The sight of Flagstaff below the plane’s window triggered a flood of emotions: first, nostalgia for the beauty of the trees and the quaintness of the architecture, followed by a fear of becoming stuck there again. Rippling under the surface was a fading bitterness that her childhood in this mountain town had been disappointing at best. This was her first visit in years. She often thought about making the drive from Phoenix to see her aunt, but never did. Fortunately, Lynn made occasional trips to the city, so they had dinner and drinks at least once a year. Ten minutes later, she walked off the plane into a blue-sky day and gulped in cool, fresh air. Flagstaff in July was about perfect. But she was here to witness a death, and her mood darkened in spite of the scenery. All of her dread washed away when her aunt wrapped her arms around her and murmured, “I’ve missed you.” Dallas had called Lynn to pick her up because her aunt was dependable, and she didn’t want to commit to seeing her mother.
