Come Fly With Me (40 page)

Allison
punched
his
arm,
"You
did
not
take
a
nap—your
eyes
were
open
the
whole
time."

Jeremy
looked
at
her
and
smiled,
"It's
a
trick
I
learned
when
I
was
a
first-year
resident—I
can
sleep
with
my
eyes
open.
You
want
to
see?"

"That's
so
not
funny,
Jeremy,
keep
your
eyes
opened
and
focused
on
the
road,
please."

"Bossy,
bossy."

"It
doesn't
matter
if
Paul's
boring,
we
simply
need
someone
very
familiar
with
the
business
who
can
keep
it
running,"
Allison
said.

"I
don't
agree.
Dad
was
such
a
charismatic
man,
and
he
built
the
company
with
his
own
hands.
It
would
take
a
hit
if
such
an
unimaginative
person
were
at
the
helm.
What
about
the
two
other
board
members?"

"You
mean
'Dull'
and
'Duller'?"

"All
right,"
he
replied
with
a
catch
of
laughter
in
his
voice.
"How
about

the
guy
I
met
at
the
We
Care
auction—wasn't
his
name
Alexander
Coventry?"

Allison
told
him
about
the
time
she'd
spent
with
Alex
in
Buckhead,
and
especially
relished
sharing
the
stolen
newspaper
story
with
him.

Jeremy
nodded
as
he
pulled
into
the
driveway
and
cut
the
engine,
"I
think
I
like
this
guy.
He
has
balls,
he's
creative,
and
most
importantly,
he
has
something
to
prove
to
his
father.
And
you
and
I
both
know
that's
reason
number
one
for
success."

****

The
next
morning
Allison
was
sitting
at
the
kitchen
table
sipping
her
first
coffee
of
the
day.
Her
mother
came
in
the
room,
"I
see
you
found
some
old
albums,"
she
said
as
she
peered
over
Allison's
shoulders
to
take
a
peek.
She
poured
herself
a
mug
full
of
the
aromatic
liquid.
"Um,
so
delicious.
I
forgot
what
it
was
like
to
come
down
in
the
morning
and
have
the
coffee
already
made."

Allison
put
down
the
album.
"You're
so
amazing;
it's
hard
to
remember
you
have
needs,
too.
I
haven't
always
been
the
easiest
child."
She
smiled
and
shook
her
head,
looking
at
a
picture
of
herself
at
five
years
old
with
her
back
to
the
camera.

Her
mother
joined
her
at
the
table.
"Yes,
I
remember
that,
you
absolutely
refused
to
face
the
camera
and
your
father
took
the
picture
anyway
so
you
could
see
what
he
had
to
deal
with."

"And
it
got
a
lot
worse,"
Allison
added.
"I
always
fought
with
him,
even
at
such
a
young
age.
I
can't
figure
out
how
that
all
started."

"Let's
see,"
her
mother
said
as
she
tightened
her
robe.
"You
were
strong-willed
and
fiercely
independent
and
your
father
wanted
things
done
his
way
and
right
away.
It
was
a
recipe
for
disaster."

"And
then,
when
I
got
older,
I
resented
him
appearing
from
time
to
time
to
bark
orders
and
then
wonder
why
they
weren't
being
followed."

"Well,
your
father
was
very
busy,
first
starting
up
RossAir
and
then
trying
to
grow
it.
It
wasn't
easy
on
any
of
us."

"But
I
could
have
made
it
easier
if
I
wanted
to."

"I
guess.
And
your
father
could
have
as
well,"
she
sighed

Allison
looked
at
her
mother,
"But
for
all
of
it,
I
never
doubted
that
I
was
very
much
loved."

"And
still
are.
You
know,
as
you
go
through
life
you
make
certain
assumptions.
As
a
young
girl,
growing
up
I
always
assumed
I'd
get
married
and
have
the
wedding
of
my
dreams.
Then
I
assumed
I
would
have
a
beautiful
family."
She
smiled
at
Allison,
"And
then,
as
the
family
grew
up
I
assumed
they'd
get
married.
I
always
had
visions
of
your
father
and
me
walking
you
down
the
aisle."
She
paused,
her
voice
catching,
"I
always
assumed
we'd
grow
old
together."

Allison
sipped
her
now
cold
coffee.
"I
can't
imagine
how
hard
this
must
be
for
you.
Dad's
gone,
but
it's
odd.
Everything
here
feels
perfectly
the
same
to
me—like
nothing's
missing.
Every
picture
on
the
wall
has
Dad
in
it
looking
robust
and,"
she
paused,
"alive.
We're
a
smiling,
happy
family,
frozen
in
a
moment
of
time."
She
took
her
mother's
hands
in
hers,
"But
you
sit
here
every
night
and
eat
dinner
by
yourself,
and
I'm
in
the
city,
sitting
at
his
desk.
It
feels
so
wrong."