Come Fly With Me

by Sandi Perry

  "Mrs. James, what a pleasure it is to meet you again," Allison said as she walked up to the woman with the smiling eyes who had come to see her only child receive the prestigious Pritzker Prize.

  "Allison, don't you look radiant! Thank you for coming—Kenyon is out on the floor hobnobbing."

  "Of course I came. Kenyon is my dear friend, and I'm so thrilled that his incredible talent is being recognized by the industry. Is Mr. James coming?"

  "I don't think he could pull himself away from whatever waitress he is bestowing his affection upon at the moment to come here. Getting rid of that man is the best present I ever gave myself. Ah, there's my son, now."

  Kenyon walked up to Allison and gave her a hug as he whispered in her ear, "Save me. Do you think if I feigned amnesia, she would leave? All she's talking about is how thrilled she is that she divorced my Dad—two years ago." He pulled back and looked at her, "Damn, you look fine. Your hair—very dramatic like that, all pulled off your face. And the cranberry silk dress, I like...I really like."

  "Thank you, now don't think about a thing except making the best speech ever and smiling for the pictures. This dinner is always written up in the trades and you want to look your dashing best. You'll get more business than you'll know how to handle."

  "Thanks, my love. I have to do a little more press. I'll see you in a bit," he kissed her on the cheek and walked into the crowd.

  Allison looked at her watch and realized her mother probably would have landed by now. She was glad her mother had spent the last couple of weeks in L.A. with Aunt Carol. They always had a great time together. She hoped she would be refreshed and relaxed before she had to deal with the likelihood of the murder of her husband. Allison gently excused herself from the steady monologue that Kenyon's mom was keeping up and went to the anteroom to call and check up on her mother.

  As she reached for her phone, someone called her name.

  "Ms. Ross, always a pleasure."

  She whirled around and saw Michael Essex walking toward her and reaching for her hand. He kissed it and cocked his head as if to assess her reaction.

  She gently removed her hand from his and nodded her head, "Good evening, Mr. Essex."

  "Now that sounded chilly," he admonished.

  "Just trying to sound appropriate as per our business relationship."

  "And sounding even chillier still," he said softly. "Might I add that you look exquisite this evening? Please save some space on your dance card for me. I have to go inside and shake a few hands, and then I'll seek you out."

  He nodded at her and entered the ballroom before she could utter another word. A fury rose from somewhere deep in her and she bristled at his offhandedness. As if, as if she would dance with him. Just because he said so. He didn't even ask, never even assumed she wouldn't be interested or available to dance with him. Yes, she had issues with men and their power—starting with her father. It was the main reason she never joined corporate America. I'll just own my little gallery and plod nicely along, no thanks to all of you. If only Kenyon had already received his award, she would leave immediately. She calmed herself enough to phone her mother and then braced herself to confront Michael Essex. It was time to piss him off.

  She stormed into the room and spotted him immediately. He was conversing with a beautiful woman about his age. She arranged her expression into a neutral one; there was certainly no need to involve everyone in her heated put down of Michael.

  He smiled as he saw her approach, "Allison, come and meet my sister, Elizabeth."

  Elizabeth smiled at her disarmingly, and she could see some of Kaitlin in her, "My niece seems to be quite taken with you. I'm glad you've gotten through to her. Sometimes she closes up and it's no easy matter to figure out what's wrong."

  "My guess would be boy," said Michael. "Don't women usually find fault with us men?" He directed his question to Allison.

  "Well, actually, if we might have a minute alone," she responded.

  "But of course. Elizabeth," he looked at her and she seemed to melt away into the crowd.

  He was even high-handed with his own family; it was unconscionable.

  "Look, Mr. Ess..." she began.

  "I came on too strong earlier. I apologize. I have to expend more effort in switching my brain from work-speak to social-speak."

  "Well, I..."

  "It's a bad habit of mine. I assume everyone can read my mind, and then agree with all my thoughts. I must have sounded self-centered and conceited."

