Chapter 1A cab from the airport was preferable, but my former nanny, Bette, insisted on picking us up.
“Come on!” I paced and shivered waiting at the curb. Morocco was cooler than expected, but February 14, 2015, in New York was downright frigid.
“Want my hat, Eli?”
My father had never been so attentive.
“My gloves?”
In fact, until a few months ago, we were practically estranged.
“I just want to get on the road,” I said.
We were the last from our flight still waiting around.
“There’s my boy!”
I heard Bette before I turned and saw her rushing from an unexpected direction.
“Where’s the car?” I asked.
“I missed you so much, Eeyore.”
Bette called me Eeyore because I was moody. I could hardly complain about her tardiness, though, in the grips of a hug better than any cabbie would ha
