Jenny sat inside the roar of the plane, concentrating on distracting herself. She was flying to Seattle in response to one of those phone calls during which the world momentarily freezes in its orbit. “I’m a friend of your father’s,” the woman had said. What was her name? Una? Mia? Something like that. Her voice gave the impression she had wonderful bone structure.
He was in the hospital. He was recovering nicely. He was asking for her. Asking to see her, after all this time.
“Recovering from what, exactly?”
