@page { margin-bottom: 5.000000pt; margin-top: 5.000000pt; } 1 EDIE HIGGINS DRUMMED her black-polished nails happily as she sat behind the wheel of Barnaby’s cab. The midnight rain flowed down the windshield in rivers, her Mickey Mouse watch said 1:07 a.m., but JFK airport was still bustling with life. The May air was warm, but not too warm, which was a good thing, because Edie had quickly discovered that the A/C in Barnaby’s cab had gone out since the last time she’d driven it. Not that the brakes were in great condition either, but it so happened that Edie had a lead foot, which worked just as well for stopping as speeding up. Curious, she scanned the soggy travelers that were waiting in the long taxi line. Since she had been a kid, she had always adored the drama of airports. The heart-squeezing hugs of families coming home, the long, wet kisses of reunited lovers and the misty-eyed wave from a forlorn six-year-old who didn’t understand why Mom was going away. That was life.