  "Not exa..."

  "I am terribly sorry. Please accept my humblest apologies," he waited for a few beats, as Allison said nothing. "Aren't you going to let me off the hook, now?" He smiled charmingly.

  "I was just waiting to speak without being interrupted."

  "You're fabulous, just fabulous. I don't intimidate you at all—good, good," he said as he led her to the dance floor.

  "I have no desire to dance with you," she said as he swept her skillfully into his arms.

  "It appears we are already dancing, Allison. Let's enjoy the moment, shall we?"

  Michael twirled her expertly around the floor. He whispered into her ear, "You're graceful—did you take dance?"

  "Um, one summer I took a ballet at camp."

  "And it shows."

  Allison felt her irritation fade under the assault of his charm and clenched her jaw in fresh frustration. In some ways, he reminded her of Alex and her anger grew.

  "You might enjoy yourself more if you relaxed and gave your soul to the music."

  "I might enjoy myself more if you spoke to me with respect, like I was your peer and not some object for your entertainment."

  He stopped abruptly mid-step, and she had to catch herself from tripping over him and sprawling onto the floor in front of a few hundred people.

  He led her off the dance floor as if she were some errant child about to be scolded for staying up past her bedtime. They walked to a quiet corner.

  "I respect you," he said in a low voice.

  "Not even close," she said.

  "How so? Because I forced you to dance with me? Because I've been wondering how you would feel in my arms from the moment I stepped into your gallery?"

  Her eyes widened at his unexpected words. "Surely you don't mean..."

  "I never say anything I don't mean. I never speak when silence will do. And no, to answer your unspoken question, I don't assume all females are interested in me. I seem to have made a grievous misstep and for that I offer my sincerest apologies." He walked away and left her standing dumbfounded in the corner of the room, as if he had put her there for a timeout. Once again, she hadn't been given the opportunity to respond.

  She walked slowly back to the table, rattled and unnerved. Kenyon's eyes were on her, and he came over to sit down next to her.

  "I saw you talking to Michael Essex. He's a prick, you know."

  "An influential one. Don't get into a fight with him over me."

  "I won't, but I just thought you should know that about him," Kenyon warned.

  "I know it's his reputation, but he's such a great father that I feel like somehow I'm missing an important piece of the puzzle."

  "I don't know that side of him, but work-wise he's been demanding and imperious. I'll be glad when his project is done."

  "Thank you for the warning. But if you'll recall, you're the one that got me into this mess," she looked at him glumly.

  "And I'm not sorry for the career opportunities this will open up for you. But I do need you to be careful around him. He's a difficult guy to read. He's priggish and unpredictable, and then in a flash he's gone and you have no idea what your next step should be. I guess we can blame the Brits for that."

  "What do you mean?"

  "His parents were elitist snobs and they didn't think any schools here in the States were good enough for him. His mother was English, you know. Anyway, they sent him off to a boarding school in the U.K. at the tender age of thirteen. He stayed on for University there, E
ton, I think. Everything is cold and rainy and gray there. Word has it that it influenced him very much. People say he's cold and dark—"

  "In addition to being a prick."

  "Yeah, well..."

  "Kind of makes me feel sorry for the guy. I know that would be a foolish move, but enough said. Tonight is about you. Architects work their whole career for a prize like this. You're in the business little over a decade and look what you've achieved. I could not be prouder. Go get me some expensive champagne so we can toast to your success," she smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.

  "You're my favorite female," he smiled at her winningly. "Don't let Mom chew your ear off."

  "Don't worry, I've got it covered. You just enjoy your night." She looked around the room at all the industry leaders and felt so happy for him. She sat at a table filled with well-wishers. Everyone loved Kenyon. Would I even be able to fill a table if I were to receive an award, she wondered. She knew the answer, even though she was reluctant to admit it. Alex, Kenyon, Emily, her mother, they'd all been pushing her for weeks, now to let down her defenses and let life happen to her. She reached up to wipe away the lone tear that threatened to ruin her carefully applied make-up. She stood up and applauded the loudest as Ken walked up to the podium to receive his award.

