Before long they were flying at nineteen thousand feet. All she could see were soft fleecy clouds. The plane seemed like a giant bird skimming over endless banks of snow. Three hours from the time they left the airport they could make out the tall buildings of Chicago, hundreds of miles from home.
“I’ll meet you at the railroad terminal in an hour, two at the most,” John told his wife, taking only his viola with him as he stepped into a taxi to keep his appointment.
Mrs. Lurie and Judy proceeded to the railroad. The porter left them with their five pieces of baggage near the gate marked “Denver and California.” There were no seats nearby and before a half hour passed, it became increasingly difficult to stand. Judy balanced herself on one of the upturned suitcases and her mother soon followed her example. They tried to read. A coke from one machine and salted peanuts from another provided a pleasant interlude. Judy watched people going into a restaurant at the far end of the station. Her mother noticed her fascinated absorption.
“We can’t move these bags and there isn’t a porter in sight. As soon as your father comes, we’ll get something to eat.”
At the word “eat,” Judy remembered her grandmother’s shoebox—such tremendous chicken sandwiches and fruit! This was the emergency her grandmother always managed to foresee.
When another hour passed, Mrs. Lurie, no longer able to conceal her anxiety, went in search of a porter. He tossed their luggage on his truck while they took up their vigil at the gate, scanning every entrance. With less than five minutes to spare, John rushed toward them, mumbling breathlessly, “Sorry, darlings.”
“Sorry nothing,” Judy thought, severely critical. On the contrary, she noticed his eyes sparkled.
“I signed the new contract,” he whispered to Minna as he herded them aboard the train. Mrs. Lurie, too, was now all smiles, the tension of the last hours forgotten.
They entered the car where they would spend the remaining hours of the late afternoon, the night, and most of the following day.
Mr. Lurie cleared the seats of the luggage. His viola, never out of his sight for a moment, he placed conspicuously near the seat he would occupy.