window, Daniel slept peacefully in first class.
“Can you send the plane?”
There was a pause.
Then my father’s voice changed.
Cold. Controlled.
“Where is your husband?”
I smiled faintly.
“Still on the train.”
My father’s private jet landed in Cleveland two hours later.
By sunrise, I was home in Boston.
Daniel still had almost forty hours left on the train.
He texted when he finally woke.
WHERE ARE YOU?
Then:
THIS ISN’T FUNNY.
Then:
GET BACK ON THE TRAIN.
I replied once.
I’m home.
His call came immediately.
“You
