“Take out insurance at the airport, Lawrence,” Mrs. Cole said. “Do you hear me?”
“Will that stop the plane from crashing, Mom?”
“Don’t get smart,” Mrs. Cole said. “I used to change your diapers.”
Mr. Cole laughed and said, “Leave him alone, Louise. He can take care of himself.”
“Certainly,” she said. “That’s why he’s flying in an airplane!”
“Airplanes aren’t really too bad, Louise,” Mrs. Harder said, and Linda turned to look up at her mother in surprise.
Of the two girls, even though they were identical twins, Linda was perhaps the prettier. It was difficult to realize this until you’d known the girls for some time. In the beginning, they seemed absolutely alike, and their sameness nearly drove you to distraction. Later on, you recognized the subtle differences in their faces. Lois’s face belonged to the first born and was more perfectly formed, as if it were the master mold from which both faces were cast. But there was about Linda a quality of serenity which Lois would never possess, a tranquillity which quietly contradicted her sister’s vivaciousness and actually made her prettier.
Combing Chris’s hair now, she said, “You’re very lucky, Eve. I wish I could go.”
Eve turned to her only briefly, but their eyes met in that moment, and they exchanged gentle, almost tender smiles.
“He always wanted to fly,” Mrs. Cole said. “When the war came, I thought he’d drive me crazy. He’d come home from school every day and stick that Air Corps application under my nose, begging me to sign it.”
“Did you?”
“I should say not!”
“I know a boy who’s in the Air Force,” Lois said, coming from the bedroom. “He’s a rear gunner.”
“I won’t let her date servicemen,” Mrs. Harder said.
“That’s very wise, Patricia,” Mrs. Cole said.
“I wouldn’t let Eve date them, either.”
“I was only thirteen when the war started!” Eve said.
“That’s old enough,” Mrs. Harder said. “You were very developed for your age.”
“She’s still developed,” Larry said from the suitcase. “What time is it, hon?”
“I just gave you the clock,” Eve said.
Larry started to look at the disconnected electric clock and then pulled a face. “Dad?” he asked, and both Mr. Harder and Mr. Cole looked at their watches simultaneously.
“It’s almost two,” Mr. Harder said.
The telephone in the bedroom rang. Larry turned and said, “Who’s that?” Impatiently, he strode out of the room.
“He gets very nervous,” Mrs. Cole said. “He was always like that. Peter is calm, but Lawrence is the nervous one.”
“Well, this is a big thing for him,” Mrs. Harder said.
“Do you remember when he won the prize?” Mrs. Cole asked. “I thought he would jump through the ceiling.”
“He’s a good architect,” Linda said to no one, and again Eve turned to her tenderly.
Larry came out of the bedroom, a disgusted look on his face.
“Who was it?” Eve asked.
“The airport,” Larry said. “Our flight’s been delayed. Check-in time is now four-fifteen.”
“Delayed?” Mrs. Cole asked quickly. “Why?”
“Some mechanical difficulties,” Larry said.
“Oh, my God! I knew it!”
“Now, Louise, Louise...”
“Mom,” Larry said, exasperated, “we’re flying and that’s that!” He turned to Eve. Gently, he said, “Honey, can you make some coffee or something?”
“I’ll do it,” Linda said, rising from her cross-legged position on the rug.
“Where’s my watch?” Larry asked.
“On the dresser. Your watch, wallet and keys are all laid out.”
“The traveler’s checks?”
“Those too.”
“And the checkbook?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll take a hundred in cash in my wallet, honey,” Larry said, “and I’ll pack the checkbook and traveler’s checks in the suitcase that locks. Okay?”
“Fine,” Eve said absently. “Linda, honey, the coffee is in the cabinet over the stove. The instant.”
“I see it, Eve,” Linda called from the kitchen.
“Is that what you’re wearing on the plane?” Lois asked, studying Eve’s simply tailored skirt and blouse.
“Yes. With the jacket to it. Why?”
“Nothing,” Lois said. She paused. “Haven’t you got anything dressier?”
“Darling,” Mrs. Harder said, “your sister doesn’t need any advice on how to dress.”
“I just thought for a plane ride, something dressier might—”
“Perhaps you’d like to lend her one of your shrunken sweaters.”
“Mama,” Lois said flatly, “have you ever seen yourself in that red cocktail dress?”
“What?”
“You’re half naked in it,” Lois said. “I’d be ashamed to—”
“Now that’s enough of that, young lady,” Mr. Harder said firmly.
“You’re lucky you never had girls, Louise,” Mrs. Harder said.
“Boys are no picnic,” Mrs. Cole said.
Eve very softly, said, “I’d like a little girl.”
Packing his suitcase beside her, Larry whispered, “I’ll see if that can be arranged,” and Eve chuckled quietly.
“Does everybody want coffee?” Linda asked from the kitchen.
“I don’t want you girls drinking coffee,” Mrs. Harder said. “Eve, darling, don’t you have any milk?”
“Of course we’ve got milk,” Eve said, annoyed by the negative assumption.
“Some milk for you and Lois, darling,” Mrs. Harder called to the kitchen.
“You’d better give the children something, too,” Mrs. Cole said. “God knows what time they’ll be eating tonight.”
Mrs. Harder took Eve aside and whispered, “Did you pack everything?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“I mean, did you pack everything, darling?”
“I packed everything.”
“Everything? Do you know what I mean?”
“Mama,” Eve said patiently, “everything.”
“All right,” Mrs. Harder said, nodding. And then, unwilling to let it go, she added, “You know what I mean, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mama. I packed the damn—”
“Coffee!” Linda shouted from the kitchen.
At the airport, David burst into tears when Eve kissed him, and Chris shouted, “I want to kiss Daddy, too. I want to kiss Daddy.” Larry pulled Eve through the loading gate as the uniformed attendant stretched out his arm to hold back the well-wishers waiting for the plane’s departure. He bent down and kissed his son under the man’s outstretched blue sleeve, and then he stood up and shouted “So long! We’ll see you in a week!” and together he and Eve ran across the field, the wash from the airplane’s propellers lashing at the coats they wore, up the ramp and into the plane where a smiling hostess greeted them. There was the sudden smell of human beings, the muted hum of the engines inside the ship, the long walk down the center aisle, squeezing into their seats past a little Puerto Rican man who held a guitar on his lap. There were the lighted signs at the front of the airplane, “No Smoking” and “Fasten Your Seat Belts,” and then there was the sudden angry roar of the engines, and Eve leaning over him to wave out of the curtained window, and then the plane taxiing across the field, gathering speed, the buildings rushing past in a blinding whitish-gray blur, the plane trembling with the power of its engines, and the little Puerto Rican man praying quietly in Spanish.