by Tara Wylde
I hadn’t ignored anything. The text hadn’t shown up, which isn’t surprising since my mom has never been able to figure out how to use her cell phone properly.
“It’s going to be okay.” I say the words more for myself than for her. They don’t really calm me down. “I’ll take care of the problem and then pay any bills that are outstanding, and everything will be okay.”
“Sure, it will.” My mom sounds even less convinced than I feel. I wonder how she’d react if she knew just how dire our financial situation really is. If those checks don’t make it into my account and soon, we’re going to be looking up at poor.
Needing some space and cheer, I move away from the dishwasher and head toward the far end of the trailer. “I’m going to go say hi to Sally.”
Cassie
I knock on my sister’s bedroom door but don’t bother waiting before pushing it open. “Hey Sally. Are you awake?”
My sister’s room is as depressing as the rest of the property. The carpet was once a pretty rose pink, but it faded into a non-descript color several years ago. A single bookcase is crammed with coloring books, handheld games, and DVDs. The bed is pressed against one wall, and the only other furniture is a threadbare La-Z-Boy.
My older sister is sitting by the dirty streaked window watching a small flock of Old World sparrows play in the tree on the other side.
Her head snaps around and her eyes go wide as saucers.
“Cassie, you’re back.” My heart clenches at her slightly slurred words and my shoulders sag in relief.
My biggest fear whenever I’m away from home because of work is that Sally will have an episode and that she’ll lose the ability to remember who I am.
I hurry across the room and drop to my knees beside her chair. I wrap my arms around her thin shoulders and hug her tightly. Usually she resists, but not this time. After a moment’s hesitation, her long, boney arms lift up and wrap around my neck.
“How’d it go while I was gone?”
Sally wrinkles her nose. “The usual. Rhonda came over once a week and we exercised.” She speaks slowly and, despite her best efforts to speak clearly, her words have a slurred quality. “I didn’t like it.”
“You never do.” Sally hates physical therapy. I figure that’s a good sign, that the fact it makes her miserable means it’s probably working. “How was Mom?”
“Mom drank a lot and yelled more than normal, but it wasn’t a big deal.” Sally fumbles with the bottom of her sweatshirt. “She left me alone.”
My mom always leaves Sally alone. She can’t stand to see how her daughter, the one who once won beauty pageants and earned top grades, has turned out. My mother has never been the nicest of people, but she didn’t turn completely hateful until after Sally’s accident. When I’m home, she spends the entire time actively avoiding Sally, even though she’s officially supposed to be her live-in caretaker.
Thankfully, Rhonda Pearson, a certified nurse who specializes in home care for those with special needs, comes over every other day for a few hours. She makes sure Sally is fed, bathed, and gets the therapy needed to stay mobile. I don’t know what I’d do without her.
“Are you home for a long time?” Sally asks.
Her question makes me grin. Sally has no concept of time. For her, one day and one month are both a long time.
I push a strand of hair behind my ear.
“According to the schedule, I have a week off.” Though if Northwest actually lets me have all seven days off, I’ll probably die of shock.
“Can you take me to Lopeck’s?” Sally stares up at me with wide, scared eyes. Lopeck’s Farm is her favorite place. Sometimes when I’m flying, I’m able to hire someone to take her, but most of the time she has to stay home until I return. To make up for it, we spend as much time at Lopeck’s as possible when I’m around. It beats hanging out here with my mother.
“I have to go to the airport in the morning.” Sally’s lower lip trembles. “But it should only be for a short time. When I get back, I’ll take you to Lopeck’s, okay?”
Sally’s trademark grin spreads across her face. “Okay.” After a second her smile slips a little. She reaches out and touches my cheek.
“Cassie,” she whispers. “You look different.”
“Really?” I arch a brow and lean back a little to give her the space needed to really look at me. “How so?”
Sally cocks her head to the side. “You look lonely.”
I chuckle. “Oh, baby girl. I’ve got my best sister right here with me. How can I possibly be lonely?”
Sally beams. “True.”
I hug Sally a second time, but even as I do, I can’t help wondering what it would be like if I hadn’t cut Ronan loose.
Ronan
My parents live in what we often describe as the Smith Family Compound. It’s a large sprawling building just outside of San Antonio that sits on twenty acres of unused land. Even though I haven’t actually lived here since I was eighteen, it still feels more like home than the large house I purchased right after I graduated from college with a brand-new degree in aeronautic engineering.
I park the truck near the vehicles that belong to my sister and brother. Noting the time, I grimace as I leap from the truck’s cab and jog across the yard.
“Well, lookee here.” Emmet’s voice echoes throughout the giant entrance hall as soon as I push the front door open and let myself into the house. “It’s the great white pilot, back from an epic journey.”
I glare at him as I toe my boots off. “Very funny, Emmet.”
Grinning, he claps a hand to my back, the force of the blow nearly making me stumble. “Not nearly as funny as you working for a living. I still don’t understand what got into you.”
Before I can respond, my mother steps into view. Her eyes lock with mine and one of her perfectly groomed brows drifts upwards. “It’s about time you graced us with your presence.”
