Best Practice

by Carsen Taite

  “Don’t you love first class?”

  The silky voice tore Grace from her thoughts, and she looked across the aisle at the breathtaking blonde seated in the pod to her left. “I’m learning to,” she said, raising her glass. “I certainly didn’t expect to get an excellent Manhattan on board.”

  “Word. Although, I’m a margarita girl myself.” She tipped her glass in Grace’s direction. “These aren’t quite as good as the ones I make, but they’re pretty darn tasty for airline fare.”

  Grace raised her glass in a virtual toast and took another sip just as the captain came over the loudspeaker to announce details about their flight. The blonde settled back in her seat and she followed suit, thinking that so far everything about this trip was more vacation-like than rescue scenario. She’d compiled a list of things to accomplish during the flight—make a list of bullet points for why Perry should come home, email her friend at the state department to get details on how to expedite the passport, prepare notes for the opening statement of her upcoming trial—but now that she was settled into her very own cubby on a transatlantic jet with a perfect drink, a beautiful neighbor, and hours of nighttime ahead, she decided to relax and enjoy herself for a bit. She put on the soundproof headphones that came with the pod, pulled up a book on her iPad, tucked her feet under the blanket, and started a mystery she’d downloaded while waiting to board. The story was riveting, but it was no match for the cozy blanket and the white noise hum of the plane’s engines, and before long the words started to swim on the page. After dozing past her place in the story twice, she shoved the tablet in the side pocket and gave in to the solace of a nap.

  Grace had no idea how much time had passed when she woke to the sound of a cart bumping down the aisle. It took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the low light in the cabin, and a glance at her watch told her she’d been asleep for about an hour. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a nap, but considering how refreshed she felt, she should probably find a way to fit them into her schedule more often.

  “Ms. Maldonado, are you ready for your dinner?” Paul asked as he pulled up next to her seat.

  “I am,” she said, realizing she was ravenous. Must’ve been the nap. “But I’d really like a moment to freshen up if that’s okay.”

  “Of course. Take your time and I’ll bring your meal when you’re ready.” He consulted a card in his hand. “I don’t have a choice listed for you.”

  He rattled off a couple of gourmet sounding selections and she chose a braised short rib and asked for another Manhattan, giving in to the idea she wasn’t likely to get much work done once the lights went out again.

  Once he moved on to the next passenger, she slipped her shoes on, grabbed her purse, and made her way to the bathroom which, for better or worse, wasn’t much different from the ones in coach. She stared at her reflection in the cloudy mirror and patted the puffy circles under her eyes. She’d been keeping lots of late nights preparing for the Leighton trial and helping put together financing for a few other cases the firm had recently taken on. She enjoyed her position as managing partner, but the lines on her face made it clear the work was taking its toll. Definitely need more naps. Resolution made, she finger brushed her hair back behind her ears, hearing her mother’s voice echo in her head, “Don’t hide that pretty face.” The thought made her smile. She’d meant to call or text her parents before she left, since it seemed like you should tell your next of kin when you were leaving the country, but she hadn’t managed to find a free moment. Probably for the best. They had tried many times to get her to travel with them and she’d always begged off for work. She could hear her father, the US senator, saying, “It’s about time you expanded your horizons to take in other cultures,” although she seriously doubted he was talking about jolly ole Britain for the first stop on her cultural exchange.

  After dinner, the effects of a second drink hit and she drifted off to sleep, not bothering to fight the urge this time, figuring it would be better to be well rested when she arrived in London. When she woke again, it was still dark in the cabin. She checked her email, and found a message from Graham, with information for the hotel he’d booked for her, followed by a message from Campbell. Apparently, Perry was staying at a hostel outside of town, insistent on being independent. Grace figured Perry’s desire to be her own person was going to be the biggest obstacle to convincing her to come home to Austin. She pulled a notebook and pen from her bag and jotted down a list of reasons to support her argument: security, family, familiarity, friends. It was a good list, but she wasn’t sure she’d found the tipping point—the one thing that would win Perry over to her side. She started doodling things she doubted Perry had access to in the war-torn countries she insisted on calling home. Kate’s Donuts, Torchy’s Tacos, bats flying out from the Congress Street Bridge. Seriously, there was no competition when it came to Austin. All she had to do was get Perry to realize what she was missing.

  With less than an hour before the flight was scheduled to land, she abandoned the idea of more sleep and ducked into the restroom to brush her teeth and freshen up again. Instead of returning directly to her seat, she decided to wander around for a bit to work off her pent up energy before she was confined to her seat for the descent. She wound up at the snack station near the galley and spotted the blonde from the seat across from hers rummaging through the tray of snacks.

  “I think you’re only allowed to take one of those,” Grace said in a whisper, fixing her face into a stern expression.

  “I’m a platinum member,” Blonde deadpanned as she scooped up no less than four packs of cookies. “Special privileges.” She held out her free hand. “Danika Larsen, nice to meet you.”

  Grace instinctively took her outstretched hand and studied Danika’s face, trying to tell if she was kidding or a cookie thief. “Grace Maldonado. I’d say it’s nice to meet you too, but you took the last of the cookies, so I’m withholding final judgment.”

