Come Fly With Me (14 page)

"I
would
imagine
he
was
furious,"
Allison
added.

"Actually,
you
just
reminded
me
your
father
argued
with
Bradley
quite
loudly
that
morning
of
the
accident.
He
had
given
Bradley
the
chance
to
prove
himself
in
order
to
please
Martin
and
ease
the
bite
of
selecting
Alex
to
serve
on
the
board
over
him,
but
it
backfired.
He
accused
Bradley
of
trying
to
sabotage
the
company,"
Natalya
finished.

“I'd
assume
it
wasn’t
the
first
time
my
father
was
involved
in
a
shouting
match
at
the
office.
He
had
a
volatile
nature.
But
this
sounds
like
cause
for
concern.
Did
you
tell
this
to
the
police?”

“No,
I
didn’t
make
the
connection
until
this
minute,”
Natalya
replied
slowly.

Allison
fished
out
Detective
Fitzsimons’
card
and
handed
it
to
her.
“Please
make
the
call.”

“Of
course.
Right
away,”
she
nodded.

Allison
felt
unnerved
as
she
rode
down
in
the
elevator.
Once
again,
the
stress
of
the
last
two
weeks
threatened
to
overtake
her.
She
had
never
thought
of
herself
as
a
weak
person,
but
this
new
development
threw
her.
She
looked
at
the
time;
it
was
nearing
four
o'clock,
and
she
was
anxious
to
get
to
the
gallery.
Allison
remembered
when
her
father
had
pitched
the
idea
of
her
joining
the
company
back
when
she
was
still
in
college.
He
had
driven
up
to
Brown
University
one
fall
Sunday
afternoon
on
the
guise
of
foliage
watching.
He
took
her
out
to
lunch
and
tried
to
tell
her
she
had
a
head
for
business.
Her
major
was
still
undecided
at
the
time,
but
she
knew
sitting
at
a
desk
or
in
front
of
a
computer
would
be
stifling
to
her.

"Dad,
what
would
you
say
if
I
told
you
I
was
considering
declaring
Art
history
as
my
major?"

"Art
isn't
a
major,"
her
father
said.
"It's
a
hobby."

"It's
more
than
a
hobby
to
me,
Dad.
I
could
run
a
gallery
or
work
on
preparing
exhibits
for
museums."

"Brown
isn't
the
place
for
that
kind
of
pseudo-degree,
and
besides,
I
didn't
drive
all
the
way
up
here
to
listen
to
your
fantasies."

"You
said
you
drove
up
here
to
see
the
leaves."

"I
drove
up
here
to
make
sure
my
daughter
doesn't
have
any
foolish
notions
of
how
the
world
runs.
Your
mother
let
me
know
me
that
you
weren't
considering
accounting
as
your
major."

"That's
right,"
Allison
responded.
"You
were
the
only
one
considering
it;
accounting
was
never
interesting
to
me."

"Allison,
you're
brighter
than
you
give
yourself
credit
for—you
got
into
Brown.
I
will
not
allow
you
to
throw
away
an
Ivy
League
education
on
art."

"Meaning?"

"If
you
want
to
stay,
then
declare
accounting
as
your
major."

She
shook
her
head
even
as
she
caved,
"Of
course,
Dad,
whatever
you
say."

As
much
as
she
hated
to
admit
it,
her
accounting
degree
turned
out
to
be
invaluable
when
she'd
taken
over
running
the
family
charitable
foundation
and
her
own
business.
I
guess
my
father
did
know
a
thing
or
two.
I’m
glad
I
listened
to
him
at
least
once
in
my
life,
Allison
smiled
to
herself.
She
was
in
better
spirits
as
she
entered
the
gallery
and
spotted
Emily
chatting
it
up
with
a
customer.
Emily
was
as
close
to
a
best
friend
as
she
was
ever
going
to
get,
besides
Kenyon,
of
course.
Shared
gossip,
usually
a
mainstay
of
many
friendships
didn't
interest
Allison.

Allison
gave
Emily
a
small
wave
and
continued
to
the
back
towards
her
office.
She
sat
down
gratefully
and
worked
at
a
steady
clip
until
Emily
knocked
and
opened
the
door.

“It’s
so
good
to
see
you
in
that
chair;
it’s
been
pretty
lonely
here.”

“Thanks,
Em,
it
feels
right
to
be
here."

“Oh,
I
almost
forgot
to
tell
you,
a
client
is
asking
for
you
personally.”

“Who
is
it?”

“He
said
his
name
is
Alexander.
Is
he
the
cute
Alex
from
work?
I
would
reapply
my
lipstick
if
I
were
you
before
I
went
out
there,”
Emily
suggested
as
she
pointed
at
Allison’s
face.