Then two kids, teenagers as best I could tell, walked up to her: ‘Happy Birthday, Mom,’ the boy said as leaned over and pecked her cheek. The girl...was older, more reserved, even a little hostile, had a kind of arms-crossed-‘yeah, whatever’-look on her face: she handed her mother a little box then looked at me. ‘Who’s he?’ the girl asked critically. ‘Hank? My son Tom, my daughter Becky…’ I stood and shook Tom’s hand, Becky turned and walked away… ‘Don’t mind her,’ Tom said. ‘She’s been crabby. We held hands as Paula drove. With every mile that passed, we became more and more excited. Every text from John only served to spur us on to our destination - and to him. And all at once, it seemed, we were there. I smiled and glanced at the hotel as Paula backed into a parking space. In minutes, we had passed through the lobby and were riding the elevator upward. In the floor to ceiling mirrors, I snuck a peek at Paula. As she straightened her skirt and fixed her hair, I was startled by the. More

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