08 The Christmas Train by David Baldacci

Author:David Baldacci [Baldacci, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

chapter eighteen

Chicago’s Union Station symbolized the prodigious dimensions of the city it inhabited: It was big and brawny, with multiple levels, car-rental counters, food and other retail outlets, and long golf carts whizzing passengers around. They headed to the Metropolitan Lounge, found an empty area, and spread out. Tom sat comatose while Kristobal made numerous phone calls, and Max met with Steve and Julie and various other people in the lounge going over last-minute arrangements for the wedding. Eleanor wasn’t there, and Max finally sent Kristobal looking for her.

Amtrak police came, led by Regina, and they all filed their theft reports. They were told that many passengers had discovered items missing and that a search for the thief or thieves was ongoing. The police thought it likely that more than one person was involved because of the number of items taken and the passengers targeted. In all probability, they were informed, the gang had gotten off the train before Chicago. Tom held out little hope that he’d ever see his pen again. Much more significantly, he held out little hope of seeing Eleanor again.

He was therefore very surprised to see her walk into the lounge with Kristobal about an hour later. She slumped next to Max.

“When’s your flight leave?” he asked.

“It doesn’t. Everything’s booked solid. Ironically, the fastest way to LA right now is by train.”

Max sat back and rested his eyes, although his lips almost twitched into a smile. “Sorry to hear that. Guess you’ll just have to slum it with us rail bums.” He opened his eyes and winked at Tom.

“Looks that way,” said a scowling Eleanor.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been banned from flying in the United States,” said Tom. Kristobal gave him an odd look and drew back some. Tom explained quickly, “It was all a little misunderstanding at the security gate at La Guardia.”

“No,” said Eleanor, “that really doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Regina returned a few minutes later. Tom knew the woman she came back with had to be her mother, although the two didn’t look a thing alike, except in the eyes. If it was possible, the woman made Agnes Joe look girlishly petite. Tom had visions of Aretha Franklin, only bigger. As it turned out, the wattage of the woman’s personality was far greater than even her vast physical dimensions.

“This is my mother, Roxanne,” said Regina, before Roxanne took over the show in a booming voice that made heads turn all over the cavernous Metropolitan Lounge.

“I understand you babies are cold, tired, depressed, and ROBBED! Umm-umm. Now, we can’t have that. The good Lord won’t hold sway for long over that sorry state of affairs.” A few minutes later, blankets, pillows, snacks, and other sundry items appeared. It was much appreciated by them all, and even Eleanor appeared to be in better spirits.

Roxanne settled down in their midst as though a queen with her fawning constituency. “Lord, what a day already. I’m waiting on some important passengers coming in from New York.

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