Come Fly With Me (49 page)

Alex
nodded
his
head,
"I
can
see
your
father
doing
something
like
that."

Allison
had
forgotten
that
Alex
and
her
father
had
a
relationship
and
suddenly
got
choking
sensation
in
her
throat.
She
coughed
to
try
to
release
the
vise
grip
on
her
air
passage.

Alex
looked
at
her
intently,
"You
okay?
You
looked
like
you
were
going
to
pass
out."

"I'm
good,
really.
The
smoke
must
have
closed
up
my
throat."

"No
one's
smoking
here,
Allison.
New
York
bars
have
been
smoke-free
for
several
years,
now."

She
looked
around
in
a
daze
as
if
suddenly
registering
her
surroundings.
"I
have
to
get
out
of
here."

She
hurried
toward
Kenyon
and
yanked
him
off
his
seat,
which
was
no
small
feat,
since
Carrie
was
wrapped
around
him.
She
hated
that
she
hated
everything
about
her
life
right
now.
She
hated
that
Alex
pushed
her
out
of
her
comfort
zone.
She
hated
the
way
her
life
was
intertwined
with
his.
Some
hopeless
romantic
would
say
it
was
Fate,
but
she
hated
hopeless
romantics,
too.

Allison
paced
back
and
forth
across
the
expanse
of
her
upstairs
loft.
She
dug
her
hands
into
the
back
pockets
of
her
jeans.
She
glanced
at
the
wall
clock.
Mr.
Essex
was
bringing
Kaitlin
by
for
their
first
meet
and
greet.
What
would
she
do
if
his
daughter
turned
out
to
be
some
rich,
spoiled
brat
that
demanded
things
be
exactly
her
way?
The
doorbell
rang,
and
she
buzzed
back
to
let
them
in
the
building,
then
heard
them
coming
up
the
worn,
wooden
stairs.
She
ran
to
open
the
door
and
saw
Michael
was
dressed
as
formally
on
a
Saturday
afternoon
as
he
had
been
the
past
Tuesday.

She
fixed
a
smile
on
her
face
and
put
out
her
hand,
"You
must
be
Kaitlin."

"It's
nice
to
meet
you,
Miss
Ross,"
Kaitlin
responded.

"None
of
that,"
Allison
scolded,
"It's
Ally.
I
expect
we'll
become
fast
friends
over
the
next
few
weeks."
She
straightened
and
saw
Michael
smiling
warmly
at
her.
She
fumbled
with
the
buttons
on
her
sweater,
as
beads
of
sweat
broke
out
on
her
forehead.
"Well,
Kaitlin,
it
looks
like
you're
in
..."
He
paused
as
he
looked
at
Allison's
elegant
fingers,
"...very
capable
hands."
He
nodded
at
the
two
of
them,
then
turned
around
abruptly
and
left.
Allison
became
acutely
aware
that
she
was
the
sole
entertainment
for
his
poised
and
lovely,
porcelain-skinned
daughter.

Kaitlin
walked
around
the
room,
picking
up
painting
after
painting,
silently
taking
it
all
in.
Finally,
she
turned
toward
Allison,
"What's
with
the
gloom
and
doom?
Most
of
these
have
dark
backgrounds
and
a
stormy
feeling
to
them.
Do
you
have
any
happy
paintings?"

Allison
bit
her
lip,
"Hallmark
does
happy—I
haven't
figured
out
how
to
do
that,
yet.
On
another
note,
how
do
you
feel
about
this—me
painting
you?"

Kaitlin
stopped
making
her
circuit,
"It's
a
little
creepy,
but
Dad
is
freaked
that
I
might
turn
into
some
out
of
control
monster
overnight,
and
he's
desperate
to
remember
me
like
this."
She
swept
her
hand
over
her
body
with
a
noteworthy
imitation
of
Vanna
White.

Allison
laughed,
"I
don't
know
your
father,
but
he
did
appear
somewhat
panicky."

Kaitlin
leaned
in
conspiratorially,
"He's
terrified.
He
knows
he's
out
of
his
league
with
all
this
female
stuff.
It's
kind
of
fun
to
see
him
so
unnerved.
You
might
have
noticed
that
he's
usually
unflappable—that's
one
of
my
new
vocabulary
words;
I
try
to
use
it
every
chance
I
get."

Allison
smiled,
"I
like
you.
I
was
afraid
you
might
be
spoiled."

"Oh,
I
am,
but
my
Dad
drilled
good
manners
into
me."

"It
shows.
It
must
have
been
difficult
growing
up
without
a
mother,"
Allison
grimaced,
"I
hope
it's
okay
I
just
said
that...
it
sorta
fell
out
of
my
mouth."

"Don't
worry
about
it—it's
been
a
long
time."

"Do
you
have
an
aunt
or
a
grandmother
that's
prepared
to
step
in
and
show
you
how
to
use
a
tampon?
I
think
that
conversation
would
throw
your
'unflappable'
Dad
right
into
'flappable'."