Page 62 of Finding Home

“Possibly.” She looked at the terminal entrance. “Probably not.”

Cole got out of the truck and came around to her side. She was already standing with the phone tucked into her coat pocket. He didn’t offer Julie his arm. She wouldn’t appreciate it. He fell into step beside her instead, and she adjusted her stride slightly without looking at him.

They walked in through the automatic doors.

The arrivals hall was neither large nor busy. A few people stood near the barrier. A man was holding a sign with a company name printed on it, a woman had a toddler on her hip who kept leaning sideways to look at the ceiling. There was a small coffee counter on the left side, and Cole steered Julie toward it without asking.

“Flat white?” he asked.

Julie looked at him. “Thank you.”

He ordered two and stood to one side while they were made. From where he was standing, he could see the gate doors and most of the arrivals hall. Julie had positioned herself near the barrier, her coat open, her eyes on the door.

Cole studied her. She was composed. That was the word. She had the stillness she always had in public, the quality that made her seem at ease even when she wasn’t entirely. But her hands were in her coat pockets, and he noticed she’d checked the time on her phone twice in ninety seconds.

He picked up both coffees and went to stand beside her.

She took the cup without looking away from the door. “Thank you,” she said again.

“You said that already.”

“It bears repeating.”

Cole sipped his coffee while he looked at the arrivals gate. It was quiet. A couple came through with heavy bags and no sign of anyone meeting them. A man with a carry-on strode past with the focus of someone who’d already arranged their onward transport and wasn’t stopping.

Then the doors opened again and a woman came through who could only have been Meg.

She had Julie’s height and hair that was a vibrant shade of red. Where Julie moved as if she’d already assessed the room and found it manageable, Meg moved as if she intended to get somewhere specific and anything in her path would simply have to move. She had a backpack over one shoulder and a rolling case that she steered with one finger, barely looking at it.

Her eyes found her mom’s in about two seconds flat.

“Mom.” She came through the barrier and hugged Julie in the kind of way that left no room for uncertainty. Her arms around Julie’s shoulders, her chin dropping as they pulled each other close. Julie’s hand came up and pressed against her daughter’s back.

Cole stepped aside to give them room.

Meg pulled back and looked at her mother’s face, the way people did when they were checking for something they couldn’t quite name. Then she turned to Cole.

He held out his hand. “Cole Morrison.”

Meg’s grip was firm and brief, and she held his eyes for longer than was strictly necessary. It wasn’t hostile. It was something more like information-gathering.

“I’m Meg. It’s good to meet you. Mom talks about you.”

“Just the good stuff, I hope.”

Meg smiled, which changed her face completely. “Mostly.”

Julie looked at her daughter. “Only mostly?”

“I’m kidding.” Meg looked at Cole again. “She talks about you a lot, actually.”

Cole looked at Julie, who was looking at the gate doors.

“Daniel should be through soon,” she said.

He came through eleven minutes later, which was faster than anyone thought. He had a child’s backpack over one shoulder. It was purple, with a small bear clipped to the zip. One hand pulled a suitcase while the other held the hand of a toddler. Behind him, a few steps back, a woman with a dark braid and a carry-on navigated the doors.

The little girl saw Julie and pulled free of Daniel’s hand.