Page 8 of The Suitcase Swap

This, however, was perfect for her needs. It felt like a good omen, like New York was welcoming her. The apartment owner obviously loved a bright palette – the walls were aqua blue, with hanging plants and vibrant art hung here and there. The loveseat was orange, the ottoman pink and the ceiling a bright yellow. A small red table with two chairs sat next to the kitchenette. It felt a bit like being inside a parrot.

The bedroom wasn’t large, containing only the bed, a bedside table, and a small chest of drawers wedged into the cupboard. The owner was clearly also big on textures, because there was a faux fur throw across the mattress.

Marisa sidled up next to her, nudging her with her elbow. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think it’s one mirrored coffee table and a line of cocaine away from the 1970s,’ Sophie said honestly. ‘And I love it.’

Marisa didn’t quite laugh, but shedidsmile a little, which was something. ‘Good to hear it.’

Tom wheeled the suitcase in behind her, along with a bag of groceries they’d picked up on their way in from the corner store, which Marisa had referred to as a ‘bodega’. ‘Only one suitcase, Mum. I’m impressed.’

Sophie plucked the bag of groceries from him and set them on the counter. ‘Oh, I don’t need much. I have my laptop, so I can work. My e-reader. I can wash my clothes, so I didn’t need to bring my entire wardrobe or anything.’

‘Here,’ Marisa said, stepping forward, ‘let me put away the groceries. You settle in.’

Sophie followed Tom into the bedroom, letting him heft her single piece of luggage onto the bed. She didn’t want to open it in front of him – there were a few things in there she didn’t particularly want her son to see, even if he was an adult himself. But he didn’t linger, instead stepping in and checking out the cupboard-sized bathroom.

She took the opportunity to pop open her bag, hoping to sneak her toy into her make-up bag, only . . .

Only to find an array of clothing, mostly in dark colours, that was definitely not hers. She didn’t own blue trainers. Despite her shock, she took a moment to admire the organization at work. Everything was neat, tidy, folded. The boxers were in perfect rolls, lined up like a pack of sausages.

Tom peered over her shoulder. ‘What’s this?’

She splayed her hands out helplessly. ‘Not mine?’

Tom nudged her out of the way and started rifling through the clothes, being careful to keep things folded at least.

‘What are you doing? Those aren’t yours!’ The last word, she was sure, came out in the decibel range only some really precocious dogs could hear. ‘Stop it!’

‘Why?’ Tim moved on to the other half of the bag. ‘We need to find out whose bag this is, don’t we?’

‘That’s what the luggage tag is for!’ She pointed at the small plastic rendition ofStarry Nightresting at the top. ‘How would you feel if this were your luggage?’

Tom only shrugged. ‘Life is short, find joy where you can.’ He straightened, putting his hands on his hips. ‘Absolutely nothing interesting. Congratulations, Mum. You got the luggage of the most boring man in England. No condoms, no pills, not even a smuggled marmoset.’

She frowned at him. ‘I’m a little jet lagged, so forgive me if I’m being obtuse, but why would anyone be smuggling marmosets out of England?’

‘Why do people do anything?’ He tucked the clothes back into place and zipped up the case, finally turning the tag over. ‘I guess you can ask Michael Tremblay when you phone him.’

Sophie gave him a bewildered look. ‘You want me to ask him why he doesn’t smuggle tiny monkeys in his bags?’

‘No, ask him why he’s so boring.’ Tom crossed his arms with a huff. ‘Next time I travel, I’m going to put something inexplicable in my luggage, just in case this happens. Like a roll of duct tape and a single can of sardines. Anything to avoid the possibility that someone would open my luggage and go, “Bit boring, innit?” ’

‘That’s a little judgemental,’ she said. ‘Besides, you have no idea if this luggage is indicative of him as a person. The luggage might be a clever ruse. Maybe he’s just good at his job and whatever he’s smuggling is on his person, or in a hidden compartment.’ She clutched her son’s arm. ‘Donotgo looking for a hidden compartment.’

He smiled at her, amused. ‘You never let me have any fun.’

Marisa poked her head into the room. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Mum got the luggage of the most boring man in England,’ Tom said.

‘Oh,’ Marisa said. ‘That’s too bad. It would have been a lot more fun if he’d had something cool in there. Like fetish gear or a puppet.’

‘I suggested duct tape and a can of sardines, which now feels like amateur hour compared to your idea.’ Tom eyed his fiancée speculatively. ‘I’m not sure if I should be impressed by how quickly you came up with them or disturbed by your pairing.’

She sniffed, tilting her nose in the air. ‘Impressed.’

Tom put his arms around her and kissed her forehead. ‘I’m always impressed by you.’

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