And just like that, we took a new plan.
The next few days were magic
We had pancakes every morning. Dinosaur-shaped for Ava, chocolate chip for me. We visited the aquarium and stood silently in front of the jellyfish tank, her little hand curled into mine.
We were happy.
That’s what Darlene never understood.
I didn’t tell Nolan right away. I let him think we’d made it. Let him breathe.
But when he finally texted us from his work trip… something altered.
“How was the flight, love? Did Ava love it?! Send pics of Ava’s first time on a plane! Love you. Both.”
I sent back a selfie of Ava and me in fluffy matching robes, faces covered in sparkly sticker stars.
“Didn’t make it, Nolan. Ask your mom why. We miss you.”
The phone rang five minutes later.
“What happened?” he questioned.
I told him everything. The open window. The ticket. The smile.
Silence.
“She did this on purpose,” he said eventually.
“I’m so sorry, Willa. I’m booking a return flight—”
“Nolan, no,” I breathed in slowly. “Let her have her trip. Ava and I already got what we needed.”
He didn’t like it. But he understood.
“We’ll do our own trip,” he said. “Just us… I promise.”
But karma wasn’t finished with her yet.
Two days after their flight, Jolene called me, breathless.
“You will not believe this,” she said. “Mom… fell.”
She launched into it like she couldn’t say it fast enough. Darlene had been strutting through a local artisan market, silk scarf around her neck, oversized sunglasses perched on her head, when she stepped on a wet tile outside a spice shop.
They hadn’t even made it to the Canary Islands yet, all of this had occured during a layover.
Her passport? Gone.
It had disappeared somewhere between the market and the hospital. Stolen? Dropped? Nobody knew. No passport meant no flight home. Embassy visits, frantic forms, signature verifications.
As for Darlene’s luggage? Rerouted to Lisbon.
When I told Nolan, he sighed.
“Wait… so how’s she getting home?” he asked.
“She’s not,” I said, stirring my coffee. “Not for a while.”
He didn’t laugh, but his lips twitched on the video call.
“Seriously?”
“She’s at the mercy of government paperwork and bad continental plumbing.”
“Wow,” he said, leaning back in his chair.
“I’ll be home tomorrow,” he smiled. “We can take Ava to the carnival. Rob’s wife said that she’s taking their kids, too.”
Three weeks later, when the front door creaked open without a knock, we were halfway through brunch — pancakes, eggs, real maple syrup, the works.
Darlene walked in like she still owned air rights to our house.
“Smells… cozy,” Darlene said.
I didn’t say a word. I just moved my coffee cup closer to Ava, who was happily dunking strawberries into whipped cream.
