My father bet $20 I'd arrive alone tonight. Then don't arrive alone. And you are the reason she won $20. Laura Bennett had checked her father's message four times before the plane began descending toward Richmond. $20 says you walk through my door alone tonight.
The man beside her glanced at the screen, then at her face. Is $20 important? No, winning is. He noticed the old wedding ring turning slowly on her right hand. What time do you have to be there before 9?
He checked his watch. Then you still have time. Laura frowned. For what? He smiled just slightly.
Not to arrive alone. The plane touched down 27 minutes late, which Laura considered proof that even the airline had joined her father's side. By the time she reached baggage claim, she had almost convinced herself the man from 14B had been joking. Then Daniel appeared beside carousel 6, rolling a small black suitcase with one hand and carrying a narrow wooden box under the other arm. So he said, "What exactly did your father bet?"
Laura looked at him. You're still on this. I dislike unfinished negotiations. There was no negotiation. You said winning mattered.
"That was before landing. Does landing alter the rules? It improves my judgment." Daniel nodded. Then I arrived just in time.
Laura tried not to smile. Her suitcase had not appeared yet. Daniels had, which seemed unfair. My father has a system, she said. That sentence already worries me.
He makes $20 bets when he wants to say something without actually saying it. Daniel leaned against the railing. For example, he doesn't say, "Laura, you've been hiding from everyone." What does he say? $20 says you'll come alone.
Daniel considered this. Your father sounds exhausting. He considers that a personality. The carousel groaned. A red suitcase went by for the third time.
Daniel glanced at her right hand. She had started twisting the old wedding ring again without noticing. He did not ask about it. Instead, he said, "What happens if you walk through the door with someone? He loses $20."
Tragic. He'll survive and you win. I win $20. You said the money wasn't important. It isn't.
So, this is principal. It's Bennett family warfare. Daniel nodded as though that clarified everything. Her suitcase finally appeared. Laura reached for it, missed the handle, and nearly chased it around the corner.
Daniel caught it first. I had that. I noticed. She took the bag from him. As she did, a silver coin slipped from her coat pocket and struck the floor.
Daniel bent down before she could. It was an old Kennedy half-dollar, its edges worn smooth. He held it out. You carry emergency currency? Laura took it quickly.
Something like that. He watched her roll it once across her fingers before putting it back. No question. She appreciated that more than she wanted to. They walked toward the rental car counters.
Daniel shifted the wooden box carefully against his side. Laura looked at it. What's in there? He looked down at the box. Something that should have been returned years ago.
That stopped her. To who? He kept walking. You asked what was inside. That is an irritating distinction.
I've been told. They reached the escalator. Daniel said, "My offer still stands." Laura almost laughed. You cannot seriously be offering to come to my father's house.