  Chapter 30

  The next day dawned early. Allison hadn't been able to sleep when she'd gotten home from the dinner the night before and had put in lot of time sketching in her loft. She had finished the charcoal of Kaitlin and had some thoughts about how to proceed with the oil. She shuddered to think about the awkward few minutes when Michael would bring her by in a couple of hours. Why did he bring her in anyway? She was almost a teenager; surely, she could walk up the steps herself after the driver dropped her off. She felt a fresh surge of irritation toward Michael Essex and hoped he had sense enough to realize his attentions toward her were unwanted.

  She had downed three cups of coffee by noon and was a jittery mess when her doorbell rang. She buzzed them in and was surprised when only Michael showed up. He marched straight through the door she held open.

  "Kaitlin is sick; she won't be able to keep her appointment," he said.

  "Seriously?" she asked.

  "Allison, I have been called many things; but a liar is not one of them," he admonished softly.

  "I didn't mean to imply that you were lying, it just seems unnecessary to me that you came here anyway. Kaitlin could have just called me to cancel."

  "She has laryngitis," he said.

  "I see," she said with her arms folded, "and this has nothing to do with last night?"

  His look pierced her, "You told me off, at least you tried to—I didn't really give you the opportunity to speak your piece. Please," he waved his hand at her as he sat down, "'let me have it."

  "I'm not going to do that. It isn't important anymore."

  "But it is...I seem to be stepping on a lot of toes lately with regard to the females in my life. I need to understand what I'm doing wrong."

  She took a deep breath, "You need to listen, for starters. You're intimidating...tut, tut," she wagged her finger at him, "no interrupting. That's number two. You have a bad habit of doing that. I don't know if that's a tactic or the impatient reaction of a man whose mind works at lightning speed and is on to the next thought before the conversation is through. And thirdly, and most important of all: women like to be heard. They will use their friends as a sounding board, and if they are involved with a man, or considering becoming involved with him, they want their voice to be recognized and respected by him."

  He looked at her silently for a minute, "That's a lot to consider. It seems I have been doing many things wrong, according to your scale. Kaitlin and I had a big row last night before I left for the dinner. By the way, your friend is a terrifically talented young man; he's doing a bang up job on my summer home. But back to the fight, Kaitlin was invited to a party and was all dressed up to go, and I forbade her."

  "You forbade her? That sounds a little 1950, don't you think?"

  "Well, she looked so beautiful, half child/half woman. I panicked. She has laryngitis now because she lost her voice yelling; and she's actually just sick of me," he said sheepishly.

  "It must be very tough to watch your daughter grow up and not be able to stop it or fully protect her from the world. She's a great girl, and right now she has respect for you. But that will change if you don't take her feelings into account. She needs to socialize and party with her friends. I can tell you that today, all the girls that were at the party last night are burning up the lines and texting one another about which cute guy approached which girl. Its fun stuff and she'll be missing that if you don't reconsider how you handle it. She'll become resentful and then your real problems will start. A friend of mine once told me that the pliant branch sways in the wind and survives to grow into a large tree. A branch that is stiff will snap off at the first strong wind."

  "Wow, you're really good at this kind of thing."

  "It's just that I remember being a teenager, and I had a strong, domineering father that was always 'right'."

  "So how did that all work out?"

  "The difference was I had a terrific mother who would plead my case to my father and smooth over our rough patches. But don't think I didn't threaten to run away more than once. My relationship with my father stayed challenging for many years after that. It was only in the last couple of years that he actually allowed himself to be proud of me and my life decisions."

