by Melissa Good
Cynthia's face twitched.
There was a soft knock at the door, and Kerry got up. "Room service," she said, as she went to the door and opened it. "Hello."
"Ma'am." The room service waiter, a slim woman, entered. "Your breakfast."
"Thanks." Kerry indicated the table. She followed the server over to the table, and waited for her to set the tray down. The woman did, then she turned, with a leather billfold in her hand, which Kerry held her hand out for, then signed.
"Do you need anything else, ma'am?" the woman asked, as she handed the bill back.
"Not right now." Kerry smiled at her. "Thank you."
The woman smiled back. "My pleasure." She gave Kerry's mother a respectful nod and left, closing the door quietly behind her.
Kerry opened a packet of raw sugar and poured it into her cup, filling it with hot coffee before she added some cream and sat down to enjoy it. She sipped from the cup, aware of the faintly pained look on her mother's face. "You don't like that word, do you?"
Cynthia looked up, startled. "I beg your pardon?"
"Gay," Kerry said. "You don't like it."
Her mother frowned, stirring her tea as she added a bit more hot water to it. "It makes me uncomfortable," she admitted finally. "Yes."
Kerry uncovered one of the dishes on her tray and picked up a cheerful looking cherry and cheese Danish. "Me too."
Cynthia blinked, and her brows creased again.
"I don't think I should have to define myself by who I sleep with." Kerrry studied the Danish and selected a spot, biting into it and chewing. She swallowed, and wiped her lips with her napkin. "It's kind of stupid."
"Well." Her mother took a sip of her tea. "You know, I think I agree with you on that subject." She watched her daughter chew her breakfast. "Really, it shouldn't matter, should it?"
Kerry looked up at her, eyes glinting with wry bemusement.
Cynthia seemed to appreciate the irony. She remained silent, fiddling with the teaspoon in obvious discomfort.
"It shouldn't," her daughter finally said. "So what's going on this morning?" She shoved the conversation onto a different track. "Anything new?"
Her mother sighed. "I'm afraid they stopped a bomb, a truck bomb from crossing into New York last night."
Kerry sat up, her brows creasing. "Good lord," she said. "So they're still doing things?"
Cynthia shook her head. "Apparently so," she said. "I was waiting to hear further details. Perhaps--" She hesitated. "Perhaps your people have heard more?"
"Let me get my laptop." Kerry set her cup down and got up. "And Dar's flying. I'm going to be a nervous wreck all day." She disappeared into her room, leaving the living space in silence.
Cynthia folded her hands in her lap and bowed her head for a moment, her lips moving as she whispered a short prayer. Then she straightened back up as she heard Kerry coming back in the room, taking a deep breath as her daughter reappeared holding her computer in her hands.
It was exhausting, dealing with this child of hers. Though Kerry was certainly being civil, the hostility she felt just under the surface was obvious to Cynthia, and she wondered when, not if, that simmering anger would erupt again.
Very difficult. Hard to know where to start, really. She didn't want to be so much at odds with her eldest daughter, but everything she'd tried so far to smooth the waters between them had ended badly and she wasn't truly sure why.
She knew Kerry was angry about all that had happened before, but really now it was in the past. Couldn't be changed.
"What about what we ran into last night?" Kerry asked, as she opened the device and started it up. "Was that real? Mother, honestly, if there are bombs in the city, it's insanity to go into the center of it." She sat down and glanced across the table. "What if they already planted something at the Capitol?"
Her mother pursed her lips. "It's a concern, certainly," she agreed. "My staff was calling around to find out what the rest of my colleagues are intending on doing."
Kerry leaned on the table with both hands, waiting for her laptop to boot up. Then she straightened. "Let me go throw some clothes on," she said. "I've got a feeling it's going to be a busy morning and your staff probably won't appreciate my nerdish pajamas."
She left the laptop where it was and went back into the bedroom, rubbing the back of her neck to work the crick out of it from her night of tossing and turning. She went into the bathroom and stripped out of her shirt, turning on the shower and taking the sponge and bottle of body scrub from her kit bag.
