Chapter Two
Olivia
Working for an airline as a flight attendant had its perks. Olivia traveled throughout the Americas and had a blast visiting exciting cities and meeting new people. Venture Airlines made strides in the industry, providing better service and ample seating for the coach customer. This week’s itinerary was typical for someone with five years’ seniority.
Boston to San Francisco. Day layover. San Francisco to Boston. Easy. She could do it in her sleep.
A warm December proved the Farmer’s Almanac correct. It was currently sixty-six degrees in Boston and sixty-six degrees in San Francisco. Placing her bag in the overhead compartment, Olivia struggled with her snug uniform. Capturing her lip between her teeth, she recalled the two dozen chocolate chip cookies she made this week. And that she’d eaten half the dough before the cookies made it into the oven. Maybe baking isn’t the best hobby. She tugged the hem of the skirt into place and continued on with her pre-boarding safety checks, rethinking her plans to visit the Ghirardelli Chocolate store near San Francisco Bay.
During boarding she handled the typical snafus before the plane took off on schedule. Other flight attendants frequently remarked on how well customers responded to her. They said she had one of those sincere faces, with kind, Anime-like eyes. In truth, she liked socializing and being helpful, which fostered her nurturing urges. The break from hometown life gave her a sense of freedom. If only her mother could see how a simple service job made her daughter happy. Frowning, she reset the coffee maker. The ding of the call bell successfully pulled her toxic thoughts away from her mommy issues.
“Sir, how can I help?”
“I’d like some extra ice, please,” said a man peering over the rim of his eyeglasses and indicating his remaining cola.
“Give me a minute.” She slipped into the narrow galley, collected a plastic cup, and crouched to reach the metal bin containing bags of ice.
Rrrip.
Olivia dropped the cup into the ice bin and stood. She swiveled her head to inspect the side of her skirt. The seam was slightly separated. The two inch long exposure stunned her. Her mother’s comment last week about her weight flooded back to her. “You might want to cut back on your frequent baking. As you get older it tends to stay on a girl’s hips.”
“Oh, not good,” said a fellow flight attendant, her finger wagging. “I heard last month two girls were let go because they got too large to fit into their uniforms. Company said they weren’t in compliance.”
“What!” Olivia choked, “That can’t be legal. It’s like discriminating against someone for their age or something.”
“Did you know they don’t make these uniforms in plus sizes? If you don’t fit, you aren’t hired. If you get too fat, you’re not in compliance. It’s how they get around it.” The tall, pencil-thin woman snorted. “There’s a lot of fine print in the Venture Airline’s contract.”
Olivia, mortified, wished she had laid off the Thanksgiving pies. Perhaps Mom was right? She vowed to work out more often, at least until she fit into her size twelve uniform better. “You wouldn’t happen to have a sewing kit in your bag?”
“This isn’t 1950,” said the other flight attendant with attitude.
What was she going to do with that hole in her uniform exposing her thigh?
The pencil-thin flight attendant seemed to take pity on her. “Maybe your apron will cover it.”
“Oh, good idea.” She took a step and then realized she’d need to leave the seclusion of the galley kitchen to fetch it. “Um, would you mind bringing me my flight bag?” She pointed to the overhead bin above a row of passengers.
“I’ll get it for you if you deal with the guy in my section, 34C. He wants something every fifteen minutes, and he’s getting on my nerves.”
Olivia shrugged. “Yeah, anything.” She stayed hidden until the flight attendant handed her the bag. Retrieving the apron, she prayed the fabric would cover the tear. She exhaled with relief when the material rounded her hips, leading to the ties in the back. It would have to do until she reached San Francisco. Her diet of whole milk and Angus beef and a steady intake of baked goods would have to change. Returning to her task of collecting ice, she bent from the waist. I should stop watching Cupcake Wars.
***
Olivia carried her homemade triple chocolate trifle to the door of her parents’ historic New Bridgeport home. She knocked, knowing the door would be locked. After she misplaced her key, her mother refused to give her another, insisting it would likely turn up. Six months later, Olivia stopped bringing it up.