  Danika grinned and handed her a packet. “If a packet of cookies is all that’s standing between being shunned and getting to know you better, then by all means, have the cookies.”

  Grace accepted them and Danika’s fingers brushed hers with deliberate slowness during the exchange. It had been a long time, but she was certain Danika was flirting with her and it felt nice. “Thank you.” She lingered, wanting to continue their contact, but not great at making small talk. Campbell and Abby were better at that. She was the behind-the-scenes, no-nonsense, get it done partner in the firm, but the plane was about to land and she would probably never see Danika again, so why not give a bit of flirting a go?

  “Are you traveling for business or pleasure?” she asked.

  Danika wiped a cookie crumb from her lip in an adorable move. “A little of both. You?”

  “Same. What do you do?”

  “Finance. Venture capital, acquisitions and mergers, that sort of thing.” Danika rolled her eyes. “Go ahead and nod off now. Most women do.”

  “I doubt most women appreciate the beauty of math.” Ugh, had she really just said that? Super dork in the house. She scrambled to come up with a decent exit line when she caught sight of Danika’s big grin. “What?”

  “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  Could it be she’d connected with a fellow dork? Danika was a striking beauty and a math nerd? Seemed too good to be true.

  “What do you do?” Danika asked.

  “I’m a lawyer.” Grace watched for one of the two usual reactions. People were usually either impressed and curious or cautious and cagey.

  “Really? What kind of law?”

  “Our firm handles a variety of cases, but primarily corporate litigation.” Encouraged by what appeared to be sincere interest, she added, “We represent Leaderboard,” referring to the social media app that had just moved into the top spot in the market. Normally, she wouldn’t divulge the identity of a client, but Leaderboard was listed on their website as a r
epresentative client and their CEO, Braxton Meadows, liked to brag that he’d hired an all-female law firm to handle their litigation.

  “I bet you have lots of stories you can’t tell.”

  Grace smiled, pleased to meet someone who actually got it. “I can’t even tell you if I have stories.”

  Danika dangled a packet of cookies in front of her. “Not even for more of these?”

  “I don’t think it’s fair that we’ve barely met and you already know one of my major weaknesses.” Grace settled into the flirting, not her usual style, but she was actually having fun. “How long will you be in London?” She wrote the question off to small talk, but a small part of her acknowledged she had an underlying reason for wanting to know.

  “It’s open-ended at this point. Depends on how efficient my work is, but likely the rest of the week. I have a short list of tourist things I’d like to do if time permits. You?”

  “Also not sure. Based on my research, the matter I’m handling shouldn’t take more than a few days.”

  “Will that leave any time for catching the sights?”

  Grace considered her ultimate goal, returning home with Perry in tow. Not exactly conducive to sightseeing. “Regrettably not.”

  “That’s too bad. I had a vision of us strolling through the markets and stopping to taste gin along the way.”

  Grace started to laugh at the image of them guzzling gin and stumbling past vendor stalls, but she could tell by the earnest expression on Danika’s face, the invite was sincere. Sensing their flirting was about to go off the rails, she managed a forced smile. “I’m more of a bourbon gal.”

  “Hence the Manhattan.”

  Pleased Danika remembered her drink, she returned the gesture. “And here I thought tequila was your liquor of choice.”

  “Oh, it is, but one of my favorite things to do is immerse in the local culture.” She held up one of the packets she’d swiped from the snack station. “Gin and biscuits. Such a sacrifice.”

  The speaker crackled on and the captain’s voice boomed from overhead, telling everyone to return to their seats and cautioning the flight attendants to prepare for landing. Grace had mixed feelings about the interruption, both enjoying her conversation with Danika and skittish about the flirtation with a complete stranger. She wasn’t normally impulsive, but Danika’s warm smile made her want to be. A little bit.

  “I guess that’s it for now,” Danika said, pressing the last pack of shortbread into her hand. “If I don’t see you at baggage claim, I hope you have a successful trip and get everything you came here for.” She leaned in and whispered. “I’ll be thinking about you when I’m sipping the gin.”

  Danika disappeared down the aisle, back to her pod. Grace stayed where she was for a moment, kicking herself for not saying anything more, not getting a number at least. Campbell and Abby would’ve at least gotten her number when they’d been single. She looked down at the cookies in her hand and felt something stiff behind the crinkly cookie packet. She scanned the business card. Danika Larsen, VP Finance. Hmmm. Looked like one of them was willing to take the first step. If she could get Perry squared away, maybe she’d have time to take the second.

  Chapter Three

  “I don’t understand why I can’t go with you,” Perry said, pacing the tiny room in the hostel outside of London. They’d been here since leaving Crimea, and she was getting restless.

  “Uh, passport?” Linda said as she closed her suitcase and slid it off the bed. “Tom’s been called back to headquarters and his ‘whisk us out of the country’ magic is currently unavailable.”

