Dead Man Docking - Mary Daheim [14]
It wasn’t until almost half an hour had passed that Judith noticed Renie humming to herself and sliding around in her chair.
“You haven’t finished your coffee,” Judith pointed out as Renie took another sip.
“Sure have,” Renie replied happily.
Judith peered into the paper cup and sniffed. “That’s booze!” she snarled at her wayward cousin. “You put booze in your coffee!”
Renie tapped the train case at her side. “Backup,” she murmured. “For spoilsports like you and Bill. Hmm-mmhmm…”
Judith surrendered. “You’ll be sorry. You’ll be sick on the flight.”
“So? I won’t care,” Renie replied.
“It’s illegal to bring liquor aboard a plane,” Judith pointed out.
“I’ll finish it before we board,” Renie countered. “Then I’ll buy more when the beverage cart comes by.”
“No, you won’t.” Judith reached down and snatched Renie’s wallet out of her big black purse.
“Hey!” Renie cried. “Put that back!”
“No.” Judith put the wallet in her own handbag and zipped it shut. “If you don’t stop being a jackass, I’m going to turn in my ticket and go home. I mean it. This is no way to start a vacation.”
Renie focused her eyes and stared at her cousin. “You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
Renie continued staring at Judith. Finally she sighed. “Okay. I’ll be good. But I’ll be terrified.”
“So will I,” Judith said.
“I wonder how Bill and Joe will like being widowers.”
“Shut up.”
“Maybe we should take out that insurance they sell to passengers.”
“Shut up.”
“Maybe I should buy more gum. My ears really pop, especially on landing. If we land.”
“Shut up.”
At last, Renie did. She didn’t say another word until the boarding call was announced. It was Judith who broke the silence after they got on the plane and were searching for their seats.
“You have the one by the window,” Judith said. “Do you want me to sit there so you don’t have to look out?”
“I like to,” Renie replied. “Then I know where I’m crashing.”
“Fine.”
Renie sat down and immediately delved into her purse. Not more booze, Judith thought in dread. But her cousin pulled out her rosary and began to murmur prayers. She’d finished the last bead by the time they reached cruising altitude. For the rest of the flight, Renie gazed out the window in silence. She didn’t speak again until they landed on the tarmac at San Francisco.
“We made it!” she exclaimed in an awed voice.
“No kidding,” Judith replied.
“Maybe we can take the train back,” Renie suggested.
Judith, who felt like a nervous wreck, said nothing. It wasn’t the worst idea she’d ever heard. Whatever good the cruise might do her, it could be undone by another airline flight with Renie.
The rest of the itinerary went smoothly. A limo sent courtesy of Magglio Cruz transported them from the airport to the St. Francis Hotel on Union Square. Judith immediately felt the thrill of the city by the bay. She and Renie and Cousin Sue had visited San Francisco for the first time over forty years earlier. From the Barbary Coast to the Top of the Mark, they’d sensed history, mystery, sin, and sophistication. They had hills at home, but not like San Francisco’s, with handsome old houses built side by side, or views of the Golden Gate Bridge and the bay with Alcatraz Prison as its centerpiece. It was the beatnik era of Jack Kerouac and the City Lights bookstore; the Purple Onion and the Hungry i; Lenny Bruce and Mort Sahl; the Kingston Trio and North Beach; Vesuvio’s and Lefty O’Doul’s. The three cousins had lapped it up like so much spiked cream.
Now, after having visited San Francisco in the intervening years, Judith realized that she and the city had both aged. There was still beauty and glamour