthday was just ‘eat as much pizza as possible without puking.’?”
The woman behind us cleared her throat. “I let William know this already. But my staff needs to have the proper decorations in enough time to get set up before the event begins.”
“Right,” I said, nodding, like that would help me come up with a plan for tracking down what had happened to Linnie and Rodney’s stuff. “We’ll get them to you,” I promised recklessly.
“Absolutely,” Bill agreed.
“Great,” she said, heading toward the door. “Just let us know when you have the right materials here and my staff can get started.”
When she’d left, I looked at Bill, hoping that he secretly had some plan beyond the one I had formulated, which was to google “Clay birthday location nine Australia.”
“Okay,” Bill said, “so I’m guessing this is a Clementine issue? Pland said that she was getting events mixed up.”
“You’re probably right,” I said, silently cursing Clementine in my head.
“I’ll get in touch with Pland,” Bill said, already typing on his phone. “Find out where this birthday party is taking place. And—”
My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and I pulled it out, expecting that maybe it was Linnie, wanting an update on the decorations. But it wasn’t Linnie. My screen read MIKE CALLING.
I hesitated; then right before voice mail would have picked up, I answered. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even spoken to Mike. “Hello?”
“Hey, Charlie.”
I turned away and took a few steps toward the door. It felt too surreal to talk to my brother while a kangaroo cutout looked back at me. “Um. Hi.”
“Sorry to bother you,” he said, speaking, as usual, more quietly than most people, so that you had to lean in to hear him. Linnie always claimed that Mike being soft-spoken was just a normal reaction to following J.J. in the birth order, but I knew it was a low-key power move.
“What’s going on?” I asked, not in the let’s catch up way, but in the what do you want way.
“Can you come get me?”
“Come get you?” I asked, turning the volume up all the way on my phone and pressing it closer to my ear.
“Yeah. I’m at the airport,” Mike said, and I felt my breath catch somewhere in my throat. “I came for the wedding. I’m here.”
CHAPTER 5
Or, The Prodigal Son Is Waiting at Baggage Claim
* * *
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, I DROVE through the entrance of the Hartfield-Putnam Airport. Bill had assured me that he could handle things at the Inn—he’d texted another of the Where There’s A Will employees to come over to the Inn and help get to the bottom of the decoration mistake. “But if we can’t,” he’d said, eyeing another banner, this one reading HAPPY PERTH DAY!, “how do Rodney and Linnie feel about Australia? Are they fans?” My expression must have given away how I felt, because Bill immediately looked stricken. “I was just kidding,” he said quickly. “Total joke. It’ll be fine, I promise. Here.” He grabbed what looked like a wrapped salami and held it out to me. “Want a Great Barrier Beef?”
Feeling like things were being handled, I’d left, after exchanging numbers with Bill so that he could call me as soon as there was news. I’d texted Linnie that Mike was coming after all and that I was going to the airport to pick him up. She’d texted me back a series of emojis—startled, confused, then turning into a stream of happy faces. I’d texted her back a thumbs-up, then headed to the airport, not exactly hurrying. I even stopped at Stubbs Coffee on the way and picked up an iced latte. I knew Mike was at baggage claim—but there was a piece of me that, frankly, didn’t mind that he was waiting. He shouldn’t expect the world to revolve around him and that I’d drop whatever was going on to come get him. If he’d wanted to have someone there to meet him at the airport, he should have let us know he was coming.
The taxi in front of me slammed on its brakes, even though it was going only about four miles an hour, and I slammed on mine as well. Shaking my head, I drove around it, pulled forward toward baggage claim, and put the car in park.
I got out and looked around, but there was no sign of Mike. Which was so typically my brother—call for a ride but then not be there when you came to pick him up.
I took a drink of my latte, then pulled out my phone to call him just as it buzzed with an incoming text from Siobhan.
Siobhan
Want anything from Zingerman’s?
Me
YES
One of the brownies PLEASE
Also
Siobhan
What?
Me
Mike’s here
Siobhan
WHAT?
Me Apparently he’s coming for the wedding Can you ducking believe it?
I’m at the airport now
UGH
Siobhan
Whoa
Linnie must be happy though, right?
Me
Yeah
But still
I looked down at my phone, feeling like if anyone was going to understand this, it was my best friend. I took a deep breath and started typing faster.