The door swung open and Piper waved her inside. Before she could get her coat off, Piper flung her arms around her big sister’s neck. The collar muffled her as she said, “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas. I’ve missed you, Piper,” She snuggled her cheek against her sister’s. Her hands full, she couldn’t return the hug she wanted to. “I was thrilled you picked a college close by, but even so, I haven’t seen you in months.”
“I’ve missed you too. Ugh—pre-med is grueling. It’s good to be home and have a break from classes.”
Olivia handed the compote bowl to her.
“Ooh, this looks good. I can’t wait for dessert.” Piper’s eyes glazed with glee.
She set her purse and tote bag brimming with gifts on the wide-planked floor. As she shrugged off her coat, she heard her mother’s voice before she strode into view.
“Hello, Merry Christmas.” Cecilia Ward emerged in a tailored dress and designer peep-toed heels. A strand of cultured pearls graced her slender neck. Olivia leaned in, clutching her coat to her torso as her mother’s firm lips brushed her cheek.
“Merry Christmas, Mom.”
“I told you we don’t need dessert.” Cecilia waved at the trifle in Piper’s hands, scolding a bit. “I have sugar-free sorbet.”
“The trifle’s a new recipe I’ve been wanting to try.” Why she needed to defend her decision to bring dessert for a holiday meal, she didn’t know. Her mother was impossible. Being around her always put Olivia on the defensive. But it’s Christmas. And Piper’s home. And we’re all together. So nothing Mom says is going to get to me.
Cecilia instructed Piper dismissively, “Go put it in the refrigerator.” She returned her attention to Olivia. “Doesn’t Piper look wonderful? And she’s lost weight. So much for the freshman fifteen.”
“Yes, she always looks great,” Olivia responded through her teeth, trying not to sound resentful.
Cecilia pivoted and sailed toward the kitchen, passing Dylan on the way.
Dylan greeted his oldest sister. “Hey, Liv.”
Olivia tossed her coat onto an antique Windsor chair and hugged her fourteen-year-old brother. “Merry Christmas.” She pulled him close, knowing Dylan, the last sibling living at home, received the full brunt of their parents’ attention—or, rather, the painful lack thereof. Piper was of an entirely different personality than Olivia and Dylan. Perhaps because Olivia and Dylan were alike in many ways, their sibling bond seemed stronger.
As Dylan’s arms awkwardly circled her torso, she noticed he was now officially taller than her. Releasing him, she lifted her chin slightly to look up into his young face. “You’ve grown in the last month. What have you been up to?”
He shrugged. “School stuff.” Pause. “Did you hear…I didn’t make the basketball team?”
Olivia’s heart squeezed in sympathy. Their mother had mentioned it over the phone weeks ago, yet he still brought it up.
“I heard. But you’re a freshman. Not many freshmen make it the first year.” She retrieved the tote bag.
“I guess.” Dylan shrugged again as they headed into the living room.
Allen Ward tended the logs in the old stone fireplace. He smiled when his children entered the room. “Ah, we’re all here. Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he said to his daughter as he rested the brass poker on an ornate stand.
The Ward family gathered around the fireplace, ex
changing gifts and chatting quietly until dinner was ready. Olivia nibbled on the crudité and stuffed dates, salivating by the time the holiday feast was announced.
“What are we having?”
“Your mother made salmon, a wild rice medley, and steamed asparagus,” answered Dad, grinning at his wife.
They’d eaten that same meal nearly every week when she lived at home. Couldn’t Mom, just once, serve lasagna or roast beef?
“Sounds yummy.” Olivia forced a big smile, but it sputtered into a chuckle at her parents’ regimented and pretentious personalities.
“What’s so funny?” Dad shrugged.
Olivia bit back her laughter, shaking her head.
Mom frowned before sweeping off. Her siblings left the room, avoiding her. Cowards! You know what I’m laughing about! She hopped up from her chair and followed them.
