Come Fly With Me (68 page)

"I
went
to
school
in
the
East,
remember?
I
joined
the
hockey
team
at
M.I.T.
I
found
the
cold
cleared
my
head.
You're
pretty
good."

"Thanks,
we
went
every
Sunday
when
we
were
kids.
I
can't
believe
you
convinced
me
to
come
to
Rockefeller
Center
on
a
Sunday
afternoon
with
all
the
tourists!"

"It's
mid-March;
all
the
tourists
have
left.
Come,
let's
go
inside
and
have
something
hot,"
Alex
said.
He
reached
out
for
her
gloved
hand,
and
they
skated
gracefully
toward
the
exit.

They
settled
in
with
their
hot
chocolates,
with
a
double
portion
of
whipped
cream
for
Alex.
Allison
sighed
as
she
looked
out
the
expansive
windows
of
the
cafe
that
surrounded
the
rink.

"It's
so
beautiful
here,"
she
said.
"I
dash
past
this
every
day
on
the
way
to
work
and
never
bother
to
look.
Thanks
for
forcing
me
to
slow
down
and
take
a
breath."

"You're
welcome,"
he
said.
"You
know,
you're
capable
of
being
nice,
why
are
you
prickly
most
of
the
time?"

"My
default
setting
is
bitch.
Why
do
you
want
to
hang
out
with
me
if
you
think
I'm
prickly?"

"I'm
a
masochist?"

"Ha,
you
love
yourself
too
much
to
be
a
masochist.
Why
are
you
hanging
around
me,
besides
for
the
obvious
reason
of
trying
to
get
the
job?"

"I
have
a
hero
complex.
I
feel
the
need
to
rescue
a
damsel
in
distress."

She
took
umbrage
at
that.
"I'm
not
in
need
of
rescuing."

"Allison,
you're
so
far
gone
you
can't
see
how
you
push
people
away.
Your
body
language
reads
'don't
mess
with
me.'
Now,
why
do
you
think
that
is?"

"Why
do
you
care?
I'll
give
you
the
job
if
you'll
stop
analyzing
me!"

"Answer
the
question.
Why
do
you
push
people
away?"

"It's
too
frustrating
to
get
to
know
someone
and
share
yourself
and
then
they
turn
out
to
be
a
jerk.
It's
a
monumental
waste
of
time.
I
have
no
patience
for
it."

"That's
your
reason?
That's
what
you
think?"

"Yeah,
it
is,"
she
challenged,
looking
at
him,
eyeball
to
eyeball.

"Like
I
said,
you're
so
far
gone,
you're
in
need
of
a
major,
five
alarm
rescue,"
he
nodded
his
head
slowly.
"And
I'm
just
the
man
for
the
job."

"Hey
Em,
how
are
you?
It
feels
like
it's
been
ages
since
I've
been
here,"
Allison
looked
around
the
gallery
the
next
Monday
morning.
She
felt
good
and
anticipated
an
uneventful
week
ahead.
"What,
now?"
she
asked
as
she
noticed
Emily's
expression.

"There
are
a
couple
of
things
on
your
desk
that
require
your
immediate
attention,"
Emily
replied,
leading
Allison
to
the
back
of
the
gallery.

"What
in
the
world?"
Allison
gasped
as
she
took
in
the
controlled
chaos
of
her
office.
There
were
dozens
of
white
long-stemmed
roses
in
tall,
glass
vases,
everywhere.
The
only
shot
of
color
came
from
the
bouquet
of
blue
hydrangeas
nestled
in
a
short,
stout
vase.
"Who
sent
these?"

"I
have
no
idea,"
Emily
shrugged.
"The
roses
were
delivered
at
ten,
and
a
half-hour
later
the
hydrangeas
came."

"Two
deliveries?
Why?"
she
wondered.

"I
have
the
feeling
they
aren't
from
the
same
person.
They're
from
different
shops.
Read
the
cards—I'm
dying
of
curiosity."

"This
kind
of
thing
never
happens
to
me,"
Allison
said,
shaking
her
head
as
she
reached
for
the
card
attached
to
the
largest
bouquet
of
roses.
"Thank
you
for
your
sage
words.
We
are
back
on
speaking
terms,
All
the
Best,
Michael,"
she
read.

"Michael
who?"
Emily
asked.

Allison
ignored
her
as
she
reached
for
the
card
on
the
hydrangeas,
"These
flowers
are
blue,
and
so
am
I,
without
you,
Alex,"
she
said
slowly.

"Is
that
gorgeous
Alex
from
work?"
Emily
was
trying
to
keep
up,
Allison
noticed.

She
was
still
wearing
her
coat
as
she
looked
around
at
the
mini-flower
shop
that
had
once
been
her
office.
Turning
toward
Emily
she
said,
"Be
a
sweetheart
and
put
all
the
roses
out
in
the
front
where
everyone
can
enjoy
them."