Come Fly With Me

by Sandi Perry

  She looked at him for a second and hit speaker on her phone. She dialed a number and said, "Michael Essex, please, it's Allison Ross."

  A moment later Michael's clipped, precise tones came on the line, "Allison, my darling, don't tell me you're calling to cancel on me this evening?"

  "No, no, of course not, Michael. I was just wondering if you needed any help with the last minute details."

  "How thoughtful of you to offer, but I have a bevy of party planners tripping over one another working on pulling this thing together. So come and enjoy and look as beautiful as ever."

  "Bye, send my love to Kaitlin." Allison clicked the phone off and shot a triumphant look at Alex. "You can leave now."

  He got up and headed wordlessly for the door, "Be careful, Allison, don't make the foolish mistake of allowing your personal feelings to cloud your business judgment."

  "That sounds like a thinly-veiled threat."

  "Take it however it sounds."

  "I bet you'd do just about anything to get this job."

  He gave her a cold stare and shrugged his shoulders in response. "Being ambitious isn't a crime," he said.

  She watched him leave and softly said, "But it could be." And once again she wondered who Alexander Coventry really was.

  ****

  Allison was seated on the top level of the restaurant while she waited for her mother to arrive. She had a great view of the street from her perch and waved enthusiastically at her as she saw her mother cross the street. She came up the stairs looking fresh-eyed, her skin glowing softly. Her mom plopped down in the chair facing her and began to unwind her scarf.

  "I remember those stairs being a little more manageable in the past," she said.

  "Sorry, I should have taken a table downstairs, but it's a little more private up here." She peered closely at her mother, "Did you have a facial? Your skin looks tres magnifique!"

  "Yes," she responded as she reached up to smooth her cheek. "Let's order, I'm famished."

  They placed their orders and Allison looked at her mother expectantly. Her mother twirled her water goblet in response and fiddled with the napkin on her lap.

  "Mother, any specific reason you came into the city today? I'm assuming it wasn't to have lunch with me."

  "I was just thinking the other day how wonderful it must be to be Hillary Clinton," she responded.

  "Ma, you're a Republican," Allison said.

  Her mother waved her hand, "Politics aside, I'm talking about the sheer access to so much power and she doesn't even have to do her own shopping or laundry. She has staff to do these things for her. Imagine Hilary Clinton going to the dry cleaners," she scoffed.

  Allison looked at her incredulously, "Is everything alright?"

  "Yes. Of course, why would you ask that?" She leaned into the table, "Do you think they still sleep together?"

  "Oookay, that's enough. What's really going on?"

  "Actually, I wanted to let you know..." She looked up gratefully at the waiter as he put a plate of pan-seared tuna in front of her. "My, this looks delicious! Doesn't this look delicious, Ally?"

  "You're getting excited over tuna; please tell me this isn't bad news."

  "No, no, no, sweetheart, of course not. I simply wanted to tell you that Michael asked me to help him host Kaitlin's birthday party this evening."

  Allison's mouth fell open, "And you said no, of course."

  "I said yes."

  Allison narrowed her eyes, "And when you came into the city on Tuesday? What was that about?"

  "We had a lovely dinner."

  "I see."

  "It seems that you don't like him."

  "It's not that, although he did take some getting used to in the beginning. I mean you do know the things that are said about him?"

  She nodded.

  "He even tried to make a play for me, although it was a rather feeble attempt."

  "I didn't know that," her mother frowned.

  "Look, you're an adult, do what you want, but the whole thing strikes me as odd."

  "How so?"

  "Well, he's incredibly over-protective of Kaitlin and here he's asked you to help him chaperone twenty-five thirteen year olds? He hardly knows you—it doesn't make any sense." Allison stabbed at her pasta primavera.

  "The way he explained it was that he felt the children might benefit from a mothering touch. He hired some chaperones, a few college kids, but he wanted someone a bit more experienced on hand, just in case."

  "It sounds like he wants you as a St. Bernard rescue dog standing at the ready in case of emergency."