In the dining room, Piper had done a nice job of setting the table, making the family meal feel festive. The dining room was part of the original colonial house; they’d added a huge addition to the back. Dad, an architecture history professor, had seen to all the renovations and period furnishings.
Conversation started off pleasantly as the family sat around the Queen Anne table and passed the serving dishes.
“Oh, Piper!” Cecilia beamed. “Last week I spoke with Dr. Long about you. I couldn’t express enough how proud I am that you’re following in my footsteps.”
Piper hunched her shoulders and scanned the faces at the table. “Mom, I don’t know if I want to be a dermatologist. I haven’t decided. Besides, it’s only my first year.”
“Becoming a doctor is what I mean. And getting into Harvard. Back in my days at Harvard…”
While her mother droned on with another Harvard story, Olivia pushed the salmon around on her plate, lost in thought.
“Earth to Olivia!”
She snapped to attention. “What?”
Her mother looked pointedly at her. “I asked if there’s something wrong with the salmon. You’ve hardly eaten.” She paused. “It’s not like you.”
Olivia held her breath, heat creeping up her neck. Her siblings stared deliberately at their plates, and her dad focused on sipping his wine. They’d learned over the years to stop defending her or risk the wrath of their mother’s scolding and barbed tongue.
Maybe because I’m sick of eating salmon! Or maybe I don’t want to hear for the millionth time how proud you are of your Harvard medical student. And how disappointed you feel to have one of your children not measuring up, not tall and bone-thin like the rest of the family.
Olivia let lose her pent-up breath. “It’s delicious as always, Mom.” She was desperate to change the subject of her eating habits and shifted her gaze across the table to her brother. “Dylan, I was thinking we could get tickets to a Celtics game. After I get my January schedule, we can pick a day that works.”
Not much excited the teenager, but Dylan’s face lit up. “That would be great!” He nodded enthusiastically.
“Wish I could join you two, but I’m heading back to campus early to get a jump on next semester.” Piper, a science club kind of kid, often shot hoops with her and Dylan in the private alley behind their carriage house.
Olivia wouldn’t bother asking her parents to join. Neither of them played or watched sports. Academia was their gold standard.
Dylan slid his plate a few inches away and set his elbows on the linen. “Um, some of my friends are looking into joining a recreational basketball league. The practices and games are at that big sports and fitness center in town. The one your friend Tess works at.”
“I don’t think you’ll have time,” Cecilia said. “You need to focus on your grades, young man. Every year of high school counts when it comes to your college application.”
“Mom, I know.” Dylan pressed his lips together. “It’s just if I want to make the team next year I need to keep practicing.”
“Colleges are looking for well-rounded students. These days, they like to see kids are participating in sports,” Piper said with a wink at her brother.
“Yeah.” Dylan seemed encouraged by Piper’s comment. “I have the flyer.” He pulled a neatly folded paper from his pocket.
“Let’s see.” Olivia held her hand out. Dylan placed the flyer in her palm. She unfolded the sheet and read silently while the family finished eating. “Oooh, they’re looking for volunteer coaches and assistant coaches.” She beamed at Dylan. “Wouldn’t it be great if I helped coach?”
“You coach?” Cecilia cackled at the absurdity and grimaced, altering her lovely features.
“What’s wrong with that? I played in high school.”
“You warmed the bench,” her dad added with a chuckle.
“And you got the Team Spirit award. They only give such awards to the worst players. Even I know that,” said her mother, who exchanged grins with her husband.
“Maybe.” Olivia brushed off the insult. “I think it will be something fun for Dylan and I to do together. I’m going to apply.” Besides, it will be good exercise.
“When is it? How long does it run?” The corners of Cecilia’s mouth turned down.
“Don’t worry. I’ll pick him up and take us to and from practice and to the games when I’m in town.”
“How’s that going to work with your airline schedule?” her father asked.
