29.
THAT SAME DAY, THE FIFTH of November, 2017, Hobby Airport, Houston, in the waiting room of a private terminal, Will sat looking through a window at a dark expanse, red lights blinking now and then as a breeze moved shrubs that partially obscured the runway. The man at the desk said Ms. Mason’s plane was soon to land. No one else was waiting, and Will didn’t know who Ms. Mason was, only that his new client, Anna Stegineo, was on the plane and had asked him to come to the airport on a matter that she said was urgent without saying what that meant, except that she had papers for him. He didn’t mind, in any case; actually, he’d jumped at the opportunity to get out of his father’s house. Watching Eleanor try to mingle after everything she’d been through was breaking his heart.
Ten minutes