  Perry sat down on the bed and pulled Linda onto it with her. They’d spent the last couple of days here waiting for Campbell to send her birth certificate so she could apply for an emergency passport from the US embassy. At Tom’s suggestion, she’d lain low, but she was sick of staying inside and tired of not having the freedom to go where she wanted and when. Seriously, she was a lawyer working to help people less fortunate, not an immigration dodger. Damn bureaucracies.

  When they’d arrived in London, Tom had tried to get the NGO to intercede to help her get a new passport, but they hadn’t wanted to draw attention to the fact one of their own had broken several immigration laws smuggling them into the UK since several of their big donors were UK institutions. She’d reached out to her sister, Campbell, who, as expected, immediately launched into a top ten list of why she should return to the US permanently. Campbell had finally agreed to send her documents, but it could be several days before she received a delivery, and judging by the dodgy front desk people at the hostel, she wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever get the package. Now Linda was being shipped out, and she wouldn’t have the distraction of their London fling to keep her mind off her predicament.

  “You sure you can’t stay one more day?” Perry asked, hating her needy tone.

  Linda put a hand on her cheek. “I wish. This has been fun and I’m going to miss this.” Her hand dropped lower, and she traced Perry’s side with a single finger sending spasms of orgasmic memory shuddering through Perry’s body. “Apparently, whatever it is can’t wait.”

  “Fine.” It wasn’t fine.

  “Are you going to stay here?” Linda asked.

  “Yes.” She didn’t want to, but the out-of-the-way hostel met the very definition of laying low since no one paid attention to her since she was one of many young travelers passing through. “I’ll be thinking about you while I’m sitting here doing jack shit. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get my passport by the end of the week and join you.” It was a big hope since she didn’t really know where she’d be assigned once she could travel again.

  “That would be nice, but you do what you have to do.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Perry asked.

  Linda shrugged. “Nothing. I heard you talking to your sister. Sounds like she misses you.”

  “I’m not sure missing me is an accurate assessment. She definitely likes to know exactly where I am and what I’m doing at all times. If she had her way, I’d be wearing a suit and sitting behind a desk twelve hours a day.”

  Linda stood, leaned in, and kissed her. “Whatever you say, P. Stay safe and I’ll see you soon, I hope.”

  Perry watched her leave, and a strong sense of loneliness swept over her. She’d lived in close proximity to Linda and Tom for the past couple of months, and now she was all alone, without a passport, in a country where no one needed her services or cared enough about what she did to make an exception to let her get back to work. It was all her fault for not keeping her papers close at hand, but she couldn’t help but think the universe was conspiring against her, especially after she’d spoken to Campbell.

  “Are you sure this isn’t a sign it’s time to come home?”

  Perry could hear Campbell’s attempt to keep the big sister know-it-all tone out of her voice, but it lurked beneath the surface and put her on edge. “You try rushing out of your house in the middle of the night and being smuggled out of the country in the floorboard of a truck. Even you might forget to pack everything you need under those circumstances.”

  “Doesn’t happen a whole lot here in Austin. You know what does happen? Fun things. The kind of things that don’t get you thrown in a foreign prison or killed.”

  “Are you going to send my birth certificate or not?” Perry’s mind churned through other possibilities for getting it from the States before the cash Tom had given her ran out. She could ask Campbell for an advance on her trust fund, but she didn’t want to admit she needed anything more than help getting her passport.

  Campbell sighed. “Yes, I’m sending it. I’ll let you know where you can pick it up as soon as I’ve made the arrangements.”

  That had been yesterday. Perry knew she should give Campbell time, but she’d expected to hear back by now. Frustrated at her inability to control her own fate, she climbed back in bed and pulled the covers over her head. A nap was the perfect cure to most anything, and she was go
ing to make the most of it.

  She had no idea how long she’d been asleep when the buzz of her phone rousted her from slumber. She swiped at the phone and squinted at the text from Campbell.

  Package at the Savoy Hotel. Front desk. Offer to come home is always open, but whatever you decide, let me know where you land. Love you, C

  Perry shook her head. Campbell’s persistence and optimism was undeniable, but she wasn’t giving in to the offer. She glanced around the room and packed her things. She’d likely come back here tonight, but the hostel didn’t have anywhere for her to store her stuff, and since what she’d been able to cram into her duffle bag was all she had, she’d prefer to keep it close.

  The Savoy was in the Strand in central London, and when Perry entered the lobby, she instantly felt underdressed and out of place in the posh and vast art deco space. The people waiting in line at the front desk likely were all looking forward to their luxury stay and had no idea most of the world lived in abject poverty so severe they thought buildings like this were palaces accessible only to royalty. Knowing Campbell, she probably thought the documents would be safer here than sending them directly to the hostel, not thinking about how Perry might be treated by the staff who were used to wealthy, well-dressed patrons, not scruffy, nonprofit lawyers.

  After a few minutes’ wait, the man behind the front desk motioned for her to step forward. “Checking in?”

  “Uh, no. Not even. I’m here to pick up a delivery. Perry Clark. It’s probably an envelope. Sent from the States by Campbell Clark.” She stopped talking and watched him bend down and check a mysterious drawer beneath the counter, finally producing a standard size envelope.

  “I’m going to need to see some identification,” he said, holding the envelope slightly out of reach.