“Didn’t you hand over your luggage at the ticket counter?” Lucy demanded.

“I guess I must have. I don’t have it now.”

“No, you don’t,” agreed Lucy, fighting the urge to take her by her shoulders and shake her. “You must have checked your bags, and they gave you a ticket. Do you remember what you did with it?”

“No, I don’t,” admitted her mother. “I don’t remember that at all.”

“Well,” said Lucy, speaking softly and patiently as she might to one of the children, “how about looking in your pockets and your purse. I don’t think that man will let you take a suitcase without your ticket stub.” She indicated an extremely large uniformed baggage attendant.

The older woman obediently went through her pockets and found nothing, so Lucy led her over to the row of seats so she could sit down and search her purse.

“It isn’t here,” her mother announced.

“What is that pink paper?” asked Lucy, spying a corner peeking out of an inner zipped compartment.

“I don’t know,” she replied, and pulled out a stub printed with large black numbers. She sat and looked at the paper, turning it over and over.

When she made no effort to move, Lucy said, “That looks like it. Let’s give it a try, okay?”

“All right,” her mother agreed, following her over to the baggage carousel.

“What does the bag look like?” asked Lucy. “How many are there?”

“Just one.”

“Do you see it?” asked Lucy.

“No, I don’t recognize any of these.”

Lucy bent over and began comparing the strips attached to the bags with the stub in her hand. She soon found a bag with matching numbers and asked, “Is this it?”

“It could be.” She was open to the possibility.

Lucy picked up the bag. “Now, where did the kids go?”

“The kids?”

“You know. My children. Your grandchildren,” snapped Lucy, her patience exhausted. “They were here a minute ago.”

“They were?”

“Here they are,” said Lucy as the three kids ran up. She was almost hysterical with tension and relief, and her head was pounding. “We’ve got the kids and we’ve got your bag, I guess we’re all set.”

“Did you bring us presents?” Toby asked boldly.

“No. I haven’t shopped yet.” All three children’s faces fell with disappointment, but their grandmother ignored their crestfallen expressions and turned to Lucy. “I didn’t want to carry the presents on the plane. I thought you and I could go shopping together this week.”

“I’m sure we can,” Lucy answered in a cheerful voice, but inwardly she was furious with her mother. One week until Christmas and her mother had just assumed she would have time to take her shopping. Somehow they would have to fit it in, but Lucy already felt deluged with Christmas preparations.