“I’ve been a block holder for more than a year. I can choose when I want to work each week. I don’t see a problem with the schedule,” Olivia said optimistically.
“Sam and Brady are trying out. If they make it, I can get rides with them.” Dylan paused, hopeful. “Can I go to the tryouts?” Dylan looked to his parents.
Allen stared at his wife, who appeared to consider it before agreeing. “As long as your grades don’t slip below a B.”
Dinner concluded on a high note in Olivia’s book. Dad cleared the table while their mother went to the kitchen to prepare for dessert. Dishes rattled into the dishwasher and the smell of coffee brewing wafted in as she chatted with her siblings.
Allen returned, delivering coffee mugs and cream. Cecilia followed him with a silver tray laden with five fancy pedestal bowls of sorbet garnished with fresh mint leaves.
Olivia stood. “I’ll get the chocolate trifle.”
“Don’t bother.”
Her mother’s appalling words rooted her to the spot.
“This is plenty.” Cecilia pierced her with a superior glance.
“But—I made it special for tonight.”
“We’ll save it for tomorrow.”
Olivia slumped into her seat. Resentment festered while her mother distributed the sorbet dishes. “What if I don’t want sorbet?” The edge in her voice pulled every pair of eyes toward her.
Dylan broke the thick silence. “I’ll eat both.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Dylan,” his mother chided. “It may be a special occasion, but I don’t think overindulging is healthy.”
Dylan shot Olivia an apologetic glance before lifting the slender dessert spoon.
Cecilia reclaimed her seat and scanned the faces of her children and husband, her brows arched. The silence lasted several moments before Allen complimented his wife’s sorbet and asked her about mutual friends of theirs. Cecilia chatted, oblivious to her children’s discomfort—especially Olivia’s.
With every swallow of sorbet, Olivia seethed. Each snarky comment her mother made regarding her so-called friends was a slew of judgments. Dad merely nodded, appearing to agree with whatever she said. I can’t take it anymore. Dish half empty, Olivia stood.
Appearing startled by her daughter’s abrupt movement, Cecilia glanced at her own nearly full parfait dish. “Where do you think you’re going? We haven’t finished.”
“I’m going home. I’ve got a trip tomorrow and I’m tired. So thanks for dinner.” Collecting her dish, she left the room and headed into the kitchen. With dread, she heard the sound of her mother’s heels behind her.
“Really, Oliv
ia? You’re cutting our Christmas short because of your job?” She released the last word with disdain.
“I happen to love my job.”
“You could be doing so much more than serving drinks. When are you going to wake up and realize that getting a proper education is important? It’s critical for a successful career.”
“I have a successful career. I may not make the kind of money you and Dad make, but it suits my lifestyle just fine,” she cried, desperately wanting her mother to understand.
“You were accepted into Harvard, but you wasted your opportunity.”
“You made me apply. It wasn’t the life I wanted,” she ground out.
“Where do you even come up with these ideas? First it was culinary school. Thank goodness I talked you out of that. And now this stewardess job. What kind of example are you setting for your siblings? Thank goodness Piper didn’t follow in your footsteps. Do you know your brother is talking about taking a year off before college?” Cecilia whispered harshly.
Olivia also lowered her voice. “You think I’m a bad influence? You think it’s my fault a fourteen-year-old is thinking about taking a year off from school?”
Cecilia crossed her arms. Her polished fingernails gleamed in the kitchen light as she toyed with the pearls around her willowy neck. “I don’t see another reason.”
Why do you say such hurtful things? Olivia’s unending patience nearly faltered. “Well, I’m volunteering to help coach Dylan. Maybe if he improves his skills he’ll get a basketball scholarship and play for a school he might be interested in.”
“I won’t hold my breath.”
The rest of the family filled the kitchen and hugged Olivia goodnight. She drove the short distance home with tears in her eyes and regret in her heart. Ugh. Why didn’t I grab the chocolate trifle before I left!
Defying Gravity (Landing in Love Book 1) Page 2
