Come Fly With Me (79 page)

"They're
a
cute
couple.
Your
mother
looks
enamored.
And
so
does
he,
come
to
think
of
it,"
Kenyon
said.

"They're
not
a
couple;
she's
much
older
than
him.
He
dates
twenty-five
year
olds."

Kenyon
smiled,
"And
your
mom
is
about
ten
years
older
than
him?
Cougars
are
all
the
rage,
now.
Ashton
and
Demi
started
off
a
good
trend."

"She's
not
a
cougar;
she's
my
mother,"
Allison
bit
out.

"That
could
be
the
new
version
of
the
old
classic,"
Kenyon
sang,
"
She's not heavy, she's my
mother...
"

"Here,"
she
thrust
the
envelope
at
him.
"Do
something
useful.
Put
this
on
my
desk
for
me.
I
have
some
paintings
to
sell."

A
headache
was
beginning
to
form
and
Allison
was
about
to
go
to
her
office
to
get
an
aspirin
when
she
spotted
Bradley.
He'd
come
out
of
his
shell
to
a
limited
degree,
but
still
had
a
long
way
to
go
if
he
was
going
to
make
it
in
New
York.
Allison
thought
her
good
deed
for
the
year
would
be
to
introduce
him
around,
maybe
shore
up
his
confidence
with
some
new
names
to
add
to
his
contacts
list.

"Bradley,
thank
you
for
coming."

He
smiled,
"It
was
nice
of
you
to
include
me.
I
didn't
expect
it."

"Well,
you're
trying,
so
I
am
too.
I
was
about
to
head
into
my
office
to
get
a
couple
of
aspirin,
could
you
walk
me
back?"

They
made
their
way
through
the
crowd
and
every
so
often
Allison
casually
stopped
and
introduced
Bradley.
They
walked
into
the
calm
of
the
office,
and
Allison
breathed
a
loud
sigh.

"I
take
it
you're
not
much
of
a
crowd
person?"
he
asked.

"I
hate
crowds.
I
prefer
my
own
company
most
of
the
time.
And
it's
worse
when
it's
self-inflicted,"
she
frowned.

He
stood
awkwardly
at
the
door,
"Me
too,
I
hate
crowds."

"It
isn't
good."

"What
isn't?
What
do
you
mean?'

"We're
introverts,
you
and
I.
We
spend
too
much
time
reflecting
and
being
self-absorbed.
Being
in
tune
with
yourself
is
a
good
thing,
but
not
when
it
acts
as
a
substitution
for
real
company.
I
find
it's
easier
to
withdraw
than
deal,
it
seems
we're
similar
in
that
regard,"
she
said,
observing
him
closely.

She
proffered
a
bottle
of
water,
but
he
shook
his
head.
It
was
time
to
take
a
gamble.
"I
have
some
charcoal
sketches
here
that
are
particular
favorites
of
mine.
I'd
like
to
show
them
to
you."
She
pulled
out
a
flat
oversized
folder,
laid
it
down
on
the
desk,
and
studied
his
expression,
as
he
looked
them
over
carefully.

Finally
he
spoke.
"There's
an
enormous
amount
of
sadness
in
these
sketches.
The
faces
are
weather-beaten
and
scarred.
They're
haunting.
Did
you
do
them?'

She
looked
at
him,
startled.
"Why
did
you
ask
that?"

"I've
seen
some
of
your
doodles
at
the
office
and
the
strokes
are
sure
and
practiced.
I
assumed
you
have
some
sort
of
talent."

She
shook
her
head.
"No,
I
didn't
draw
them,
but
our
grandfather
did."

He
stiffened
imperceptibly,
"I
think
I
should
be
getting
back
to
the
party.
It's
only
right
that
I
congratulate
your
mother
on
her
work."

"She's
your
aunt,"
Allison
said
softly.

"Sorry,
but
it
doesn't
feel
that
way."
He
turned
to
go.

She
spoke
to
his
back,
"Maybe
with
time
you
will
come
to
feel
like
you're
part
of
the
family."

His
response
was
to
shrug
his
shoulders
as
he
opened
the
door
to
let
himself
out
and
the
noise
in.

****

"A
little
over
to
the
right,
ahh,
that's
the
spot,"
Allison
was
sprawled
out
on
her
sofa
with
her
feet
propped
up
on
Kenyon's
lap.
He
was
massaging
her
right
foot
and
she
was
in
heaven.
"I
love
high
heels,
but
I'm
crippled
after
wearing
them
for
a
few
hours.
Thanks,
you're
a
lifesaver."

"You're
welcome,
and
I
must
say
I
loved
the
dress
you
wore
tonight.
The
pleated
silvery
silk
looked
like
flowing
water
when
you
walked,
and
the
bare
shoulders
almost
made
up
for
covering
up
your
gorgeous
sexy
legs.
With
a
thigh
high
slit,
it
would
have
been
perfect."