“What’s going on?” Owen’s sleepy voice accompanied the look of him in flannel pajamas and tired eyes.
“Snow. Tons of it. I need to shovel the driveway to get out.”
Owen moved to the window and smiled. “Is school canceled?”
“How do I know? Do they announce that somewhere?”
“Check your phone. I think the school calls with announcements.”
She started back up the stairs, yelled behind her, “I know work isn’t canceled, so get dressed and help me shovel.”
Sure enough, the school had sent an automessage, informing her that Owen’s district was canceled for the day, making sure all parents knew that a day would be tacked on at the end of the year to make up for it.
Owen was back in his room, pulling a sweatshirt over his head.
“One of us gets to play hooky.”
“Nice!” Owen beamed with excitement.
Rachel opened the garage door and sighed. “How the hell am I getting to work?” Two feet of snow blanketed everything, and it had blown up against the house, leaving drifts closer to thirty inches. The road hadn’t been plowed yet. “Damn, damn, damn. I should have set my alarm an hour early.”
She dug in the back of her car and found the chains Jason had given her as a thank-you, and removed them from the bag. There weren’t any instructions, just warnings that using the right size chains for your car was imperative for safe driving. In big red letters the bag told her not to exceed thirty miles per hour. “Shit.” Getting to a plowed road and removing them would have to happen. “Still gonna be late.”
The garage door opened and Owen walked out. “Wow.”
She glanced up from where she was laying the chains behind her tires so she could drive onto them before securing them.
Owen had his cell phone in hand. She’d bet money he’d already posted pictures on Instagram.
“Grab a shovel, dude.”
The previous owners had left an old, rusty flat shovel, but not one of those broad ones used for snow. Owen picked it up and dug in.
There wasn’t enough room to back onto the chains until some of the snow was cleared.
“Why don’t you just call in sick?” Owen said after they’d been shoveling for ten minutes. All Rachel had to work with was a pointy-head shovel that didn’t move much of anything.
“Because I told them I’d be there.”
“Are you going to take the train?” Owen leaned on his shovel and pulled out his cell phone.
“I can make it.” She kept shoveling.
“I don’t know. This looks pretty bad.” He turned the screen toward her and showed her all the red on the freeways.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
Owen blinked at her a few times, the snow dropping around them in big flakes.
“Why don’t you get ready for work, I’ll do this,” he told her.
She looked down at the jeans she’d tossed on. “Good idea. Thanks.”
Sitting over a cup of coffee and the newspaper on his tablet, Jason watched the snow from the kitchen window. How he’d loved the first snow of the season as a kid. The land surrounding the house was nothing but a sea of white that screamed for him and his brothers to go and sled, build stupid snowmen . . . bury each other in it. He remembered Shadow, a big black lab that bounced around them during snowball fights, chasing the ammo they tossed at each other.
The ranch had plenty of great memories.
The screen on his phone flashed, and Owen’s name popped up. You work in the city, right?
Yup, why?
Two seconds later Owen sent a picture of Rachel’s car in her garage, snow piled up around a partially cleared driveway.
Jason left his coffee and grabbed his keys.
On my way. Don’t let her leave.
Owen’s response was a thumbs-up emoji.
Did Rachel really think she was driving in to work?
When he arrived, she had backed onto the chains and was attempting to secure them around the wheels. The task wasn’t easy for a seasoned player; for Rachel, Jason imagined it was nearly impossible. He pulled his Jeep up along her driveway and kept the engine going.
“Hey, you.”
Rachel looked up. “What?”
Jason waved, glanced at Owen, and smiled.
She stood and turned to Owen. “Did you call him?”
Owen grinned. “Maybe.”
“Need a ride?” Jason walked up the drive, his boots sinking into the snow.
Rachel’s cheeks were red from the cold, and the snow caught on the edges of her hair sticking out from the beanie on her head.
She glanced between him and Owen, then at the road beyond.
“We’re headed in the same direction, Rachel.”
She stared at her car. “Fine.”
When she turned to grab her purse, Jason stuck his hand out for Owen to slap.
Rachel paused next to Owen. “Stay warm, have fun, don’t get hurt.”
“Got it.”
Jason walked her to his Jeep and opened the door.
“Hey, Rachel?” Owen called out.
“Yeah?”
“Stay warm, have fun . . . and don’t get hurt.”
It was good to hear her laugh.
Jason tucked behind the wheel and waved as they pulled away. “He’s a great kid.”
“I can’t believe he called you.” She pulled off her gloves and removed her hat. The static in her hair had it going everywhere.
“I can’t believe you were going to drive in this.”
“I would have made it.”
He laughed. “By noon tomorrow. Were you really going to drive all the way in?”
The four-wheel drive ate the snow as they drove through. He couldn’t imagine a two-wheel-drive anything doing the same.
“That’s what the chains are for, right?”
“Chains will help you around town, to the train station.”
