Mistletoe Reunion. Anna Schmidt

this the best Thanksgiving or what?”

      The gate agent called Norah and Isabella’s row. Norah busied herself gathering her things and organizing Izzy’s belongings in her backpack.

      “We could share a car when we get to Chicago,” Tom said.

      “I’ve already reserved one,” she replied and then immediately added. “Of course, I could cancel it. Yes, sharing a car would be nice. Thanks.”

      “Okay, so see you in Chicago,” he said as he hugged Izzy.

      “You and your father can talk more there,” Norah promised Izzy as she hurried her toward the gate.

      You and your father…meaning what? She didn’t intend to say anything?

      She glanced back wanting to apologize for what he might have thought she was implying, but Tom was packing his computer, his back to her.

      

      “I have to go to the bathroom,” Isabella announced as soon as they had located their seats and she had stowed her backpack under the seat nearest the window leaving Norah with the middle.

      “I warned you,” Norah said, but stood aside, blocking boarding passengers so Isabella could make her way to the rear of the plane. She sat down again and bent to rearrange their belongings so that she would have some legroom. When she looked up Tom was standing in the aisle waiting for other passengers ahead of him to get settled.

      “I’m in the back,” he said, making a face.

      Norah shook her head sympathetically. “I’m in the middle,” she replied, indicating the obvious. It was the kind of banter they’d always been good at and a little of the initial tension between them eased. During their marriage they’d had a long-running debate about which was worse—back of the plane with its noise and turbulence or crushed between two passengers who seemed to think they had claim to all armrests.

      “Trade you?”

      Norah smiled. “Not a chance.”

      Tom moved on just as the crew chief announced another slight delay to allow passengers on a late-arriving plane to make their connection.

      A large man carrying a briefcase, carry-on luggage and an overcoat opened and slammed several filled overhead compartments. Norah pulled the airline magazine from the seatback pocket and flipped through it hoping he had the vacant seat across the aisle.

      No such luck. He forced the luggage into an overhead bin two rows ahead of them, then threw his coat onto the seat and sat down heavily, his bulk and the coat spilling over into Norah’s space as he jammed the briefcase under the seat in front of him.

      Norah nodded at him as she gently pushed his coat off the armrest they shared. The man ignored her.

      “Hey, Mom,” Isabella said. “Guess what?” Izzy was accompanied by a young woman with a toddler in tow and what looked like a newborn cradled in her arms.

      “This is Emma and she’s got the two seats next to Dad and she’d be willing to switch, so I said that would be great—I’ll even take the middle.”

      Norah tried not to take perverse pleasure in the look of pleading horror the businessman gave her. “You’ll take the middle?”

      “Yeah, come on.”

      “Excuse me,” Norah said sweetly as she recovered her purse and Isabella’s backpack and stood.

      “But,” the man protested as Norah slid past him.

      “Everything all right here?” the male flight attendant asked.

      “Perfect,” Isabella exclaimed. “My dad’s back there and this nice lady traded so that now we get to sit together and—”

      “Okay, I just need everyone to get settled as soon as possible. We’re about to close the cabin door.”

      Tom was standing in the aisle waiting for them. Norah tried not to stare at the way his hair—brown streaked with copper—was still thick and silky. She did not meet his chocolate-brown eyes, fixed on her as she slid next to the window and Isabella took the middle without protest.

      “You put her up to that—switching,” Norah said.

      “What?” Tom’s eyes were wide with innocence.

      “It was my idea, Mom,” Isabella said. “Honestly.”

      Norah had her doubts.

      “How are your folks?” Tom asked politely once they were buckled in.

      “Fine,” Norah answered equally as polite. This was going to be interminable. Suddenly she was glad to be in the back where the engine noise would surely make conversation impossible.

      “This is going to be so great,” Isabella exclaimed, ignoring the tension between her parents. “I mean, just wait until we all show up together. They are going to seriously freak.”

      “How’s work?” Tom asked Norah.

      “Fine,” she said and looked out the window as the plane slowly taxied toward the runway. She wondered if she could be capable of more than that one-word response to anything Tom might ask.

      “Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the short delay, but we should be airborne in about twenty minutes.”

      There was a ripple of muttered comments. “It’s sleeting,” Norah said.

      Tom leaned across Isabella’s lap to look out. Norah could not help but be aware of the scent of his aftershave—familiar and at the same time exotic. “From the looks of that sky we just need to get going,” he said as the plane inched forward in line. “You okay?” He glanced up at Norah and she knew that he was remembering how nervous she got when flying. She couldn’t help being touched that he had remembered.

      “Fine,” she replied and then grimaced. “I seem to have the same answer for everything, don’t I?”

      “Well, yeah,” Isabella said before Tom could answer. “You’re acting like you’re on a first date or something, Mom.”

      Tom leaned back in his seat. “And just what would you know about first dates, young lady?”

      Isabella blushed and giggled. “Oh, Dad.”

      Norah reached for her purse and pulled out a Sudoku puzzle book.

      “Mom!” Isabella protested, casting a sidelong look from the book to Tom.

      “Are you any good at those puzzles?” Tom asked, ignoring Isabella.

      Norah shrugged. “Not really, but I can usually manage the simple ones.”

      “Can I try?” Tom asked, holding out his hand for the book.

      Norah passed him the soft-covered book and held out her pencil.

      Tom pulled a pen from his pocket and grinned. “No guts, no glory,” he said and settled in to work the puzzle with Isabella’s help.

      Norah watched as he clicked the pen on and off—his hand tan against the pale cream starched cuff of his shirt. He wore dark brown casual slacks and a pullover sweater in a sort of copper shade that accented his tan and highlighted the gold flecks in his eyes. She heard his deep voice consulting with Isabella on an entry, his laughter when Isabella stopped him from making a mistake. He bent forward and ran his free hand through his hair. When a lock fell over his forehead, she literally had to tighten her grip on the armrest to resist the urge to smooth it back into place as she would have before.

      Before. When they were married. When they were—

      “Mom!”

      Norah blinked. “Sorry,” she said softly, still caught up in the fantasy of who she and Tom had once been to each other.

      “I said, can you see what’s happening? Why aren’t we moving?”

      Norah