Ignoring her reflection in the mirror, she ducked under the spray and squeezed a blob of wash onto the scrubbie and started using it. The faintly rough texture felt good against her skin, and the pounding of the water across the back of her neck was working to loosen the muscles there.
She felt a little anxious. She wasn't sure if it was the situation she was in, or some subliminal worry about Dar, or perhaps even a reflection of Dar worrying about her, but it was rubbing her nerves raw. She really wished she was alone in her palatial hotel room and didn't have to deal with her mother.
"Now," she muttered to herself over the water, "I'm guessing she probably feels the same way." She glanced at the reflection of her eyes in the small, surprisingly unsteamy mirror fixed to the wall. "Cause I know I'm not being little miss sunshine."
She got a handful of shampoo and soaped her hair, scrubbing above her ears and standing under the water to rinse the suds out. Then she let her arms drop and simply stood, appreciating the powerful pulse of the water against her body.
A bad dream had woken her this last time. She couldn't even remember now what the dream was, except that she could recall feeling sad, and scared and alone in some strange otherworld of her sleeping imagination.
Now she felt tired, irritated, and anxious with a day of conflict and confrontation with the government ahead of her. "Rats." Kerry folded her arms across her wet body. Then she exhaled and reluctantly left the warmth, shutting off the water and grabbing a towel hanging on a rod nearby.
She dried herself off, her ears picking up low voices in the room next door that made her glad she'd decided to get changed when she did. Unlike Dar, who pretty much completely lacked body consciousness, she really had no comfort level in facing fully dressed people in her sleepware.
Crazy really, since she walked around in less at home all the time. On the island, either a pair of shorts and a tank, or shorts and a bathing suit, or just her bathing suit which was absolutely more revealing than a damn T-shirt.
Just a weird crick in her brain. Kerry studied her choice of clothing, then pulled on a pair of jeans buttoning them before she added a bright red polo with their company logo on it. She ran a brush through her damp hair and studied the results.
Hm. She set the brush down and tucked in the polo, reaching into her bag and adding a braided leather belt and buckling it around her waist. With a satisfied grunt, she clipped her phone to the belt and slid her PDA in her pocket, and headed back out to face the world.
DAR WOKE TO the smell of sizzling steak nearby. The dichotomy of the view around her, the drone of the engines, and the scent made her look around in utter bewilderment before she remembered where she was.
"Feeling better?"
Dar glanced to her right across the wide aisle where Alastair was ensconced in a leather lounger much like hers, a reading light glowing dimly on the sheaf of papers he was reviewing. "I was until someone started roasting a steer somewhere," she said. "Where the hell did the barbeque come from?"
He removed his reading glasses and peered back at her, a bemused expression on his face. "You know, I've been on private jets before, but I bet you haven't."
"No," she readily admitted.
"They asked Bea how to cater the plane when she reserved it." Alastair put his glasses back on and went back to his papers. "I took the liberty of ordering for you. I've been traveling with you long enough that I figured I could guess right on what you eat."
Dar
glanced at her watch, surprised to see they'd been flying for four hours and she'd slept for three of them. "Ah, okay," she said. "Yeah, the nap helped." She eased a little more upright, running her fingers through her hair. "What's so interesting?"
Alastair picked up a glass with ice and liquid in it and took a sip. "Our SEC pre-filing report for quarter three," he said. "Want to read it?"
Dar eyed him. "I just woke up," she said. "You want me to go back to sleep? You'll have a lot of dinner to eat by yourself."
Alastair chuckled. "I was trying to put myself to sleep, to be honest." He set the report to one side, and tossed his glasses on top of it. "Sometimes I look forward to retiring, when the most urgent thing I have to look at is an LL Bean catalog," he admitted. "You get tired of all the fine print, y'know?" He put his hands behind his head and stretched out.
"Do you?" Dar half turned onto her side, drawing one knee up as she faced her boss. "What would you do if you retired?"
