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His face closed up, and his body language froze her out. “I have to speak to my foreman before we leave,” he muttered. “I’ll see you at noon.”
India swallowed her disappointment. She wasn’t surprised. Not at all. Her relationship with Farris was definitely over. Neither wife nor lover would accompany him to New York. From now on, India would protect her heart.
She shoved her hands in her pockets and walked around the room, making sure she had gathered all her personal items. She wouldn’t be coming back to Wyoming. Ever.
Even if Dottie passed away here and not in New York, India didn’t think she could handle Farris and a funeral. But what if he needed her?
Too bad, she told herself firmly.
At the appointed hour, she climbed into the back seat of Farris’s car and settled in for the trip to the airport. Dottie sat up front, chattering excitedly.
Farris drove with both hands on the wheel, white-knuckled. To India, his mood seemed volatile, but that might have been an illusion. Why would he be tense or upset?
At the airport, he sprang the next surprise. “I chartered a small jet,” he said. “The storm will be affecting a lot of commercial flights. I didn’t want to take a chance of getting stuck somewhere along our itinerary.”
Dottie was delighted. “Oh, how fun,” she said. “I know it’s an indulgence, but it’s so much more peaceful. And, India,” she said, “this will be infinitely better for you. No jostling in the center aisle. You’ll be able to relax.”
India smiled and nodded, beyond words. She and Farris had flown private jets once or twice during their brief marriage. Though she had loved being pampered, the cost involved made her slightly ill. Surely, Farris remembered that.
In the small plane, four rows of seats were configured in sets of two, an aisle and a third single. Before anyone could say a word, India commandeered a solo seat, leaving Farris and his mother to sit together. She requested a pillow from the male attendant and settled down to sleep. Her unsettled night had caught up with her. Oblivion beckoned.
Later, she had no idea how long the flight had taken. She’d been comatose most of the way across the country. When she finally sat up and ran her hands through her hair, the lights of New York twinkled below.
Deplaning at LaGuardia was fast and easy. The tall young man who had worked the flight procured a luggage cart. He spoke to Farris deferentially. “The car will meet you near the taxi stand, sir. I’ve confirmed your reservation, and I’ll make sure the bags are loaded into the trunk.”
India gave the young man a smile. “I have my own rideshare coming,” she said. “That large blue suitcase and the matching carry-on are mine. I’ll get them from you as we exit the terminal, if that’s okay?”
When she turned around, both Farris and Dottie stared at her with indignation.
Farris broke the small silence. “Don’t be absurd, India. We’ll drop you off.”
She shook her head firmly. “My apartment is in the complete opposite direction. I appreciate the offer, but this makes more sense.”
For the next twenty minutes, she was able to ignore Farris in the hubbub of the airport. An attendant had shown up with a wheelchair for Dottie.
Once they were outside the building, India breathed a sigh of relief. Her escape was almost complete. “Goodbye, Dottie. I had a wonderful time with you in Wyoming. I hope your hospital gala is amazing.”
Dottie’s eyes shone with tears, but she was calm. “It was wonderful to spend time with you again, India. Let’s keep in touch.” India hugged Farris’s mother.
Then the only hurdle left was bidding her ex-husband goodbye. With her heart breaking, she managed a breezy smile. “This has been so much fun. I wish you all the best, Farris.” She went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
He tried to pull her close for a real kiss, but a wave of passengers exited the building, and she managed to elude him. “Take care,” she called over her shoulder. Then she dashed across the lanes of taxis and buses and jumped into a navy Sentra, wrestling her bags into the car with her.
The driver was a young Hispanic woman. “Where to, ma’am?”
India rattled off her address and sat back, feeling empty.
She gave herself a pep talk. These wretched feelings would pass. As soon as she got home, she would call her boss and smooth over any ruffled feathers, so she could get back to work. She would buy theater tickets and plan a dinner date with a few of her closest friends. Spring wasn’t so terribly far away. The earth would awaken from its long winter’s sleep. India looked forward to the flowers, the abundant sunshine, the promise of summer.
The Farris Quinn chapter was over. Now she could get back to her normal, enjoyable life.
Nothing had really changed. She was single and living in one of the world’s most fascinating cities. Everything was going to be good.
Four days after returning from Wyoming, India was a mess. Her very nice apartment had greeted her with stale air and a pervasive feeling of loneliness. India did laundry, and she cried. She took walks in the park and came home to cry. She cooked pasta dinners for one...and cried. The yawning emptiness inside her chest was terrifying. All she could think about was how wonderful it had been to have Farris back in her bed and in her life.
She grieved all over again.
On the fourth morning, she pulled herself together. No more moping. In a few days, she had a meeting with her boss to see if she still had a job. He had stonewalled her at first. On the plus side, she had come back to New York earlier than she had promised.
