Fletch, Too

“May I kiss the bride, too?”

Fletch decided where he wanted to go only as he walked down the airport corridor with the muddy envelope under his arm and saw Barbara and Alston waiting outside the gate.

“Where have you been?” Barbara asked.

“Where did you go?” Fletch asked.

“Where did you go?”

“I didn’t know where you went.”

Alston rolled up his eyes.

“Have Cindy and her friend gone?” Fletch asked.

Barbara said, “They’ve gone.”

“Where’s our luggage?” Fletch asked.

Barbara said, “It’s gone.”

“I checked it in this morning,” Alston said. “So you wouldn’t have to be bothered with it at this point.”

“It’s gone?”

“It’s gone.”

“We need to get it back.”

“Oh, no,” Alston said. “It’s gone.”

“The plane’s about to go,” Barbara said.

“It hasn’t gone,” Fletch said.

Alston looked at his watch.

“We’re not going?” Barbara asked.

“We’re going.” Fletch said to Alston, “You didn’t tell her?”

“I’m not going to.”

“We’re not going to Colorado.”

“Our luggage is,” Barbara said.

“Must get it back,” Fletch said.

Alston hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Skis.”

“Come on,” Fletch said. “Let’s go.”

They were rushing up the corridor.

“We’re not going?” Barbara asked.

“I’ve got the tickets,” Alston said. “Turn them in. I’ve got the baggage tickets. Get the luggage.”

Barbara said, “We’re not going.”

“We are going,” said Fletch. “Alston, we need to get the luggage to British Air at the International Terminal.”

“The plane’s changed?” Barbara asked.

“We’re changing planes.”

“For Colorado?”

“London.”

“London, Colorado?”

“Kenya.”

“London, Kenya?”

“Nairobi, Kenya.”

“Nairobi, Kenya!”

“Africa.”

“Africa!”

“East Africa.”

Barbara mouthed the words: “East Africa …”

“Didn’t you say you’d follow me to the ends of the earth?”

“Never! You can’t even find a pizza parlor in Malibu!”

In the terminal’s main concourse, Barbara jumped ahead of Fletch, turned around, and stopped. Facing Fletch, she put her fists on her hips.

“Fletch! What’s going on?”

“London,” Fletch said. “Then we’re going on to Kenya.”

Alston had kept walking.

“Tell me what’s happening!”

“We’ve got a wedding present,” Fletch said. “A trip to Nairobi, Kenya.”

“Who from? Tell me another.” Barbara’s face flushed. “Fletch! You accepted an assignment from the newspaper on our honeymoon!”

“No, no. Nothing like that.”

Flapping boarding passes, airline tickets, baggage stubs, Alston was at the airline’s courtesy information booth clearly straining the attendant’s courtesy.

“You did too!”

“Would I do that to you?”

“I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit in some hotel room, or some, some grass shack while you run miles in circles trying to fill up one damned inch of that damned newspaper! Not on my honeymoon!”

“I told you: the trip is a present. A wedding present. It will be fun.”

“I’ll bet. A present from the newspaper!”

“No. Not from the newspaper.”

“Who else would give you a trip to Africa?”

The courteous man at the information counter now had a phone to each ear while also, apparently, listening to Alston.

“My father.”

Barbara’s eyes popped. “Your father?”

“I guess.”

“You didn’t say, I do at the wedding, you said, I guess I do. Now you’re saying you guess you got a wedding present of a trip to Africa from father?”

“It’s turned into a highly conjectural day.”

At the counter, Alston’s lips were moving rapidly.

“You’ve never had a father. Or you’ve had four of them, or something.”

“What’s the difference?”

“What father?”

“The one who died.”

“You’ve inherited something?”

“No. We really don’t have time to discuss this now, Barbara.”

“You didn’t have time to discuss the wedding, either.”

“And it happened, see? It came off with a hitch. All right. Things work out.”

Barbara wagged her head. “This can’t work out.”

“Sure it can.”

“I can’t go to Kenya.”

“We haven’t had any shots, have we?”

“I don’t have a passport!”

“Oh, that.” Fletch reached into the muddy envelope. “You have a passport.” He handed it to her.

Alston was striding toward them, smiling.

“Alston,” Fletch said, “we haven’t had any shots.”

“You only need them for medical reasons,” Alston said. “Not legal reasons.”

“I’m glad you became a lawyer.”

“Yeah.” Alston glanced at Barbara. “Don’t forget: I do divorces.”

“Where did this picture of me come from?” Barbara said into her passport.

Fletch glanced at it over her shoulder. “It’s a nice one.”

“Okay.” Alston was sorting various tickets and stubs in his hands. “Your tickets to Colorado are canceled. Not sure I’ll be able to get your money back.”

“Can we get the luggage back?”

“That’s my green sweater,” Barbara said at her passport picture.

“What they’re going to try to do is get your luggage off that plane, then they’ll send it over to the International Terminal, British Air, and get it aboard your flight to London, checked straight through to Nairobi.”

Fletch put Barbara’s passport back in the muddy envelope. “We won’t know if our luggage is with us until we get to Nairobi.”

“The skis,” Barbara said.

“Can’t separate the luggage now.” Alston shook his head. “No way. Things are too confusing as it is.”

“Are you confused?” Barbara asked. “I’m not confused.”

Alston glanced at his watch. “We’ve got to get over to the International Terminal quick-quick. Got to tell them what your connecting flight to Nairobi is.”

“Quick-quick.” Fletch grabbed Barbara’s elbow.

“We’re not going skiing,” Barbara said. “We packed ski clothes! Nothing but ski clothes!”

“Barbara, we have to hurry.”

“Where?”

“International Terminal,” Fletch said.

“British Air,” Alston said.

They were dashing across the concourse.

“London, England,” Fletch said.

“Passport Control,” Alston said.

“Nairobi, Kenya,” Fletch said.

“Fletch! I told my mother I’d call her from Colorado!”

“Can’t stop,” Fletch said.

“Tonight!”

Fletch steered her into the revolving door.

“Ain’t married life fun?” After he went through the revolving door himself, he said, “So far?”