  "I have a feeling anything I tell you about Michael would be treated with utmost suspicion. Is it because I'm older than him? It doesn't bother either of us." She smoothed her hair as she spoke. "Is it because of your father? For the first few months, I walked around in a fog, all my effort was expended simply on putting one foot in front of the other. I spent a lot of time with myself, way too much." She took a breath and continued, "Slowly, I began to notice there was still a world around me. I began to enjoy my glass blowing again, I joined a reading club, but it still felt empty—I felt empty. But I woke up every morning and kept with it, anyway." She straightened her shoulders, fixing her gaze on the server at the adjoining table. "Friday night, when I met Michael it was like a blindfold had been lifted off my eyes. I began to see in color—for the first time in a very long time. Surely, you can understand that. I'm still a young woman, and I'm entitled to live a little. Maybe it's too soon to be spending time with another man, but Michael is intelligent and charming, and he makes me feel alive. And it sure as hell beats spending the evening at home, alone, watching the news."

  "I'm sorry." Allison's eyes welled with tears. "You're absolutely right, and I'm ashamed you had to spell it out for me. I don't know what got into me. I'm surprised. I just never thought you'd be dating someone, that's all. Michael is a good person, an amazing father. He was left with a toddler to raise, and rather than pass off the responsibility to a team of nannies, he rolled up his sleeves, adjusted his schedule and made Kaitlin his priority. Not many men in his position would've done that."

  "Thank you, honey. It means a lot to have your approval. I bought a cute outfit at Bergdorf's earlier. After we have our cheesecake, I'll show it to you."

  "Only you would be willing to try on a new outfit minutes after you ate a slice of cheesecake. I pray my figure looks like yours when I'm your age," Allison smiled.

  Her mother smiled right back, "Cheesecake is one of my guilty pleasures that I refuse to feel guilty about."

  Chapter 38

  Later that day, Allison headed to the Starbucks on Fifth and Forty-Sixth and positioned herself facing the door. She sipped her latte as she collected her thoughts. Her mother had laid a bombshell on her with the Michael thing, and she wondered if their shared interest in powerful men was a function of genetics.

  She'd last seen Ritchie Patrick a week ago when they'd had a quick bite after work, and now she rehearsed what she'd say when he arrived. They'd had a great time at the James Taylor concert, but the fact was, even at fifty-eight, Mr. Taylor was more of a turn-on than Ritchie. His kiss at the door only confirmed it, and as bad as she felt about it, there was only one thing to do about it. A couple of minutes later he walked in, holding the door for a young mother with an unwieldy stroller, helping her maneuver over the step. There he was, the king of affability, not a threatening bone in his body, and she was bored to tears. Hating herself for what she was about to do, she smiled and waved as he took a seat across from her.

  "Hey," she said.

  "Uh, oh, I know what that means."

  "A casual greeting?" She raised her eyebrows.

  "The big brush-off isn't too far behind," he said as he fingered his chin. "Your smile doesn't reach your eyes, and as much as you'd love to like me because I'm incredibly nice, you just can't. I felt it in the kiss.You can release the death grip on your cup, now, I'm not mad."

  "Ritchie," she shook h
er head. "I'm so sorry. There's something wrong with me."

  "I'd have to agree, except I think you're near-perfect. Stop shaking your head and don't tell me I deserve better," he laughed.

  "You're amazing, and I'm crazy. I even sound crazy to myself," she clutched her throat. "But you do deserve better. For instance—"

  "Ouch, no, have mercy—not the set-up."

  She widened her eyes, "How did you know?"

  "I've sat in this seat before. It's fine that it didn't work out, I kinda sensed it from the start. But we started out as friends, and I'd hate to lose that."

  "I would, too." She chewed at her lip and then spoke quickly, "I'm simply informing you that Emily has a crush on you and put it on ice while we dated. Here's her card." She slid it toward him, "How about it?"

  He seemed to mull it over and shrugged his shoulders, "Sure, why not?"

  *****

  Allison stood at the rink at Chelsea Piers and watched the group of boys and girls whirl past her. Michael Essex came up beside her, "You don't want to take a spin on the ice?"

