“Keep your eyes on the road,” said his wife from the seat beside him.

Karen Jennings was thirty-nine, a year younger than her husband, but much older in some ways.

“Daddy’s watching the airplanes!” Abby chimed from her safety seat in the back. Though only five and a half years old, their daughter never hesitated to interject her comments into any conversation. Will looked at his rearview mirror and smiled at Abby. Facially, she was a miniature version of Karen, with strawberry-blond curls, piercing green eyes, and a light dusting of freckles across her nose. As he watched, she pointed at the back of her mother’s head.

Will laid his right hand on Karen’s knee. “I sure wish my girls would come along with old Dad.” With Abby present, he often referred to himself as “Dad” and Karen as “Mom,” the way his father had done. “Just jump in the plane and forget about everything for three days.”

“Can we, Mom?” cried Abby. “Can we?”

“And what do we wear for clothes?” Karen asked in a taut voice.

“I’ll buy you both new wardrobes on the coast.”

“Yaaayy!” Abby cheered. “Look, there’s the airport!”

The white control tower of the terminal had come into sight.

“We don’t have any insulin,” Karen pointed out.

“Daddy can write me a subscription!”

“Prescription, honey,” Will corrected.

“She knows the right word.”

“I want to go to the beach!”

“I can’t believe you started this again,” Karen said under her breath. “Daddy won’t be spending any time at the beach, honey. He’ll be nervous as a cat until he gives his lecture to all those other doctors. Then they’ll spend hours talking about their days in medical school. And then he’ll tear up his joints trying to play golf for three days straight.”

“If you come,” Will said, “we can beat the bushes around Ocean Springs for some undiscovered Walter Anderson stuff.”