Winner Takes All

by Sandra Kitt

  “How do you know him?”

  “Farm team.”

  “Do you know anyone you didn’t meet playing sports?”

  “Of course. You,” Patrick said, his voice low, his smile warm.

  Jean returned the smile but was glad her sunglasses hid the creeping blush. “And is he the only one of your friends who didn’t go into broadcasting? And don’t count me.”

  “I won’t. AJ was not as passionate, or as talented, as some of us. When he didn’t make it to the show, he shrugged, turned in his jersey, and joined the Air Force. He learned how to fly, finished a tour in Afghanistan, and came back to establish himself as a private pilot. Pretty cool, eh?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “So, I had this brilliant idea, called him, and he helped me put it together. And…here we are.”

  Jean looked around. “Patrick, we’re on a tarmac inches from the East River. We aren’t anywhere.”

  “Not yet.”

  AJ reappeared.

  “Okay, folks, all aboard. Are you two sitting together in the back?”

  Patrick again put his arm around her shoulders and rubbed her arm, glancing into her face.

  Jean said nothing, looking at him. She was finally just willing to let whatever was going to happen, happen and unfold in its own good time. But her excitement was building.

  “I want Jean to sit with you, at least for a little while. I want her to be able to see everything.”

  “All righty then,” AJ said. He opened the cab door on the left side and provided a stool for Jean to use to climb into the copter. “Patrick, you take the bumper seat.”

  Then AJ got into the pilot seat that was on the right side of the craft. He told Patrick where to find two Bose headsets to help cut down the blade noise while they were in the air. They belted themselves in, and AJ got on his headset, communicating with the office. He started the engine, speaking and listening to instructions, reporting readings from his multiscreen console. Jean felt a subtle movement, and suddenly the craft lifted vertically into the air, rotated the nose north, and took off.

  Jean held her breath. A silly smile spread over her lips. She could hear both AJ and Patrick through her headset. She now knew that without the headset the air noise would have been deafening. For several moments, she could do nothing but stare through the bubble windshield in front of and below her, watching the ground drop away and turning the city’s landscape into a panorama. Before long, Jean realized they were flying up the East River, to the end of Manhattan, heading around the strait toward the Hudson River, and then north.

  She felt Patrick’s hand on her hair. “How are you doing?”

  “Oh, Patrick…” was as far as she got.

  “Pretty cool, right?”

  “It’s more than pretty cool,” Jean said in awe. Beside her, she could detect AJ nodding in agreement.

  Patrick said nothing more, leaving Jean to fully immerse herself in the experience. She craned her neck left and right and straight down, identifying buildings, neighborhoods, parks, and getting a perspective on what the city looked like from above. Within minutes, she realized they were flying over Riverdale, Yonkers, and quickly Tarrytown. Jean gasped, recognizing the neighborhood where she’d grown up. Her gaze searched for and found a focal point and then…identified her street. And then her house.

  “Patrick, that’s my house! There!”

  Behind her, Patrick was chuckling. “Yeah, I see. This is a first for me as well. And there…I see my old house. The one with the double chimney.”

  “I found it.”

  But just as quickly, the copter had flown past, heading north along the Hudson River and the Hudson Valley. Conversation stopped, and she was glad so she could concentrate, absorb, and enjoy what she was seeing. Jean was breathless with the novelty of flight just several hundred feet aboveground, with the knowledge that Patrick had gone to great lengths to give her this experience. This was not a simple trick to impress her. This was an organized effort to give her pleasure. Patrick had actually done far more, as far as she was concerned. He had shown that he was learning a great deal about what pleased her, and he was going the distance to make sure he did that for her.

  He was showing how much he cared.

  It was late afternoon, and the sun was already in the west. The light had a warm yellowy-orange effect on the ground below, with just a few hours remaining until dusk.

  The landscape eventually became more small town and rural. They passed over Albany, and Jean was stunned at how far they’d traveled in under an hour. The copter banked inland, west, and AJ once again communicated with a control point somewhere below. They were approaching Saratoga Springs. Soon they were over an airfield and lowering to the ground.

  Patrick and AJ were quickly out of the copter, the blades still rotating over it and finally stopping. Her door was opened, and Patrick was there to help her out of the craft. He and AJ stood talking for a few minutes, laughing over some private observation, while Jean stood alone, bemused and giddy.

  “Enjoy your adventure,” AJ called out and then got back into the copter.

  Patrick caught her hand, leaning to peer into her face. “Are you going to need oxygen? A drink?”

  “I’m good, Patrick.”

  “Good. Because that was just the beginning.”

  Jean let herself be led and saw a luxury town car waiting just off the landing field. There was an older Black gentleman, the driver, waiting to greet them. Patrick introduced himself and shook the man’s hand.

  “Yes, sir. You’re right on time. Welcome to Saratoga Springs. We have about a fifteen-minute drive. There are refreshments in the basket between the seats in back.”

  “I appreciate that,” Patrick said.

  Jean and Patrick got into the back of the car, and within minutes, they were being driven off the landing site onto a road. The driver chatted with Patrick, using the rearview mirror for face-time. She glanced at Patrick.