  "I will if you will," she said.

  "It frankly makes no sense to me, what could be interesting about this?"

  "I think it becomes interesting when you fall and a cute guy skates over to help you get back up on your feet," she said as she pointed to the middle of the rink where one of the chaperones was helping a laughing Kaitlin get back on her feet.

  He frowned. "Do you think I'm that guy doing that," he tipped his head at another young boy reaching out his hand, "to your Mum?"

  "I don't know—are you?"

  "I've been wondering about it myself," he said quietly. "Are you okay if we spend time together?"

  "Are you asking my permission?"

  He nodded his head.

  She observed him. "I can't figure you out. You've had me guessing from the start. I know we got off to something of a rocky start, but you know what? You're okay. My mother deserves some companionship from a classy guy who knows how to treat a woman like a lady. One favor, please. Keep your intentions clear and above board."

  He bowed theatrically, "Yes, Mademoiselle, thank you for your blessing. I will take your warning with utmost gravity."

  ****

  The group of twenty-five tweens had made the move from the ice to the party area down the hall. There were food stations set up that were divided into countries featuring each of that nation's specialties. There seemed to be an extra long line at Mexico with tacos and fajitas making a strong presence. Allison was on line with her mother and a couple of other adults at Japan.

  "I guess sushi is a little too sophisticated for thirteen-year olds," Vivienne said.

  "I'm grateful for that—it means more for me," Allison said. "This sashimi is heaven."

  "So, Michael spoke to you?"

  She nodded, "Did you ask him to do that?"

  "Believe it or not, I still feel I need my kids' approval when I do something. I can't decide if that means we have a good relationship or a terrible one."

  "It means you've been a mom longer than you've been anything else, and it's high time you started thinking just about you. Be selfish...it's good for your skin."

  Her mother smiled, "I hope Kaitlin's having a good time. It's hard to tell what makes a thirteen-year old girl happy; I almost feel sorry for Michael."

  "Yeah," Allison agreed, "he has no idea what's about to hit him."

  Chapter 39

  The next afternoon Allison took Kaitlin's birthday present over to the apartment. She was astounded at the tasteful opulence as she was ushered into the expansive entryway. The housekeeper told her to wait for Michael and Kaitlin in the parlor. She was quite sure she had never been in a parlor before, and wondered what she'd been missing.

  "Allison!" Michael's voice rang out cheerfully against the marble floors and was absorbed easily by the thick Persian rug she stood on. She smiled while clutching the oversized painting that she had wrapped earlier that morning in plain brown wrap topped with a large red bow. "Can I offer you something to drink? Some coffee? Pamela, bring Ms. Ross a diet soda."

  "No, please, I'm fine. You said on the phone earlier that it was okay if I brought Kaitlin's present over."

  "Yes, please sit down," Michael gestured to a tailored, cream-colored horsehair sofa that was surprisingly comfortable. "I told the designer she had carte blanche, but I insisted that everything be livable."

  "Well, it's...amazing," Allison agreed.

  He sighed, "It can all be a bit much. Kaitlin refers to it as her prison. And apparently," he pointed to himself. "I'm the warden."

  "What brought this on?"

  "She's thirteen just one day, and she's already locked herself in her room and is threatening never to come out. Maybe she'll talk to you."

  "I don't want to push myself where I don't belong. I mean, only if you're sure."

  "Oh, I'm sure. Please," he gestured with his hand toward the back of the apartment. "It's the second door on your right."

  Allison lumbered down the hall half-carrying, half-dragging the unwieldy canvas and knocked on the door.

  "Go away," was the muffled response.

  "Kaitlin, its Allison."

  A minute later a puffy-eyed thirteen-year old opened the door and then flung herself dramatically back onto the bed. Allison stood awkwardly in the room.

  "Can I move in with you?" Kaitlin asked.

  "Ahh...I hardly think that would be solving anything. What's up?"

  "What's up? What's up! My father is an over-protective megalomaniac!"

  "Hey, careful you have some respect," she paused. "A new vocabulary word?"

