Lady Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet No. 22 Read Online Free Page B

had. I went straight to the airport even though my plane wouldn't leave until nine that evening. Like the fliers, I didn't take much. I went dressed in my old T-shirt and exercise pants but I did have to take a little bag with my wallet and my passport. When I got to the airport there were dozens of people who had dropped everything to go to France. Most of them were having trouble getting tickets and some of them were making elaborate arrangements that would take them to Germany or Ireland or even to Italy before they could get to France. I had been lucky that my compulsion was not so strong that I couldn't stop and get on Priceline.
    I went back to the gate, which was in a special part of the airport for Internationals, where the floor wasn't carpet, just tile. The Duty Free shop was open. Such a nice phrase, “Duty Free.” Actually, I kind of like having a duty, though. In the end, I couldn't go empty handed the way the fliers had. I had packed a shirt, a pair of jeans and underwear in a little bag I used for yoga. I had packed a towel, too, because it was always in the bag anyway, along with my shampoo and deodorant in case I had to meet a client after yoga class.
    A guy named Brian who had a boat and who had been out on the water that morning with the fliers said that going to Ireland wouldn't be so bad. It was at least on the way. Lindbergh had stopped at Ireland on his way to France, hadn't he?
    I didn't think he had, but one of the reasons I had started taking yoga was to be less self centered which in my case meant less of a know it all and even though most of the time I still corrected people and pontificated and even in yoga class still wanted the teacher to notice how good I was doing, I didn't say anything this time.
    Brian didn't have any luggage or any carry-on which had caused him a lot of trouble at the airport because not having luggage is a sign that you might be a terrorist. I'd had to surrender my deodorant and shampoo because they were more than 3 ozs. But Brian had been searched and interviewed. There were so many people there who wanted to go to France that someone finally realized that it was not a plot but something else. Brian said one of the TSA guys was trying to go to France, and he explained it, although how it could be explained I don't know.
    I'm sure there were people there who were flying to France for other reasons, like vacations or work, but most of us were just Going to France. We sat around without the usual airport feeling because it didn't matter what time we left or got there, about luggage and reservations or connections or schedules. It's amazing how nice an airport is when you're not worried.
    It's true that we are free to do whatever we want, even go to France on a whim. We can make any choice we want. We can do anything we want. We just have to not care about consequences.
    I didn't care about consequences, but at about seven, I knew I wasn't going to France. I didn't say anything to anyone, not even Brian, who I knew was going. I could tell that several other people weren't going. We just weren't. We didn't have the Going to France look anymore. I stopped at the ticket counter on my way out and explained to them that I wasn't going and that I didn't have any luggage so they wouldn't think since I didn't get on the plane there was some terrorist threat. I didn't want the people like Brian to be delayed. I canceled my ticket, even though it was nonrefundable. Maybe someone else could go. I got in my car and went home.
    It wasn't that I couldn't go to France, it was just that I wasn't. Maybe it had worn off. Maybe I had caught a mild case from the fliers but it hadn't lasted. I didn't know. I felt kind of sad. When I got home I didn't want to go in my house.
    I left my bag in my car and started walking to my mother's house. My mother lived in the same house she had since I was ten, a little brick ranch. It was a couple of miles away and I had never walked there before because I