Hit & Mrs. by Lesley Crewe

sixty so Gemma bought a few as an experiment.”
    â€œWell, the experiment has gone awry.”
    The attendant suggested they put her in one of the empty first-class seats, so as not to hump her down the aisle and over the mortified student again. They led their sleepy friend over to a comfy seat and tucked her up in a blanket. The attendant told Augusta she could sit in the seat beside her. The student looked mightily relieved when Linda and Bette returned to their seats without their friends.
    Just their luck, the plane circled over New York for a good hour— but since it was dark, there was no view to pass the time. Not even the famous lights of the city were visible. The captain came on to tell them it was overcast and unseasonably cold in the Big Apple. He didn’t have to tell them it was windy. The plane bucked as it made its descent. A roller coaster would be hard pressed to come up with a better ride. Linda and Bette held hands through the descent, but Augusta was forced to bite her nails alone. Gemma snored on.
    They finally landed, and as the other passengers filed out of the plane, Augusta shook Gemma awake. Gemma gave a great yawn and smacked her lips a couple of times.
    â€œAren’t we in the air yet?”
    â€œWe’re in New York, you ninny.”
    Gemma shook her head. “We are? Where have I been?”
    â€œOut cold.” Augusta stood and waited for Bette and Linda to join them. Gemma also stood but quickly sat down. “My head is throbbing.” The businessman with the laptop went by and gave them a dirty look.
    Linda and Bette hurried up the aisle. “Are you okay, Gem?”
    â€œNot really.”
    Bette grabbed her hand. “Are you woozy? Sick to your stomach?”
    Gemma adjusted her skirt and squirmed in her seat. “No, but I’ll tell you this: These thongs are well named. I feel like I’ve got a rubber sandal up my butt.”
    Augusta grabbed her bag and coat from Linda. “Can we please get out of here? I need a drink.”
    They rushed out of the plane and into the La Guardia airport terminal, and hurried over to the luggage carousel. Augusta’s suitcase came down with a broken wheel and the handle nearly ripped off, but she was lucky since Linda’s didn’t come down at all.
    Linda stamped her foot. “I don’t believe this. Now I have to report my bag missing. What a waste of time.”
    â€œGet them to deliver it to the hotel,” Augusta said.
    Gemma burped. “Remember that Visa card? Go get a whole new wardrobe. And while you’re at it, buy me some antacids.”
    At that moment a young mother, struggling to carry a crying baby and two over-the-shoulder bags, bumped into the back of Linda’s heel with a stroller.
    â€œOw!”
    â€œOh, sorry,” the mother said.
    Linda winced. “That’s okay. Do you need us to hold anything for you? You look like you need help.”
    â€œNo thanks.” The mother walked away.
    â€œThis Miss Independent thing has gone too far,” Gemma said.
    â€œYoung women these days won’t accept a stick to pull them out of quicksand.”
    Linda looked around. “Okay. I have to find the Air Canada counter. Bette, I made arrangements with a car service to take us to the hotel. They’re called ‘black cars’ or something like that. They’re parked at the front of the terminal. Why don’t you go and tell them to wait?”
    â€œI don’t think we should be separated,” Augusta said. “Why don’t we all go to the counter? The last thing I need is to lose one of you.”
    Linda rolled her eyes. “Fine. You’re such a worry wart.”
    They wandered about, looking for signs to point them in the right direction. When they finally found the right place there was a line of people in front of every agent, so they had no choice but to wait. Finally, in desperation, Linda insisted Bette and Augusta go out to