  Kaitlin nodded.

  "You still haven't told me what happened."

  "Well, I fell down on the ice last night and Kyle helped me up."

  "Cute Kyle? I saw that."

  "Well, so did my Dad, and the next thing I know he's telling Kyle to keep his hands off of me!"

  Allison started to smile but quickly recovered herself.

  "And then," she continued," my friend Rachel overheard their conversation and told some of the other kids and they were all laughing that my father is never going to let me on a date unless he comes along and the craziest thing is...they're right!" Her eyes sparked as she spoke.

  Allison sat down on the bed next to Kaitlin and stroked her hair. "Sweetie, he's scared and nervous and you're so lovely. He's so out of his realm. Go easy on him. I'll give you a little pointer. When kids start to make fun of you—play along. If you join in and poke fun at yourself or your situation, it takes the sting out of it and the fun goes with it."

  "That sounds like a good idea," she sniffled. "But it doesn't make a difference because I'm never leaving this room."

  "I think you might need to use the bathroom,"

  Kaitlin pointed to a door.

  "Oh, I missed that before. How about food?"

  "Pamela will bring it to me."

  Allison tabled the conversation, "I brought you your present."

  Kaitlin jumped off the bed and stood in front of the gift. "I'm nervous."

  "I think you'll like it; I hope you'll like it."

  Kaitlin unwrapped it slowly, and amid much paper crinkling, let out a shriek. Her father came running down the hall. They stood together wordlessly.

  Allison felt uneasy, "I know it isn't exactly what you had in mind."

  "It isn't," Michael said. "But I think it's the exact perfect thing. What do you think, Kaitlin?"

  "I think it's the one of the most amazing presents I ever got, besides for Jefferson." She noticed Allison's quizzical look, "That's my horse."

  "Well, of course, I can't compete with a horse."

  Kaitlin hugged Allison, almost throwing her off balance. "You're the best. I have to call all my friends."

  "In that case, I'll leave you to it," she said.

  As Michael and Allison walked down the hall, he turned to her and said, "I can't thank you enough. The painting is truly a work of art. I'd never
have thought her profile with her eyes closed, with four variations would be so engaging. You captured her poise, her spirit, her youth, I can't thank you enough."

  "I'm glad you're pleased with the portrait. I know it was a risk, but I went with my instinct. And don't worry, things will work out with her. Just give her some space and be patient!"

  ****

  Allison felt so delighted that Kaitlin and Michael were pleased with her unorthodox portrait that she walked right past Alex as he lounged against the wall in the hallway of her apartment building. He came up behind her, and she jumped when she realized she was no longer alone.

  "Into stalking now, are we?" she bit out as she fought to steady her quickened pulse.

  "I don't like how we left things," he said.

  She began to walk up the stairs, "We left things just fine. Go home, Alex."

  "Go home to my apartment? Or go home to Georgia?"

  When she ignored him, he jumped ahead of her and blocked her path.

  "You don't want to do this with me, Alex. I'm not the vulnerable woman you met eight months. I've got my mojo back."

  "Now that sounds like a drink they serve over at Starbucks," he smiled.

  "Oh, you Southerners are so cute when you act afraid of being citified. Why don't you give daddy a call and see if he has some room for you at any of the twenty different companies that he owns."

  "I think I'll just wait around until you reveal the new CEO, if that's okay with you."

  "Suit yourself, but move out of my way." She continued up the staircase, then stopped and came back down two steps to face him. "You know what your problem is? You can't believe when a woman tells you no. Your mother and sisters have you up on some mighty pedestal and you've believed everything they've told you."

  She continued up and when she was almost at the top, she turned again and looked down at him.

  "Tell me something, Alex—was it always only about the job?"

  "At the beginning it was. Then after a while, I thought maybe we had something."

  "Well, I'm not a happy-endings kind of girl. I'm sure your mother will be relieved." She disappeared into the upstairs hallway and felt Alex's eyes sear a hole into her back. Her hand was shaking as she put her key in the lock. Mojo wasn't all it was cracked up to be.