Tower of London: My mom and the kids.

There’s a Heather Chapman who lives in London, England, and her e-mail address is almost the same as mine. Because of the “almost,” she sometimes gets my mail. Because of the “almost,” she Googled me last February, and when we connected, I liked her right away.

For one thing, it was very kind of her to forward my lost e-mails. She could have flushed them into the sewage pipes of Cyberspace, but instead she saved them and attached friendly greetings to them and sent them to me. She even passed along a one-liner that my daughter had written from our basement. (“Mom, can I have a Popsicle?”)

Also, the other Heather Chapman seemed so interesting. She lived in London—wow. She worked in the fashion industry. And sometimes she’d jet off to places like Majorca. (“Going on holiday,” she’d write at the top of my misplaced mail. “Cheers!”)

I was thinking about her last week as I wound my way through Heathrow Airport. The kids and I were meeting my mom in London for a five-day tour. We’d been looking forward to the trip for months.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” I said to my daughter. “We get to see your grandmother, and we’ll have fish and chips for every meal, and I’m actually going to meet the other Heather Chapman!”

My daughter’s smile turned downward for a moment. She was excited to spend time with my mom, whom we hadn’t seen since our move to Sweden. And, she was mildly pleased about the fish and chips, although she’d pointed out that we could get those in Ann Arbor.

But, she didn’t exactly approve of Operation Other Heather.

“Mom,” she said sternly. “Maybe it’s not a good idea. I mean, you don’t know anything about Other Heather.”

“Yes I do,” I said, pulling our bags from the luggage belt. “She sometimes jets off to Majorca.”

About an hour later, we arrived at the hotel and were thrilled to see my mother. It was her very first trip overseas. There was so much to celebrate and talk about. So, we decided to celebrate and talk over fish and chips.

My mom took the first bite. “Mmmm,” she said. “Very, very, very…”

She searched for the right word.

“Average.”

And she was right. Bad fish and chips would be a theme for the rest of our vacation. We never found anything that came close to Conor O’Neill's.

The rest of London, however, did not disappoint. Everywhere we turned, there was a historical marker and/or statue of a guy on a horse. Pink, red, and purple flowers were tucked into nooks and crevices all over the city. Any time we looked over our shoulders, it seemed that Parliament and Big Ben were following behind us, glittering in the autumn sunlight.

The fourth day was our grand finale. We would see St. Paul’s Cathedral and the Tower of London, and then we’d take a boat ride down the Thames. Afterward, at 7 p.m, I would meet the other Heather Chapman.

It was a lot to do in one day. Jewels! Crypts! Cobblestone! We didn’t make it back to the hotel until a quarter to seven, at which point there was no chance I could shower. I would have to meet the other Heather Chapman wearing a sweat-stained T-shirt and a baseball cap.

“I look like an axe murderer,” I said, scrutinizing myself quickly in the hallway mirror.

My daughter harrumphed her disapproval. “How do you know that Other Heather isn’t an axe murderer?” she asked.

“Because,” I said, “her punctuation is excellent.” I kissed my frowning daughter and hurried out the door.

Only as I was walking to the pub did it occur to me that I had no idea what Other Heather looked like. Or that we might not have anything to talk about. Or that, punctuation aside, she might actually be an axe murderer. I had sped through the Tower of London at breakneck speed, I had neglected to apply a much-needed second coating of antiperspirant, and now I might be killed by my English counterpart. Not the best way to end a vacation.

But, the woman sitting with a wine spritzer near the pub’s front door did not look dangerous. She was beautiful, with dark hair and an obvious sense of when to wear which accessories. Her blue eyes sparkled as I approached, and in unison, the two of us said, “Heather?”

We’d been scheduled to meet for just an hour, but we ended up talking and laughing together for almost three.