Look Closely - Laura Caldwell [69]
Annie smiled up at me, then crooked a finger, gesturing for me to bend down. I did so, and Annie whispered in my ear, “He went to Orleans.”
“What?” I said.
“He went to Orleans,” she repeated in a louder whisper.
“New Orleans?”
She nodded.
17
I got lost trying to find my way out of Santa Fe, my head too full of information, senses, images, like Annie’s light breath in my ear, Dan’s adult face in the pages of the album, his call to Annie from New Orleans. I wished I could fly there right now. But where would I look? Who would I talk to? Plus, I’d packed only a small bag with a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and more importantly, hadn’t done any work on the McKnight case. The other problem was that my return flight wasn’t until tomorrow afternoon, and I was scheduled to fly out of Albuquerque, since I had planned on going to Dan’s house tomorrow. But maybe I could switch and get a flight home tonight or tomorrow morning.
I called the airline from my cell phone, while driving in circles around Santa Fe, continually winding up, again and again, on a street called Paseo.
“No available direct flights out of Santa Fe to New York until tomorrow night,” said the agent.
“How about to New Orleans?” I said.
A pause, the sound of fingers on a keyboard. “Not unless you want to pay a thousand dollars. You’re better off just driving to Albuquerque and getting the flight that you’re booked on tomorrow.”
The night sky was totally black now, and I strained to read the street signs. Finally, I pulled over at a convenience store and got directions to the hotel I had found on the Internet and reserved for that night. It was located roughly between Santa Fe and Albuquerque, about an hour away. I would still get to see Dan’s house tomorrow, on Saturday, and get back to New York by tomorrow afternoon. Sunday, I would work, and Monday, I needed to meet with Beth Halverson at McKnight Corporation in Chicago. And maybe New Orleans from there?
As I drove away from the city, I was struck by a feeling of immense space. A few lights twinkled in the distance, occasionally illuminating the side of a mountain face, but otherwise it was sheer black. The desert stretched out all around me.
The Tamaya Hotel & Spa was a large property set in the middle of nowhere. I drove under a long portico and gave the rental car to the valet. At the front desk, a cheerful hotel employee had me checked into a club-level room in a matter of seconds. After the time spent with Annie, the thought of another impersonal hotel room left me feeling bereft. I asked the desk clerk to have my bag sent up to the room and got directions to the bar.
I ordered a Baileys and decaf and took my mug and purse to the limestone patio outside, where two adobe fireplaces stood on either end, deep chairs in front of them. One set of chairs was occupied by a couple who were kissing and laughing softly, a bucket of champagne in front of them. I felt a flash of envy. It had been so long since I’d been part of a couple like that. I still went on dates here and there. Maddy sometimes set me up with friends of the guys she was dating, but they were usually much older than I, and although Maddy enjoyed that age difference, I never really connected with any of them. Occasionally, I met men when I was out. Sometimes I dated attorneys I knew from my cases. But for the last few years, I had simply been more interested in my career than my love life. Now, though, with this search into my family, with the separation I felt from my father, I wished I had a boyfriend or some family member who knew all about me, who would understand what I was doing, who would help me if I wanted, who would only listen if I wanted that, too.
I swear, as I sat there, craving companionship, craving family, I could almost feel the warmth of Annie’s hand in mine. My niece, my niece, I kept saying in my head. Family. And yet, when would I see her again? Would I ever see her again?
I sat in the low leather chair in front of the other fireplace and took a sip of