Ellie looked over.
“What happened?”
“He asked for a photograph. I said I was traveling personally and would rather not.”
“And he accepted that?”
“He asked me to sign something for his daughter instead.”
“You survived being recognized.”
“I am gathering data.”
“Do not start a file.”
“I left the legal pad at home.”
“Good.”
“I brought a notebook.”
She gave me a brief look, and I smiled.
The road narrowed as we moved away from the airport. Buildings gave way to low bridges, bright water, palm trees, and signs advertising fishing charters.
My body recognized the landscape before I was prepared for it.
This was where I had been Annie without having to explain what that meant.
It was also where I had decided I could keep being Annie for one more day.
“How was the flight?” Ellie asked.
“Uneventful. I nearly had a middle seat.”
“You did not.”
“It was visible from mine.”
“What did you actually have?”
“First row.”
“That is not adversity.”
“The overhead bin was full.”
“Did Rachel call the airline?”
“She considered buying it.”
The corner of Ellie’s mouth lifted.
Then the silence returned.
On the phone, one of us could look away, adjust the camera, or claim poor reception. Here, every pause remained in the truck with us.
“I wasn’t sure you would come,” she said.