Matilda McNaughton-Smith, Tildy to her friends, which include her manicurist, hair dresser, and personal stylist, is not the warmest of women. She comes from a long line of old money and traces her lineage all the way back to the first American settlers. My father married her not so much for love, but because at the time he had political aspirations and she had all the qualities of a good politician’s wife. Even though my father never did step into the political ring, my mother continues to always put her best foot forward.
When we were growing up, my mom was more than happy to leave us in the care of nannies and boarding schools. My childhood memories of my mother are of a pretty woman who trotted us out when we had guests and spent a few minutes cooing over us and praising our accomplishments before sending us on our way again. I don’t think it was because she didn’t like us, but rather that she wasn’t sure how to respond to us.
Now that we’re adults, she actually enjoys spending limited amounts of time with us, which is why she created this weekly family dinner. All immediate family members who are in the state are expected to attend.
“Sorry, Mom.” I step forward and place a soft kiss on her cheek. A cloud of expensive perfume fills my nostrils. “I really was working.”
“And consorting with Italian hotties,” Emmet adds.
I shoot him a dark glare that only causes his shit-eating grin to expand.
My mom’s eyes narrow. She reaches up and grabs hold of my chin, forcing me to make eye contact with her. “Is this true? Were you really having dalliances when you told me you were working?”
“He was,” Emmet says, loving the fact that I’m in the hot seat. It’s usually him that has to deal with at least one and sometimes even both parents’ ire during our family dinners. “I called him right after you told me that he’d gone and gotten himself a job. He had to hide in the bathroom because some chick was in his bed.”
“Ronan James Smith,” my mother snarls. “How dare you? I’ve been telling everyone that you’ve finally found a job, that you’re starting to settle down, and now I learn that you
lied to me. That you just want to keep partying and carousing. I’m so disappointed in you right now.”
“I didn’t lie,” I protest. “I really am working for Northwest as a commercial pilot. Emmet doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Like usual.”
My mother isn’t convinced, but she decides to let the subject matter drop.
“Dinner is on the table,” she says, and her voice sounds as cold as ice. “Everyone is waiting on the two of you. Now move.”
As much as I want to rip out Emmet’s throat, I set my jaw and follow my mother into the dining room. There’ll be time enough to kill my brother after we eat.
As expected, the entire family is there. My sister, Siobhan, is dressed in a pretty sky-blue sun dress and seated next to her current boyfriend. I search my brain. He’s a doctor, currently in the middle of his residency, and shows signs of being a hot shot at something, though I don’t remember his specialty. She’s been dating him a few months now, which must mean he’s special. Up until now, she’s always had a love ‘em and leave ‘em attitude, not all that different from Emmet and myself.
Thinking about my sister’s relationship reminds me of Cassie. I can’t believe she dumped me. She might not have given me any choice in the matter before she drove off, but if she thinks I’m going to just roll over and accept her decision without a fight, or at the very least a damn good explanation, she can think again. As soon as I have a battle plan worked out, I’m confronting her.
My dad is seated at the head of the table. Last summer he had a heart attack that left the whole family shaken. He’s always been this larger than life person, always on the go, always active. Until then, he’d never had a single health problem. He’s a little more careful about what he eats and he tries to avoid stress, but other than that, he’s back to his old self.
I grin at the woman seated across from my sister’s boyfriend. Aunt Evie. My paternal grandfather’s younger sister. At least ninety years old, though she refuses to tell anyone her real age, claiming that it’s none of our business, she’s still full of life, more active and healthier than many people who are half her age.
Last year, just after his own health scare, my dad managed to convince her to move into one wing of the family compound, so we could watch over her. She complied, reluctantly, and then proceeded to act as insane as she possibly could.
Before I left, she’d completely scandalized a housekeeper and my mother when they caught her sunbathing in the middle of the yard, while wearing nothing but a pair of oversized bedazzled sunglasses and her birthday suit.
“Ronan,” Evie cries out as soon as she spots me. Her entire face lights up. “You’re back.”
“I’m back.” I close the short distance between us, bending to hug and kiss Evie before taking the seat next to her.
Siobhan props her chin in her hand and studies me with her ice blue eyes. “How come you’re only now gracing us with our presence? You were supposed to be back more than a week ago.”
“He promised he’d make last week’s dinner,” my mother sputters, speaking just loud enough that everyone at the table hears and knows she’s not happy.
I quickly explain the crazy way that Northwest handles schedules.
“I’m so jealous of you, boy.” Evie sighs and squeezes my hand. “I’d give anything to be able to be able to spend all that time in a plane again.”
Everyone agrees that I got my love of flying from Evie. She’s completely plane mad. Not only had she learned to fly, she’d competed in various competitions, taught others, including me, how to fly, and also did a stint as a professional crop dusting pilot. For over thirty years, she ran one of the most successful flight schools in the country. Evie’s school not only turned out a high number of successful pilots, it also employed more female pilots than any other flight school in the state.
Two months ago, I took her up in one of my private planes and she took over the controls. She might be old, but she still knows her way around a plane.
A sudden thought occurs to me.
