Gillian whistled as she stood in the doorway of the waiting room. “Wow, this is slick for a low-cost airline. I wish my family room looked like this.”
Along one wall a sleek brown leather couch slung low next to a tall lamp with a dark-green-and-gold-leaf shade. A large mahogany coffee table commanded the room, and on it sat a huge glass bowl overflowing with fresh fruit. Next to it was a crystal decanter of red wine along with two long-stemmed balloon glasses.
A large flat-screen television covered one wall. The voices coming from it were but a murmur, but it had to be a soap opera, with the earnest glances, overreactions, and perfect teeth.
The Baggage Handler followed her, wheeling his baggage cart. On it was the suitcase Gillian had brought back. “Why do you wish your family room looked like this? It’s empty.”
The leather sofa gave an extravagant sigh as Gillian sank into it. “Empty? This place is perfect. My place is a mess compared to this.”
“Mmm.” The Baggage Handler nodded as he studied her.
Two huge posters adorned one wall. A tiny, forlorn puppy eyed a bone outside the kennel he moped in. Huge letters gave him an idea of how to fix his problem: Stop wishing. Start doing. The poster next to it showed a stunning sunflower in a field of green at dawn, dewdrops dotting its face like morning tears. Gillian read the caption aloud: “‘All flowers are beautiful in their own way, and that’s like women too. Miranda Kerr.’”
There was no denying the sunflower was beautiful, standing at attention and dressed in elegant bright yellow, its tearstained face dried by the morning sun.
“That’s a lovely thought.” Gillian gestured at the poster.
“I agree. We like to carry the right messages in our business.” He studied Gillian again. “Do you believe it?”
Gillian didn’t know how to answer that question. Next to the sunflower stood a full-length mirror, also framed in rich mahogany. Why would an airline waiting room have a mirror like that? She caught a glimpse of herself on the sofa and whipped her head away, a knee-jerk reflex. She didn’t need to be reminded of her flaws. They were tattooed on her soul.
The young man stepped forward. “I’ve got some paperwork for you, and then we can sort out your baggage.” He stopped short. “Are you okay?”
Gillian folded her arms. “I guess so. Why?”
“It’s just that you look upset.” Gillian shifted over on the sofa as the Baggage Handler sat down next to her. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but the look on your face just now was one of incredible sadness.”
Gillian shook her head. “It’s no different to how I look every day.”
The Baggage Handler cocked his head and fixed a gaze on her with clouded blue eyes, a look approaching wistfulness. “It’s just that I meet lots of people, and I try to help where I can. Can I do anything for you?”
Gillian warmed with his sad concern. This young man had peeked beneath the curtain she put up to keep out the world. “Apart from getting my suitcase, no, but I appreciate you asking.”
“No problem. You let me know if you need any help.” The Baggage Handler checked his clipboard. “Oh, I see. There appears to have been some identical baggage on your flight. I apologize for any inconvenience. If you’ll sign this form, we can help.”
Gillian reached for the clipboard. “Great. My sister is out front waiting, and I’ve been here for five minutes already.” She skimmed the form. “What’s this?”
“Read it.”
“‘I promise to deal with my baggage before I leave this facility.’ What an odd form.”
“It’s just something we need to cover for people to deal with their baggage.”
“Deal with?”
The Baggage Handler offered a broad smile to go with his cheeky wink. “Yes, deal with.”
“What an odd choice of words. Don’t you usually collect your baggage?”
“Yes, people usually collect their baggage, but they’d be better off if they dealt with it. ‘Deal with’ is exactly what we mean.”
There was a beat, a pause in the universe, as that statement settled onto Gillian. It lodged there like an imprint on a sofa. “Well, if you say so. They are just words.”
The Baggage Handler shook his head, and his voice took on a passionate edge. “Words have far more power than that.” He smiled and pointed to the bottom of the form. “Just there, please.”
Gillian signed her name. “Okay, it seems straightforward.”
“Thanks very much.” The Baggage Handler took back the clipboard and pointed to the suitcase. “Yours looks like this one, but it doesn’t have the red embossed leather baggage tags on it.”
“No, it doesn’t.” The memory of Becky grabbing a black suitcase and charging past, leaving her behind on her own trip replayed in her mind. Her shoulders slumped. “My sister grabbed it from the carousel. I wish I’d grabbed my suitcase myself.”
The Baggage Handler cocked his head. “Stop wishing. Start doing.”
Gillian jolted upright. “Excuse me?”
He gestured to the puppy poster on the wall. “Up there. It sounds like good advice.”
Gillian looked sideways at this strange young man as she connected the dots. “You were at the airport, weren’t you? In the baggage claim area with a cart?”
The Baggage Handler tipped his cap. “Of course. I was helping people with their baggage.”
“You work here as well?”
“I go wherever I’m needed.” His cell phone buzzed. “I’ll just get your baggage, and then I can help you. Anyway, be back in a minute. Help yourself.”
He wheeled the cart out the door, leaving Gillian sitting alone in a perfect waiting room with the perfect fruit bowl on a rich mahogany coffee table and a perfect life playing out on the soap opera on the TV on the wall.
She cast one eye at the puppy poster and sank back into the sofa. This time more than the sofa sighed.