  He shook his head slowly, "You're an amazing woman," he said as he got up. "You've given me a lot to think about. It would please me greatly, even after you're done with the portrait if somehow you could stay in Kaitlin's life, as a mentor/friend. I know it's a lot to ask, but I think she'd really enjoy that."

  "I'd enjoy that, too. Would you like a cup of coffee, or tea?"

  "No thank you, I have to get back. I think an apology is in order." He smiled as he took her hand in his and bent his head to kiss it. "You'll be a great mother one day."

  Allison watched as he walked down the staircase. She was taken aback by his parting words, but she didn't feel the usual panic when she heard a statement like that. Maybe it's high time I took my 'friend's' advice and applied it to my own life, she thought.

  Chapter 31

  Allison leaned against her kitchen counter sipping her first coffee of the morning. She held the New York Times Sunday crossword and swore skillfully under her breath. Only cryptologists registered with the CIA can do these things, she muttered, Monday's and Tuesday's could be done in pen in at least, while Wednesday and Thursday required pencil and a few cheats off the internet. Friday's was a lost cause—actually, she felt like a lost cause. Yesterday's good feelings had somehow bled into melancholy overnight. She was drained and thrilled that she had nothing planned for the day. Her fluffy, bunny slippers and her ratty, favorite robe would be her companions for the next eighteen hours. Was someone ringing her doorbell? She wasn't expecting anyone. Ignoring it, she took another crack at the puzzle. What was that? Was that a pebble being thrown at her window? Oh, for the love of G-d.

  She threw open the window and saw Alex waving at her madly, "Your bell isn't working. Open the lobby door."

  Reluctantly she rang him in and stood in the doorway to discourage him from feeling welcome. "What's so urgent that you were willing to risk shattering my window? I do have a telephone," she said.

  "Which you refuse to answer," he replied. "I have a dozen warm bagels, one of every flavor because I didn't know which you'd prefer. Are you going to let me in?" He shoved the door open with his elbow and frowned, "Were you planning on getting dressed today?" He wrinkled his nose. "Showering, maybe?"

  "You might not realize this, but I don't need you to feed me like I'm some pet.," Allison said as she tightened the belt on her robe. "And if you really took the time to look at me, you might have realized that I'm not too happy to see you." She pointed at herself. "Look at the expression on my face—do I
look happy to see you?"

  "Come to think of it, you're never actually happy to see me. But, I can tell that I'm growing on you."

  "Yeah, like a fungus," she mumbled.

  He reached into the cabinet to take out some plates and turned on the tap to run water for the coffee machine. "So, what will it be? Poppy, sesame, blueberry, garlic, everything?"

  She stood silently, her arms folded across her chest. He looked entirely too comfortable in her kitchen.

  "Surely, something here can please you." He moved closer and pulled her into his arms, "As I recall you weren't that difficult to please...maybe I've got the wrong idea here, trying to satisfy you with a bagel."

  "What is it with you?" She shoved him off. "Is it a power trip to get me riled up and then see me lose control while you stay in control?" Allison asked.

  He eyed her thoughtfully, "What's the problem? The cowboy can't satisfy you the way I can?"

  "Stick to the subject, this conversation is about you; I'd think that would be your favorite subject."

  He leaned, preparing to kiss her.

  She gave him another shove. "Don't flatter yourself."

  "I haven't done anything that you haven't given consent to," he said as he stepped back an inch.

  "An inch? That's all the space you give me when I'm telling you I feel taken advantage of and undermined?"

  "I apologize if that's how you feel. I thought we were having some fun."

  She looked at him, "Is this 'sensitive' Alex'?"

  He bobbed his head enthusiastically.

  "I'm not buying it, but I am hungry." Realizing how futile it was to talk to him, she caved. "Fine. Toast a poppy bagel for me while I take a shower."

  "Only if you say please."

  "Are you going to teach me to heel, next?"

  "If you're into that kind of thing—I would certainly enjoy it," he wiggled his eyebrows.

  "Grrr, are we back to that? You're completely impossible."