“Aunt Evie. Northwest Airlines. Why did Grandpa buy so many stocks in the company when it was in the start-up phase? It’s not the kind of thing he usually invested in, is it?”
Evie chuckles and shakes her head. “Certainly not. My brother, God bless him, didn’t know a damn thing about planes.”
My dad pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. “I’d completely forgotten that the Smith family even has stocks in an airline.”
“Your father probably forgot about them as soon as the sale was complete,” Evie tells my dad. “Wyatt Hascher had been a student at my flight school. Nice kid, though not the brightest I’d ever met. He was a decent pilot. What I liked about him was his attitude. He had a can-do approach to everything, and he was also a kind soul. He had an idea to start a commercial airline but lacked capital, so I persuaded my brother to help him out.”
Evie’s gaze swings back to me. “Seems fitting that my grand nephew is a part of the same company.”
I frown at her. “I hate to say this, Aunt Evie, but I think there’s something rotten happening at Northwest.”
“Emmet said the company isn’t doing well,” my dad chimes in. “I keep meaning to check it out, but I confess, it hasn’t been my first priority.”
“Not doing well would be a step up,” I explain. “When I was looking at the company’s reports, they barely have enough capital to keep their planes in the air. They probably should have closed down a year or two ago, but for some reason they keep limping along.”
“I want to see for myself.” Aunt Evie sets her fork down and crosses her arms over her chest. “Wyatt died about fifteen years ago.” She takes a moment to think. “He had pancreatic cancer and by the time they caught it, it had spread throughout his body, there wasn’t anything the doctors could do but keep him comfortable. His son, Joe, took over the company. I was never fond of Joe. If he’s run the company his dad managed to build into the ground, I’ll … I’ll … I’ll—” She snatches the fork back up and brandishes it like a sword. “I’ll teach him just how scary an old lady with a fork can really be.”
Actually, Aunt Evie’s eyes and thoughts would be really helpful, but …
“I’d love to have you check things out, but if I bring you there, someone’s bound to recognize you and that’ll blow my cover. I figure they’re less likely to try to hide something if they think I’m just another pilot, whereas if they find out that I’m a member of the family who owns a large portion of stock, they might decide to get sneaky.”
“How’ve you managed to keep that from them for this long?” My sister’s boyfriend, I think his name is Trey, asks. “Your entire family is pretty famous, especially in San Antonio.”
“Most people don’t recognize my face. They just think I look vaguely familiar. And the only people who use my real first name, Ronan, are family and close friends. Everyone else knows me as James Smith. And since Ronan is the name on my pilot’s license and Social Security card, no one has put it together.” Though I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.
“Have you figured out why the company has lost so much money?” With that question, Emmet actually sounds like a real businessman. “So you can give up this stupidity and stop working.” So much for sounding businesslike.
“No. I haven’t had a chance to look at their books and compare what they have in assets and liquid cash with what they’re reporting. From what I’m seeing of the planes and everything else connected to the company, it’s in trouble.”
I hesitate a second before continuing. “I think Northwest is up to something. Some of the flights I made, they were really rushed, and I swear I saw members of the same maintenance crew at both Morocco and Berlin airports. There’s no way Northwest would shuffle maintenance people around like that. It’d cost too much money. And why make so many last-minute changes only to have us fly a plane that’s less than half full? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Wait a minute. Did you say Berlin?�
�� Siobhan asks.
“Yeah. I was there—” I count backwards. “—eight days ago. But only for a few hours. Then we flew to Atlanta and then Colorado.”
“Hey.” Siobhan digs her elbow into Trey’s ribs. “Weren’t you just telling me about something strange that happened in Berlin?”
Trey chews a piece of steak. He swallows before answering. “Yeah, someone broke into the zoo there.”
“The zoo? Really?” My mother sounds intrigued. “Why would anyone break into a zoo?”
“Drugs,” Aunt Evie chortles. “That’s the reason people do everything. They either want to steal drugs or money so they can buy drugs. I bet there are some prime drugs at a zoo.”
“It wasn’t drugs,” Trey says. “I think the thieves stole some monkeys.”
“Monkeys?” Emmet asks. “That has to be some sort of hoax. Why would anyone steal a monkey from a zoo?”
“That’s easy,” Aunt Evie says. “They stole the monkeys from the zoo so they can train them to steal drugs.” She purses her lips a second and thinks. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Monkeys are smart. You can train them to do all sorts of things. And if the monkey gets caught in the act, and it’s a stolen monkey, how are the cops going to trace it back to the owners, or thieves, in this case?”
I stare at my elderly aunt.
After a moment, she turns her head to look at me and raises a brow. “What?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t know you had such a criminal mind.”
Her grin stretches all the way across her face. Her pretty eyes sparkle merrily above it. “Boy, there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”
I don’t doubt it for a second.
“It didn’t have anything to do with drugs. Hang on and I’ll find the article.” Trey drags his cell phone out of his pocket. “If I remember correctly it was money.”
“Ah,” Aunt Evie chuckles. “They’re going to train the monkeys to rob banks.”
Trey fiddles with his screen.