Page 60 of On the Power Play

Any bumps? I know bumps make you nervous.

Did security show?

Delia grinned at the messages from her mom. She answered them, then turned to Mary. "Where are we staying?"

Mary grinned. "You'll see."

Delia rolled her eyes. "Why are you and Tony being so cryptic? It's not like I'm going to tell people where we're holing up for the month."

"It's just more fun to make it a surprise."

"For it to be a surprise, I'd need to know something about this city." Delia stopped at their assigned luggage carousel, her mind spinning. Had they booked an apartment? That Airbnb? Mary wouldn't be pretending this was going to be a good surprise if it was a nasty extended-stay hotel.

Or would she? Delia imagined dirty shag carpet, cigarette burns on the sheets, and bars over the windows. They'd had to stay in one of those rooms once when she was first starting out. Vancouver had not been kind to them that trip. It would be like Mary to bring something like that back for nostalgia’s sake. Delia shuddered.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but my daughter is positive you're a famous singer." A woman with a blonde bob tucked behind her ears stood next to them, gripping the hand of a little girl who looked to be about ten.

Delia smiled down at her daughter. "What kind of songs do you think I sing?" The little girl pulled her hand free and started listing them off, beginning with her first album and moving on to the songs on her most recent one, then jumping into the singles she'd played live but hadn't officially released yet. Delia laughed. "That's impressive. What's your name?"

The little girl bounced on her heels. "Norah. Can I get a picture?" Her smile was contagious, and Delia nodded without hesitation. She crouched down and put an arm around Norah as her mom stepped back and held up her phone.

"Thank you so much. I love your music. I love your shows." Norah stepped back and snatched the phone from her mom, swiping to see the photos.

Her mom stepped forward. "Thank you so much. She has ADHD, and music is the only thing that helps her get her homework done."

Delia's heart squeezed. "You have ADHD, Norah? So do I!"

Norah's eyes lit up. "You do?"

Delia nodded. "Yep. I take medication for it sometimes, except when I'm writing or performing. Then I have to use my superpower."

Norah's little brow creased. "I don't know what medication would feel like."

Her mom sighed. "She doesn't want to feel like there's something wrong with her."

"Oh I get that. At least you have the option. When I was growing up, everyone told me my head was in the clouds, and I should figure out how to pay better attention."

Norah’s jaw dropped. "My teachers tell me that all the time."

Delia crouched back down to look at Norah eye to eye. "Our brains are special. I used to wish I was like everyone else, but now I'm grateful I'm not."

There was so much she wanted to tell Norah. That school was probably going to suck for a while longer. That even when she got out of school, she was still going to have to do things that felt like pulling teeth, and she’d mess it up plenty of times before she got it right. That the world was never going to be perfectly built for people who wanted to stay up until two in the morning and sleep until noon, but that it got easier to adjust as you got older. That her creativity was so much more expansive than she knew, and as she scratched away those layers of expectation shellacked onto her through her teenage years, she’d continued to discover new ways she didn't fit and new ways she did.

Since her bags were already dumping onto the carousel, she settled on, "Find what your brain loves, and do it as much as you can. Don't worry if you get sick of it and move on to something else. It's not quitting, it's just opening a new chapter."

Norah nodded, absorbing every word like an acoustic panel. Delia didn't know if any of that advice would've been helpful for her at that age when she was struggling to make sense of the world around her. At least it could've given her hope that there was something to look forward to. The mother-daughter pair thanked her again and walked away. Delia scanned for Norah’s father, but they looked to be alone. Maybe he was at home waiting for them. Delia chose that narrative as she waved and walked back to help Mary with the bags.

Mary grabbed a luggage cart, and they worked together to load their eight bags onto the metal rails, then walked with their guard, Alvin—Mary had gotten his name while she’d been talking to her young fan—to the parking garage. The cold air snapped against Delia's lungs. It had been frigid in Toronto, but that was next-level arctic.

"When is it spring here?" Delia zipped up her coat.

Alvin chuckled. "On and off between now and July."

Mary laughed at the expression on Delia's face. "It's next to the mountains, which means bipolar weather. It's fun."

"I have enough uncertainty in my life, thank you very much."

Alvin led them to a black SUV and opened the back hatch. He loaded their bags in, and Delia took the cart back. She jogged, hoping that would get her blood pumping.