  “What next?”

  Patrick wagged a finger at her. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  Jean sighed, and settled next to him. She glanced out the tinted windows and nodded. “Okay,” she responded simply. So far, it was proving to be so much better not knowing.

  * * *

  Patrick was feeling pretty proud of himself. That was, until a litany of possible complications that he hadn’t previously considered made him break out in a sweat. What if Jean had been scared of being closed in, in a low-flying craft? What if she’d suddenly experienced claustrophobia? Or gotten motion sick?

  “It’s pretty here,” Jean murmured.

  Patrick sighed and relaxed. She was enjoying herself. “I thought you’d really like being able to find your childhood home.”

  She beamed at him. “Yes, that was special. I never realized we lived so close.”

  I did, he thought.

  They chatted about the helicopter flight, and Patrick filled in Jean with more information on AJ.

  “Have you remained friends with everyone you’ve ever met in your life?”

  Patrick chortled and briefly shook his head. “Not everybody. Let’s not forget a very angry ex-girlfriend who’s suing me. Or an ex-wife who has accused me of ruining her Olympic chances. What else is going to happen?”

  “Don’t think about it. Don’t look for trouble. You’ll find it if you do.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  Jean turned to regard him suddenly through her dark glasses. “Can you at least tell me the reason for all the secrecy? I mean, I admit I’m loving it. It’s like being on an active scavenger hunt. Really fun, but it’s so…elaborate.”

  “As long as you’re enjoying yourself. The thing is, I just wanted to do something that was fun. And different. Something I wouldn’t have thought of doing six months ago. AJ’s been asking me. Now it not only see
ms special; I get to do it with you. Maybe it seems over the top, a little wild, but I can afford it. I don’t have to sweat the cost. It’s taken me some time to get here, Jean, to figure out it’s okay to have a lot of money. I want to enjoy myself. No pun intended, but I wanted you to come along for the ride.”

  She was quiet for a while, staring out the window before suddenly resting her hand on his thigh in an affectionate gesture. “I’m glad you asked me, Patrick.”

  When the town car turned onto the driveway of what appeared to be a stately, formal property, Jean’s attention was once again piqued. There was a sign that announced the site as the Saratoga Spa State Park. Jean glanced at Patrick, but he was only sparing her the briefest look, a slight smile indicating that, again, he knew he was about to surprise her. She kept her silence, having already learned that he held his secrets—and surprises—very close.

  The town car pulled up in front of a federal-style portico, with a small building behind the columns. The driver quickly got out to open the back passenger doors and to assist Jean in getting out. She looked around, trying to guess at the nature of the grounds, confused by the use of spa and park in the same title.

  “This is good.” Patrick nodded to the driver.

  “I’ll be right here waiting for you,” the driver said without prompting.

  “We’ll be back in about forty minutes.” Patrick turned to her, holding out his hand. She took it, already excited by the ongoing segments of the day’s adventure. And she was feeling ridiculously happy with all of it.

  “We’re going on a tour that will tell you a little about this place.”

  “Okay.”

  His brows rose above his sunglasses, askance. “What? No questions? Have you given up?”

  She grinned at him. “I know better. Questions are futile, and you’re enjoying yourself too much, keeping me in the dark.”

  “I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

  “I haven’t been, so far.”

  The driver grinned at them and waved goodbye.

  Inside the pavilion, Jean and Patrick were guided into a very small screening alcove with benches. As soon as they were seated, the lights dimmed and a video began. Jean was quickly caught up in the narration of the history of Saratoga Springs and its famous and therapeutic mineral waters. Jean was fascinated by all the ways the waters were reputed to be great for health, skin, digestion, and stress. She and Patrick briefly exchanged glances, and she knew he was thinking that, according to his mother, cuddling also served the purpose.

  When they left the pavilion, they were given small disposable cups and a walking map showing the location of actual springs where they could, as the saying goes, “take the waters.” They tried only a few, Jean sipping tentatively at the slightly salty, carbonated taste.

  “How did you know about this place?” Jean asked. “Why Saratoga Springs?”

  “My family used to come up during the summer. Not every summer, and only for a week. But it was pretty, and there’re hiking and bike trails all over the place. My dad and I would go fishing; my mom loved the performing arts center.”

  “What about your sister?”

  Patrick chuckled silently and shook his head. “She spent a lot of time flirting with all the cute guys who were summer help at the hotel or lying around the pool hoping to be noticed…”

  “It’s beautiful up here. I don’t think I’ve ever been in this part of the state. And it’s really not that far from the city, is it?”

  “No,” Patrick said, turning them back toward the entrance to the park. “I thought if you liked it up here, we might try out some other towns. We’re not that far from Cooperstown.”

  Jean tugged on his hand. “That’s where the Baseball Hall of Fame is.”

  “Right,” Patrick said in some astonishment.

  “See? I do know something about sports,” Jean said proudly.

  Patrick burst out laughing. “Sorry. Knowing about the Hall of Fame doesn’t count. But I am impressed.”

