Page 138 of Wife After Wife
Anki
The 747 was on its approach to Heathrow, and Anki peered out the window to see the Thames snaking through London, glinting in the early-morning sunlight. She spotted the Houses of Parliament and the London Eye, which Harry had promised to take her on, and there was Windsor Castle! Her dream was about to become reality. Her heart was racing, and her stomach was tied in knots.
She checked her appearance in her hand mirror again. Gee, it was hard to look good after an overnight flight, even if you had been mysteriously upgraded to first class. Her careful blow-dry had lost its bounce and now hung limply around her face, still pale after the long Ohio winter. She pinched her cheeks. Her eyes, dry from the air-conditioning, were sore and a little red.
She tucked her hair behind her ears, then untucked it again. Tried to fluff it out a bit.
Within minutes they were taxiing on the tarmac at Heathrow, then they halted and the seat belt sign went off with aping.
London! She was here.
As she lined up at immigration, her earlier butterflies gave way to sheer panic. What was she doing here? This was crazy. Meeting a man she’d befriended online, hoping their relationship would smoothly transition from virtual to real. Could you ever really know someone without meeting them in the flesh? Harry felt so real to her. He was funny, well mannered, knew so much about everything. He must have traveled a lot; had to be well educated too. Unlike her. Anki the Untraveled. Anki the Badly Educated. In her mind, Harry was somewhere between the avatar she knew—tall, slim, golden-haired—and Hugh Grant. He was going to be horribly disappointed with her.
She wished she’d chosen an avatar closer to her real-life appearance. Harry might be expecting a Scandinavian goddess to sweep through the arrivals doors, whereas she had no waist and no ankles, and her arms alwayslet her down when she went sleeveless. Her hair was more mouse than blond, and she was way older than she’d been in the Disneyland photo.
Maybe she should turn around and catch the next flight home.
“Purpose of visit?”
“Um, vacation. My first time in your wonderful country. I’m so excited!”
The guy didn’t even look at her as he handed her passport back.
She carried on to the baggage claim and was soon wheeling her suitcase through to the arrivals area, where hundreds of pairs of eyes scanned her as she proceeded between the barriers.
Harry had told her to look out for a sign with her name on it. And there it was:Anki from Cleveland.
Holding it was a tall, broad, bearded man with red-blond hair and piercing blue eyes, which hadn’t yet met hers. He was older and heavier than in his photo. Although extremely handsome, he looked a little intimidating, and she wondered whether to pretend she hadn’t seen him and walk on by.
Too late. His eyes met hers, and as they did, she saw his disappointment. She was mortified. But after the split-second assessment, he smiled and held out a hand. “Anki?”
“Harry!”
His face was transformed by the smile. And there it was, the glint of mischief she’d known would be there.
“Well, this is strange but fun, wouldn’t you say? Welcome to London!”
And there was Harry’s online voice, come to life!
“Yes, this is awesomely exciting, Harry! Wow, I’m actually here!”
“Allow me to whisk you away from the hellhole that is Heathrow. Your carriage awaits, as we like to say to our lady visitors.”
The “carriage” was a luxurious chauffeur-driven sedan, and on the drive into London, Harry kept up an entertaining patter about Britain, past and present. He was extremely charming and had a lovely voice—oh, that accent!
They drove past some of the sights—Buckingham Palace, the Housesof Parliament and Trafalgar Square—before pulling up outside an expensive-looking hotel.
A liveried doorman helped her out, and she gazed around her, feeling horribly out of place. The Holiday Inn had been intended as a big treat to herself, but this?
“Harry, I can’t afford this!” she hissed.
“It’s on me,” he said. “And no strings, by the way. Just a thank-you for being there for me in the evenings. My life’s been a tad difficult recently, and you’ve helped me with that. You deserve a treat.”
She didn’t know what to say.
“Mr. Rose, welcome again, sir,” said the receptionist. “The porter will show you to your suite.”
“Anki, I’m going to pop home now. I thought you might prefer to rest, shower, and all those things. How about I meet you in the bar at six, then we can have dinner, take a walk to see the bright lights?”
