sat next to him and eight-year-old Dustin occupied the back seat. Even though it was a three-hour drive from San Luis, she had insisted on going along. After dropping Sam off, she would hit Costco and Sam’s Club for supplies for herself and several others before returning home. The return leg of Sam’s ticket was open, and he would call her with the details as soon as he knew.
“You guys really don’t need to do this. They don’t let you go to the gate anymore, and I don’t want you driving those mountain roads after dark.” Sam looked concerned.
Sandi smiled. “Plenty of time. I know Costco and Sam’s like the back of my hand. I’ll be out of there in no time. Besides, you have over two hours before your flight leaves - we still have time to hit the Tia Vera’s in the terminal. It may be your last chance for some decent food for a while.”
Dustin piped in. “Tia Vera’s. All right!”
Sam chuckled. “Okay. Okay. You’ve convinced me.”
Tia Vera’s was a family owned restaurant as well as an Albuquerque institution. Actually, there were three stand-alone restaurants and one at the airport. They served authentic northern New Mexican cuisine. Wonderful combinations of pork and beef, corn meal, hominy, red and green chili and other spices. And sopapillas for desert - a pastry that ballooned into a puffy and crisp hollow delight when deep-fried, and was meant to be ripped open while still warm and filled with honey. It wasn’t diet food.
“Can I have one more sopapilla, Mom? Please?”
“Dustin, you’ve already had two. Don’t you think that’s enough?”
“Please?”
“One more and that’s it. I mean it this time.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Sandi reached over and placed her hand on top of Sam’s. “Sam, it’s not just you. It’s me too. I’ve been fixing myself and it’s taken a long time. I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” As Sam stood up, Sandi noticed his eyes were full.
“I need to wash this honey off my hands,” Sam continued as he bent over and briefly kissed her on the lips.
Dustin’s mouth dropped open in shock and disgust. “Ewww! That’s gross!” His comments were loud enough for several of the surroundings diners to hear, and he looked to them fully expecting unanimous agreement.
CHAPTER 8
The sun was low over the Gulf of Mexico when Sam’s flight began its descent. Now it was nearly dark. As he rocked back and forth on the tram as it traveled from his gate to the main terminal, Sam turned his cell phone back on to check on Sandi and Dustin. Then he remembered that it was two hours earlier there and not even dark yet. They were probably still on the road. In an area without cell service. He would have to remember to call later. People died every year in accidents on the switchbacks of the high mountain roads to San Luis.
As Sam left the secure portion of Tampa International Airport, a tanned young man with sun-bleached hair approached him. The surfer look contrasted starkly with the conservative suit and tie the fit looking Floridian was wearing.
“Mr. Norden?”
“Yes. I’m Sam Norden.” Sam was momentarily frightened that something really had happened to Sandi, and this man was delivering the bad news.
“Mr. Norden, your limo is waiting. If I could have the claim tickets for your luggage, I will collect your bags.”
Sam suddenly felt silly for his reaction. “You’re from A.S.S.?”
The young man smiled. “We prefer American Senior Security, or just American. But, yes sir, I am. I know that you will want to freshen up, sir. The bags will be delivered to your room as soon as possible.”
Sam dug the luggage claim check from the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to the polite young representative of his potential new employer.
“Thank you, sir. There’s your limo.” The young man pointed to shiny new black
“You guys really don’t need to do this. They don’t let you go to the gate anymore, and I don’t want you driving those mountain roads after dark.” Sam looked concerned.
Sandi smiled. “Plenty of time. I know Costco and Sam’s like the back of my hand. I’ll be out of there in no time. Besides, you have over two hours before your flight leaves - we still have time to hit the Tia Vera’s in the terminal. It may be your last chance for some decent food for a while.”
Dustin piped in. “Tia Vera’s. All right!”
Sam chuckled. “Okay. Okay. You’ve convinced me.”
Tia Vera’s was a family owned restaurant as well as an Albuquerque institution. Actually, there were three stand-alone restaurants and one at the airport. They served authentic northern New Mexican cuisine. Wonderful combinations of pork and beef, corn meal, hominy, red and green chili and other spices. And sopapillas for desert - a pastry that ballooned into a puffy and crisp hollow delight when deep-fried, and was meant to be ripped open while still warm and filled with honey. It wasn’t diet food.
“Can I have one more sopapilla, Mom? Please?”
“Dustin, you’ve already had two. Don’t you think that’s enough?”
“Please?”
“One more and that’s it. I mean it this time.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Sandi reached over and placed her hand on top of Sam’s. “Sam, it’s not just you. It’s me too. I’ve been fixing myself and it’s taken a long time. I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” As Sam stood up, Sandi noticed his eyes were full.
“I need to wash this honey off my hands,” Sam continued as he bent over and briefly kissed her on the lips.
Dustin’s mouth dropped open in shock and disgust. “Ewww! That’s gross!” His comments were loud enough for several of the surroundings diners to hear, and he looked to them fully expecting unanimous agreement.
CHAPTER 8
The sun was low over the Gulf of Mexico when Sam’s flight began its descent. Now it was nearly dark. As he rocked back and forth on the tram as it traveled from his gate to the main terminal, Sam turned his cell phone back on to check on Sandi and Dustin. Then he remembered that it was two hours earlier there and not even dark yet. They were probably still on the road. In an area without cell service. He would have to remember to call later. People died every year in accidents on the switchbacks of the high mountain roads to San Luis.
As Sam left the secure portion of Tampa International Airport, a tanned young man with sun-bleached hair approached him. The surfer look contrasted starkly with the conservative suit and tie the fit looking Floridian was wearing.
“Mr. Norden?”
“Yes. I’m Sam Norden.” Sam was momentarily frightened that something really had happened to Sandi, and this man was delivering the bad news.
“Mr. Norden, your limo is waiting. If I could have the claim tickets for your luggage, I will collect your bags.”
Sam suddenly felt silly for his reaction. “You’re from A.S.S.?”
The young man smiled. “We prefer American Senior Security, or just American. But, yes sir, I am. I know that you will want to freshen up, sir. The bags will be delivered to your room as soon as possible.”
Sam dug the luggage claim check from the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to the polite young representative of his potential new employer.
“Thank you, sir. There’s your limo.” The young man pointed to shiny new black
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