Alastair tilted his head back and regarded the ceiling of the private jet, pondering the question.
Dar took a moment while he was thinking to look around the jet she hadn't paid much attention to when they'd boarded. It was reasonably large inside, but had two single lines of fully reclining leather couches on either side of a wide aisle instead of the usual rows of upright chairs.
It was quiet, the drone of the engines muted, and it felt expensive. Dar realized this was what it was like for the truly elite when they traveled.
She liked it. It meshed well with her view of appropriate personal space and comfort, and the leather loungers were just big enough that she and Kerry could possibly squish together on one.
That thought made her wish Kerry was on the plane with her and she frowned, turning back to Alastair as he cleared his throat and started to answer.
"Well you know I have the ranch," Alastair said. "I'd love to spend more time with the horses. I've got a granddaughter who's learning to ride the circuit and it would be great to watch her out there instead of sit on my ass in my office in Houston."
"Sounds nice," Dar said. "I like horses. I saw the pictures in your office. Those are beautiful animals."
"Good blood." He turned his head a little. "What about you? What would you do if you retired, Dar? I know it sounds crazy for you given how old you are, but you've got fifteen plus years in. Ever think about it?"
"Sure," Dar responded, with a smile. "I'd move down to the Keys and spend my days diving and bumming around on the beach, with an occasional consulting stint to pay the bills."
Alastair smiled. "Ah, the child of the sea. How could I forget."
"Which is exactly what I'd do if you decide to retire. By the way," Dar continued, her smile widening as she caught the look of honest surprise on her boss's face, "I have no intention of doing this for anyone else."
Alastair looked at her in silence for a long moment. "Are you serious?"
Dar nodded. "As a heart attack."
Her boss's eyes twinkled. "That might be the nicest thing you ever said to me," he said. "Thank you, Paladar." He paused. "Now let me tell you something. You remember when you sent me that resignation letter?"
Dar nodded.
"Had mine written out too, stapled to it," Alastair said. "So it's probably a pretty good thing for the company you decided to stay." He considered. "Though, gotta admit there have been times lately I almost wish you hadn't."
"Yeah," Dar said. "I know what you mean." She hoisted herself out of her chair and stood, stretching her body out before she crossed the aisle and knelt next to where her boss was sprawled. "Thanks, Alastair. I know I've been a pain in the ass over the years." She held her hand out, and as he reached over, she clasped his in a powerful grip. "Hope it was worth it."
He chuckled again. "Bet your ass it was." He released her hand. "You know, the one bright spot of that whole mess with Steven and you was getting to meet Kerry for the first time."
Predictably, that made Dar grin. She got up and strolled down the aisle, exploring their little world. "She was so pissed at me for quitting."
"She's a firecracker," Alastair said. "You know she called me up and told me I had to get my ass on an airplane and get over there because everyone in that office was an idiot who didn't have a clue."
Dar turned and looked at him, both eyebrows lifted up to her hairline.
"Not in so many words," her boss admitted. "But that was the gist couched in soft, gentile Midwestern politeness, and it was at that point I realized you were gone hook line and sinker for very good reason." He smiled at Dar's sheepish expression. "She was your match."
Dar leaned back against the wall of the cabin. "She is," she said quietly. "She changed my life."
"She up for being a beach bum too?" Alastair asked. "I thought she likes the craziness."
"After this last cluster, she's open to it," Dar responded. "She does like the job. She likes the energy of it."
"But?"
Dar looked mildly embarrassed. "She'll go wherever I go."
"Loyal kinda gal." Alastair commented, with a smile. "But then, you're two of a kind in that regard so I'm guessing the company's in for a world of hurt some day."
"Mmph."
The door to the front of the plane opened, and a tall, lanky, young man entered. He was dressed in a pair of pressed black slacks and a ribbed black pullover, with striped epaulets on his shoulders. "Ma'am, sir," the man said. "We've run into a weather issue and wanted to advise you on it. A tropical depression has formed in the Gulf, and the outflow is going to extrude into our course and make it a very rough ride."
