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“I’m terrified.”

She starts toward baggage claim, the wrong way.

“Other way,” Colt says.

She turns around without breaking stride, as though that had been the plan. That one she gets from me.

At the carousel Tova steps forward at the same time Colt does.

“I can do it.”

“I know.”

“Then let me.”

He lifts both hands and backs off. She gets her other bag off the belt herself.

“You were taking over,” I tell him.

“Same thing as helping.”

“It is not.”

“It is when I’m right.”

“That happens less often than you think.”

He does not argue, which is how I know it happens more often than I think.

Outside, Texas hits her in the face hard enough that she stops under the awning.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“It’s hot.”

“It’s seventy-eight.”

“That’s hot.”

“You just spent three weeks in Sweden.”

“Yes. Where it’s normal.”

She gets the suitcase into the back before he can reach for it.

Ruth is at the island with her bag already over her shoulder, which means she has been timing this.

“Ruth.”

Tova goes to her without asking anybody first. Ruth takes it, and then holds her out at arm’s length.

“You got brown.”

“It was Sweden.”

“Sweden has a sun.”