Rachel tensed, looked out the window. “We’re taking the train?”
“Yup.”
He heard her gulp.
“It’s gotta happen sometime, hon.”
“Oh, geez.”
He reached over, patted her hand resting in her lap. “I’ve got ya covered. Don’t worry.”
Still, she fidgeted all the way to the station.
By the time they parked, the lot was nearly full. Jason had come to the conclusion that Rachel reacted to anxiety with silence. She’d offered one-word answers to his questions on the drive and flexed her fingers many times, as if easing her tension.
He walked her through the process of buying a pass for the train, not that she couldn’t figure it out. But since her eyes were wide and constantly looking around, he felt the need to point everything out.
“There’s a lot of people,” she said as they waited on the platform.
“Driving in on a day like this isn’t smart. Not only would it take you hours, but the chance of someone driving you off the road is too great.”
She forced a grin and stepped closer as other people pushed in.
“You’ll get used to it,” he said when the train rolled up. “And the pickpockets are all sleeping in.”
She hesitated.
Jason took her hand and pulled her inside. They were early enough in the run to have open seats, which he took advantage of.
The trains and subways leading into the city had changed over the years, cleaner and safer . . . a place where everyone from street performers to politicians could occupy the same space with the same goals.
With her hands in her lap, she glanced over. “Now what?”
“We have one stop to switch trains once we hit Manhattan in about fifty minutes.”
She tapped her fingers. “So what do we do now?”
He looked around. There were already people with their heads back, eyes closed, purses and briefcases held close. There was more than one person with a laptop open, and even more listening to music on their cell phones.
> “I’ll tell you what we’re not going to do,” he said. “We’re not going to honk our horns, or slam on our brakes . . . or sit at a dead stop, watching the time.” Not that he watched much of the time. If he was that crunched or due in a meeting that couldn’t be rescheduled, he would use the company helicopter that sat in a hangar on the property. Maybe not on a morning like this, where the sky was too dark and the ceiling too low to fly, but on a normal shitty driving day, he would.
When the train slowed down to stop and pick up more passengers, Rachel sat taller.
He reached over and grabbed her hand. “Is it the people?” he asked.
“It’s just new. I think. I’m fine.”
No, she wasn’t, but he was determined to make sure she was. Across from them a man had fallen asleep, his jaw slacked open. The woman sitting next to him kept looking at him.
“Shall we lay bets on how long before his head bounces on her shoulder?” he asked Rachel.
She smiled and stared until the woman beside the sleeping man looked over.
Rachel looked down and talked over her shoulder. “Five minutes.”
“I’m guessing three.”
Rachel glanced up briefly. “How will she wake him up? Nudge or noise.”
“Both.”
For the next four minutes, they took turns watching until the man’s head drifted too close to the woman.
She shifted in her seat, and his head bounced back up, eyes open.
Rachel bit her lips together to keep from laughing.
Jason nudged her leg with his, pointed out a kid not much older than Owen, bopping his head to the music he was listening to.
“I’m thinking he’s a musician.”
“He has the face for theater,” she whispered.
For the next fifty minutes they sat while the train filled to standing room only, talking about the people and laying bets on other people’s behaviors.
And Rachel stopped fidgeting. Twice Jason found his hand covering hers, and once he looked down to see her hand on top of his.
Once in Manhattan, she followed close behind as they switched trains. He pointed out the trains that went uptown and which ones went downtown. They stood facing each other and holding on to a pole. A couple of times, he held on to her when the train took off or came to a stop. Unlike the first leg, this time she jumped right into talking about anything and everything. When he led her from the subway and onto the snowy streets of Manhattan, she was chatting like she always did.
She glanced at her watch. “I still have twenty minutes.”
He started walking toward their building.
Rachel’s legs didn’t move.
“What?”
“We can’t walk in together.”
“Why not?”
“People will talk.” She looked around.
“About how we were on the subway at the same time?”
“They will assume something else.”
He pulled her to the side of a building and away from the mass of people, all trying to get to work on time.
“Which we both know is just an assumption.”
She sighed and looked at him as if he had only half a working brain. “Rumors are bad, Jason. I can’t deal with that right now. Melissa already thinks I want her job. Julie is starting to look at me funny after every meeting. Gerald just stares.” She grasped his hands in hers. “Just wait here two minutes, let me go in first.”
“You’re serious.” He was amused.
“Please.” She blinked a few times. The overly animated movement of her eyelashes said she was trying to sway him with a smile.
Which worked.
“This is ridiculous.” He shifted on his feet, knowing he wasn’t moving for two whole minutes.
“Thank you, Jason.”
She leaned forward, kissed his cheek, and then walked away.
Chapter Thirteen
Rachel took great pride when Gerald paused by her desk, thirty minutes past eight, and stared.
“You’re late,” she told him, teasing. “I hope you don’t make this a normal thing when it snows. I mean, we do have snow here in Manhattan.”
