Come Fly With Me (13 page)

“I’m
not
sure
I
can
do
this,
Ken,”
she
whispered.

“I
am.
It’s
just
the
exhaustion
talking
now.
And
when
people
offer
to
help,
surprise
yourself
by
accepting
it.
You
don’t
have
to
be
the
hero.
Just
text
me
your
request
for
baked
goods
in
the
morning,
so
I’ll
make
sure
to
have
all
the
proper
ingredients.”

She
managed
a
watery
smile.

“Let
me
tuck
you
into
bed.”

“Would
you
please?
My
legs
have
turned
into
jelly.”

He
gently
guided
her
toward
the
partitioned
rear
of
the
loft
that
served
as
bedroom
space.
He
pulled
a
tank
top
and
p.j.
bottoms
from
a
drawer
and
handed
them
to
her.
He
turned
his
back.

“Are
you
sure
you
can’t
do
this
for
me?
I’m
dropping.”

“No
way.
I’m
only
going
to
undress
you
when
I
know
you’re
awake
enough
to
enjoy
it.”

“You
know,
bi-sexuality
was
a
fictitious
invention
of
the
eighties
when
closeted
gay
people
were
afraid
to
venture
too
far
out
of
the
closet.”

Ken
turned
around
with
a
big
smile
on
his
face.
“I
can
assure
you,
bi-sexuals
are
alive
and
well.
The
only
reason
you
don’t
hear
about
them
is
that
gay
people
nowadays
are
afraid
to
admit
they
like
to
switch
hit.
It
sounds
disloyal.”
He
pulled
back
the
fluffy
duvet
and
plumped
her
pillow.

“Why
are
all
the
good
men
gay?
I
must
be
really
tired
if
I’m
speaking
in
clichés.”

“You’re
actually
speaking
in
your
sleep.
Good
night
wee
one,”
he
said
as
he
shut
the
light.
He
walked
into
the
kitchen
area,
wrapped
up
the
remains
of
the
cake,
popped
it
in
the
freezer
and
let
himself
out.

*****

An eleven-year-old Allison was sitting at the top of the ten-foot cliff, the waters of Bar Harbor swirling softly below. She clapped her hands together.

“Do it again! Do it again!”she urged excitedly
.
But this time it was her father taking the plunge.

“No!”
she
shouted,
waking
herself
up.
Her
heart
pounded,
and
she
felt
drenched
in
sweat
as
she
jumped
from
the
bed.
She
raced
around
the
loft
switching
on
the
lights.
It
had
been
many
years
since
she’d
had
the
nightmare.
She
pulled
on
a
sweatshirt
and
made
a
fresh
pot
of
coffee.
Her
hands
shook
as
she
took
a
few
calming
sips
from
her
favorite
Hershey's
mug.
Her
nerves
sang
as
she
aimlessly
walked
around
the
loft
in
a
futile
attempt
to
quiet
them.
When
the
worst
of
it
had
passed,
she
climbed
the
flight
of
stairs
to
the
top
floor
of
the
building.
The
only
place
that
gave
her
that
inner
tranquility
she
desperately
sought
had
four
large
skylights
that
were
just
waking
up
with
the
dawn.
She
turned
on
her
iPod
in
its
dock
and
was
soothed
as
Miley's
nasally
twang
caressed
her.
The
canvas
was
almost
finished,
she
noted
absently
as
she
lifted
her
paintbrush
and
gave
herself
over
to
the
dark,
moody
swirling
waters.

Late
Thursday
afternoon,
Allison
approached
Natalya’s
desk.
“Natalya
you’ve
been
a
lifesaver
this
week—thank
you
very
much.”

“You
are
most
definitely
welcome,”
she
said
as
she
took
off
her
reading
glasses
and
smoothed
down
her
black
pinstriped
suit.

“I'm
leaving
now
for
the
day,
I
have
to
get
to
the
gallery
and
put
in
a
couple
of
hours
before
we
close.
I
won’t
be
in
tomorrow,
either.
My
assistant
and
I
will
be
preparing
the
items
for
the
We Care
auction
on
Saturday
evening.”

“Yes,
of
course,
I’ve
heard
about
that.
Will
you
be
going
out
to
L.A.
on
Monday
morning?”
Natalya
asked.

“What’s
in
L.A.
on
Monday?”

“Oh,
I'd
have
thought
Bradley
would've
mentioned
it.”
Natalya
looked
displeased.
“Your
father
had
assigned
Bradley
the
responsibility
of
working
with
the
interior
design
team
to
streamline
the
interiors
of
the
new
fleet
of
jets."

"Wow,
I'm
impressed
that
Dad
gave
him
such
an
important
responsibility."

"It
turned
out
to
be
short-lived
because
Bradley
bungled
the
job.
He
accused
the
head
designer
of
misappropriation
of
funds."
She
set
her
reading
glasses
down
on
her
desk.
"It
turned
out
to
be
a
simple
bookkeeping
error
that
hadn’t
been
caught
until
the
ugliness
came
to
light.
Your
father
was
beside
himself.
He
had
an
exclusive
and
long-standing
relationship
with
that
team
of
interior
designers.
He
had
arranged
to
fly
out
there
to
smooth
the
ruffled
feathers
himself."