For almost two minutes, he did not speak.
That is the thing about Eli.
He knows when something is worth being quiet for.
On the third night, Daniel came to my hotel room after dinner. He brought a manila folder with him, thick enough to make my stomach tighten before he even opened it.
He sat at the small table by the window and laid out papers like he was presenting a business case.
Which, I suppose, he was.
He said he needed me to sign a durable power of attorney transferring management of the annuity accounts to him while I was getting older and things were becoming more complex.
“It’s just practical,” he said. “Mom would have wanted the family protected.”
I looked at the papers for a long time.
I recognized Gerald’s firm name on the top page, but something was wrong. The formatting was slightly off. The font did not match. I have signed enough contracts in my life to know when a document has been altered by someone who thinks older eyes will not notice.
“I’ll review these with Gerald when I get home,” I said.
Daniel’s face changed.
Only for a second.
Just around the eyes.
Then his smile returned.
“Of course, Dad. Whenever you’re ready.”
He gathered the papers and left.
I sat by the window for an hour, looking at the lights of Rome and thinking about Dorothy’s warning.
Be careful.
The fourth day was my birthday.
Lisa organized dinner in Trastevere. The whole family at a restaurant with small candles on the table and old stone walls around us. A cake came out with sparklers. They sang. Eli sat on my right and kept one hand on my arm the whole time, as if making sure I was still there.
Kevin made a toast that was sentimental and slightly slurred.
Brett checked his phone through most of it.
Daniel smiled too much.
Lisa watched me too closely.
It was a dinner.
Afterward, Daniel suggested we extend part of the trip. He said he had found flights to the Amalfi Coast, a smaller group, just him and Renee, Lisa and Brett, leaving the next morning for three days. He said Kevin was heading home early. Kevin had other commitments. He said Eli would love it if I came with them to the coast.
I asked where Eli would stay if I did not come.
Daniel said Eli was going back with Kevin.
Something about that did not sit right. Eli had barely spoken to Kevin the whole trip, and Kevin was in no condition to be responsible for an eleven-year-old child in an international airport.
But before I could press him, Lisa was talking about ferry schedules, Renee was showing me photos of Positano, and Brett was saying the hotel was too good to miss.
The moment passed.
The next morning, we went to the airport together.
Daniel, Renee, Lisa, and Brett for their flight to Naples.
Kevin, Eli, and I for the return flight to Columbus, scheduled for that afternoon.
At security, Lisa noticed my phone battery was low.
“I’ve got a cable in my bag,” she said. “Give it to me. I’ll charge it while we walk.”
So I handed it to her.
Daniel said my passport and return ticket were safer in the zipper pocket of his carry-on.
“You left your boarding pass in your jacket back in Columbus,” he said gently. “Let me keep everything together.”
That was true.
I had left my boarding pass in my jacket on the belt in Columbus and had to wait while they retrieved it.
So I handed him my passport.
And my boarding pass.
I had my wallet.
That was it.
My wallet and the clothes I was wearing.
The security line was long. Near the end, it split into two channels.