"Can we go around it?" Alastair asked. "My kidneys are not in the mood to be rattled tonight."
"I can certainly ask, sir," the man replied. "It might make us need to change our flight plan though," he said. "We're taking a very long route over the Southern Caribbean to avoid US airspace and this would mean a shift nearer to the coast of South America."
Dar and Alastair exchanged looks. "Depression look like it's going get worse?" Dar asked. "Strengthen?"
The man nodded. "They expect it to become Tropical storm Gabrielle tomorrow."
"Let's avoid it if we can," Dar said. "Nothing against your pilot's skills but I'm not in the mood for a swim off Tortola today."
"I'm not up for a swim off Tortola any day," Alastair chimed in. "Even though I do float like a cork."
The man nodded, and disappeared again.
Alastair grunted. "Figures."
Dar leaned back against the wall again. "That time of year," she said. "Wish I'd taken Gerry up on his offer now," she admitted. "He sounded like he had a thousand irons in the fire though."
Alastair regarded her. "Lady, if you think these old bones wanted to spend eight hours crossing the pond in an Airborne jumpseat you're nutty as a fruitcake without any rum in it."
Dar chuckled, and started to roam again, walking to the front of the cabin past the service bulkhead she'd been leaning against, then turning and moving along the rows of chairs to the back where a small suite of bathrooms were tucked. "I'm pretty sure he meant a civilian transport, Alastair. I'm sure they had other people that needed a ride home, diplomats and whatever."
"Let them ride in a steel bucket seat," Alastair said. "Damn politicians spend most of their time busting my chops anyway."
Dar went over to where their carry on baggage was stowed and dug in hers, removing her bathroom kit and retreating with it into the typically small airplane facility.
For shorter people, it was bearable. For Dar, the experience usually left her with a crick in her neck and so she brushed her teeth and splashed some water on her face as quickly as she could. The nap had definitely cleared her head, but now that she was awake, the uncertainty of what was going on below was starting to gnaw at her again.
She checked her watch. Kerry was up and working by now, she was sure. It was maddening to know her partner was in the middle of who knows what and not be able to help. Not that she thought Kerry needed her in
order to do her job--her performance the day before amply demonstrated that--but they were in uncharted territory right now and she had the greater experience.
Dar gazed at her reflection in the mirror, seeing the somber furrow in her brow. "She's going to be fine," she told herself. "She's just going to Herndon, and she knows how to deflect someone if she has to."
Kerry did. She could politely, charmingly, and warmly tell the most demanding, insistent customer they weren't going to get what they wanted and leave them unable to voice a complaint about it. Dar had seen her do it on more than one occasion, and she had no doubt she could handle whatever request awaited her there.
She studied the blue eyes reflected in the glass surface. "So why are you chewing nails?"
Was she afraid Kerry would do so well, she'd show how much she didn't need the support? Dar's nose wrinkled. "Yeesh I hope not." She really didn't think so, though. It was actually a pleasure to be able to count on someone and not have to worry about babysitting them at work.
Was she worried her prolonged contact with her family would change the way she felt about anything? About anyone? Dar watched her own eyebrow lift, and her lips curve into a smile. No. She was not worried about that.
She was, she reasoned, worried about the person she loved most in the world simply because that's what people in love did. They worried.
She packed up her kit and bumped the door open, emerging into the main cabin of the plane and restoring her sundries to her bag. Alastair had turned his reading light off, and was standing near the front of the plane, peering out the window in the boarding door. "See any good birds?"
"I see a lot of ocean," Alastair responded. "Imagine what it was like for the first fellas who crossed that thing in a boat. That took a lot of guts."
"It's a big ocean," Dar agreed, coming over to stand by him. "I've only sailed part of it, and those long stretches of only water really hit you sometimes," she said. "And I've been caught in storms that made me wonder how sun and star navigators ever made it across."
"Ah yes. Captain Roberts, isn't it?" Alastair glanced at her, with a grin.