“What the . . . ?”
She grabbed her coffee cup, looked inside. “I could use a refill. Want one?”
Julie snickered from her cubby.
An hour later she snuck into the break room and texted Jason. Thank you.
He’d been such a sport, letting her walk in without him. She was sure he understood her position, but still, considering how he had gone out of his way to help her through her virginal stint on the train, he took waiting in the cold well.
You’re welcome.
Let me know when you’re leaving and I’ll meet you at the station.
She waited while his dot, dot, dot filled her screen.
You sure you don’t want to stagger our departure by ten minutes to avoid wagging tongues?
She’d considered that, actually.
The risk of me missing my stop outweighs the possibility of seeing people I know on the subway.
Ha. I see how this is.
She smiled into her phone. Have a great day.
You, too. Now get to work. I’m not paying you to stand around and flirt.
Rachel tossed her head back. If I were flirting, you’d know it. Okay . . . that bordered on flirting.
Looking forward to it.
She couldn’t text fast enough. Someone is cocky.
Someone is fooling herself.
Why was she giddy inside?
Am not!
Are too.
Were they suddenly five years old again?
Two hours later she replied a second time.
Am not!!!
Half his staff was late, a quarter of them didn’t even bother showing up at all, and the other quarter kept watching him as he went about his day. Jason didn’t care.
Rachel had placed a smile on his face the minute she jumped into his Jeep without argument.
And she was flirting with him.
Good, old-fashioned flirting that resulted in silly smiles and warm, tingling shivers deep inside his chest.
He soared through his day. It helped that two of his outside appointments canceled due to the weather. Audrey kept eyeing him; twice she asked him what had him smiling. Twice he told her he had a lot to smile about.
The hours rolled down to the end of the day. The snow had stopped by noon, leaving three feet on the roads and creating havoc most of the day. The same staff that showed up late left early.
Audrey poked her head into his office by four thirty. “Hey, if you don’t mind . . .”
“Go,” he encouraged.
“See you in the morning.”
He waved her off and picked up his cell phone.
Leaving in twenty minutes. He sent the text to Rachel and waited for her reply.
Street level at the station?
Perfect.
Yep, he had it bad. What was worse, he didn’t care.
He saw her a block away. How that was possible in a sea of people all rushing to leave the city, he didn’t know. But Rachel stood like a beacon for him to find.
She waved when she noticed him. “This is nuts.”
The crowd was much thicker on the way home.
“It will thin out on the second train.”
She moved beside him down the steps and into the Manhattan subway. On the platform, people stood behind the line, waiting for the train to arrive. Street performers played by the walls, making the already loud space deafening.
Unlike the ride in, Rachel pushed into the car when it arrived and found a pole to hold on to while the train moved. Jason had no choice but to push in close, not that he minded. Rachel smiled when he slid up next to her.
“Did you have a good day?” he asked, not sure how the small talk was going to work out.
“I did. You?”
“The snow slowed things down in the office.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
&
nbsp; “It made for some trouble with flights, but it all worked out. Safety first and all that.”
She shook her head. “Sometimes I forget that there are actual Fairchild planes out there, flying every day and night.”
“That’s the goal.”
The train stopped, people shoved in . . . Jason moved closer.
“Do you like flying?” she asked.
“Love it.”
“Do you get up there often?”
He shook his head yes, then no. “No. Glen, Trent, and I force each other to fly with each other at least once a year. I fly more, but it’s the transatlantic flight that reminds me why I love it so much.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, something about taking the controls and leaving one country and landing in another.”
“Why don’t you do it more?”
“Work, obligations. There is always so much to do here.”
“But you’re the boss.”
“Which means I’m responsible.”
Rachel shook her head.
“For everyone.” That felt strange to say aloud. “I’m not even sure how many employees we have right now. Pilots and mechanics all over the world, everyone in this office, the one in London. A lot of households depend on what we do to put food on the table. My father never lost sight of that.”
“And you took over for your father when he died.”
She was staring at him, a softness in her eyes.
“Firstborn. It was implied.”
“It wasn’t in writing?”
“My parents left it up to us. Glen, Trent, and I got pissing drunk after their death and decided what was best.”
Jason noted the station they were at; they had one more stop before they had to switch trains.
“Did you really want to take over all of it?”
He looked directly into her eyes. “Did you really want to become a mother to a teenager?”
Instead of answering, she slowly smiled with a nod. “Still glad I did.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Jason was fairly certain that was the first time he’d ever confessed his feelings about taking over for his father.
They switched trains and found a place to sit for the remainder of their commute.
“How is it Owen is so well-adjusted?” he asked.
“Emily.” The name apparently answered the question for her. “She was fire and light. There wasn’t a thing in this world she was afraid of trying to conquer. I didn’t know her when she had Owen, but she replayed enough of that part of her life with me, it felt as if I was there.”
Not Quite Crazy Page 14