  They got back into the waiting town car, and the driver, already having his instructions and Patrick’s itinerary, drove not out of the park through the open gate, but farther into the interior. In less than ten minutes, they were approaching the Roosevelt Baths and Spa. They had appointments for the mineral baths, twenty minutes immersed in effervescent temperatures of 97 to 105 degrees. They were told that their skin would be smooth and soft as a baby’s afterward.

  “I guess I could have arranged a cruise for just us on the Circle Line around Manhattan”—Patrick laughed lightly—“and we are pretty much alone. I definitely wanted that.”

  Jean stared at Patrick for what he’d stated. She never would have thought of anything like this. Not even close. And certainly, she would not have had the means to pay for any of it. It wasn’t the cost, whatever it was, that made Jean thoughtful; it was that Patrick had planned and executed a complex and, yes, costly adventure. And he had done so for her.

  The baths were supposed to be individualized, to give each client maximum privacy. But Patrick had other ideas in mind. They left their things in lockers, were given plush robes and slippers, and were led to the bath facility. But the moment they had been left alone, Patrick deserted his private lair to sneak into hers. Jean gasped at first, at his audacity, but was tickled by his shameless and daring bending of the rules. And there was no question that it was infinitely more fun to be buoyed and weightless in the hot, steamy water in each other’s arms. There was a lot of kissing and laughter, but they thought better of anything else for fear of being interrupted. Which did happen when an attendant came to make sure everything was all right. Panic ensued when Patrick was found to be missing from his bath, followed by sly laughter when another attendant figured out his whereabouts.

  “I bet we weren’t the first couple to get creative,” Patrick said as they dressed. They tipped the attendants and left, once again getting into their private car.

  Twilight had settle over the land when their last stop brought them to the Gideon Putnam, the second spa resort inside the park, where they had a quiet, intimate dinner out on the terrace.

  Jean was not surprised when prosecco was served with dinner. She was not surprised when, as they shared a rich, gooey dessert, Patrick made a call to arrange for their helicopter transport back to the city. She was deeply moved when Patrick sighed at the end of their meal, smiled warmly at her, and said simply, “This was fun.”

  “I don’t see how you can top this,” Jean said in some wonder.

  Patrick reached to lightly stroke her arm. “Want to make a bet?”

  Jean shook her head. “I don’t need to.”

  She looked out over the land, already shrouded in night, except where the sunlight was turning to royal blue below the horizon, a fantasy end to a perfect day. That was the primary reason for Jean feeling breathless and hopeful. She was always aware that Patrick, being Patrick, could be with anyone. The distant past—and present—attested to that fact. The awareness was never far away, with the constant incoming texts and messages and calls blowing up his devices, that he was popular…and desired. But he was here with her, with the once-blue sky now mostly a midnight black. And faintly, starting to appear overhead, the stars.

  * * *

  “I hope you have a good reason for throwing me over last weekend. Must have been quite a date. Anyone I’ve met?”

  “Daddy, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be, honey. I guess now we’re even. One for one,” Seth Travis said.

  Jean could hear her father’s amusement in his voice. She relaxed but left her office to continue the call in as much privacy as she could find.

  “I will only say that the change of plans was so worth it. Sorry. You’re not mad at me, are you?”

  “Man, you do feel guilty, don’t you? Honey, I could never be mad at you. I’m usually the one hard to pin dow
n so we can spend time together. Don’t worry about it. I’m probably going to be in and out of New York most of the summer.”

  “Will you be seeing Mom?” she asked, also trying not to be nosy.

  “Probably. I have some things to discuss with her. You and I will get together another time. So, who is this guy?”

  “I never said there was a…a guy.”

  “You don’t have to, baby. I recognize all the moves. But I can tell you’re not ready to talk about it. I’ll stop teasing you.”

  “It’s okay. You don’t know him, I don’t think.”

  “Are you going to give me anything to go on?”

  “No. It’s still too early. And…”

  “You don’t want your dad sizing him up before there’s a reason to? Is that it?”

  “Has anyone ever told you you should be a lawyer?”

  Jean’s father burst out laughing over the phone, delighted with the obvious comparison.

  “Love you, honey. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Love you, Daddy. Bye.”

  * * *

  Patrick nodded and smiled at the executive assistant outside the station manager’s office as he approached her desk. She never asked what he wanted, and Patrick offered no explanation for his sudden appearance. There was no scheduled meeting or last-minute summons. The woman merely raised a brow of acknowledgment before turning to her PC.

  “Go on in, Patrick. But he has an appointment in twenty minutes.”

  “Thanks,” Patrick said. He opened the office door and entered.

  The spectacled man behind the desk looked the part of a midlevel manager. He wasn’t yet middle-aged but was already starting to paunch. His gaze held a perpetual stare of someone either expecting bad news or being asked to explain something he couldn’t. Unlike more combative and ego-driven managers of the past, he’d learned the sure way to keeping his job was by not putting anything in writing he didn’t have to, hedging his yeses and noes, and generally staying under the radar.

  When he looked up and saw Patrick standing in the doorway, he blinked a number of times and, heavily, sat back in his chair in an attempt to look authoritative.