He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I have to make sure he’s okay.”
“I know you do. I agree with you on that. So we’re gettin’ a private jet to fly you to Ithaca. No questions asked. No commercial airline. Nobody to follow you. As far as anyone knows, you’ll still be holed up at the ranch.”
He shook his head slowly. “Where are we supposed to get a private jet?”
“Hon,” she said, with a look that pitied his lack of knowledge. “My family owns one of the biggest operations in seven counties. We know people. Most of them owe one or more of us a favor. And some of those favor-owers have private jets.”
He looked her way. “I keep forgettin’. You all seem so…”
“What? Hayseed? Redneck?”
“Down to earth,” he said. “Relatable. I want to say ordinary, but the truth is your family is far from it.”
“Oh,” she said. “Thanks. I agree.”
“The private jet’s a good idea.”
“Because if nobody knows you’re goin’ up there, you won’t put your father in danger by bein’ near him,” she said.
He nodded.
“And so, by extension, I wouldn’t be in any danger from your proximity, either.”
He frowned at her, realizing she had tricked him with logic. “Not that it will matter, with you in Texas and me in New York,” he said.
“Oh, no. I’ll be in New York, too.” She took her eyes off the road long enough to look right into his. “I come with the plane.”
She came with the plane.
Harrison didn’t have to spend the night at the ranch, because three hours later he was sitting in the most comfortable airplane seat in existence. It was one of six plush seats, in sets of two, facing one another. There was also a small sofa, full bathroom, a galley with coffee maker, and a mini fridge full of beverages.
“I had no idea private jets were like… flying campers,” he said.
“It’d have to be anicecamper. This thing’s amazin’.” Maria was rummaging in the mini fridge. She popped the top on a Coke, ignoring the wine bottle with the gift card dangling from its neck. Harrison had been too curious not to read the card. “Always happy to lend a hand.” It was signed, “Senator Mark Tompkins.”
“Pilot said four hours,” Maria said, nodding toward the closed and locked door between the cockpit and the passenger area. “There’s a TV.” She made that part a question.
He nodded and she located a remote and started flipping through the available selections. When they both said, “Oh!” at the same time, she was onO Brother, Where Art Thou?She looked back at him. “You love this one, too?”
He shrugged. “It’s a good movie.”
“One of my faves.”
It had been his mom’s favorite, as well. They’d watched it every year on her birthday. She’d loved movies. For a moment, his mother stood there in front of him, gauzy and beautiful. She was smiling and turning in a circle, holding the skirts of a long blue sundress she’d worn on one of those birthdays. Her head was angled downward, eyes up, smile bright.
Maria clicked play then returned to rummaging. She found a package of chocolate chip cookies, and returned to her seat, swiveling it so they both faced the screen.
When she offered him a cookie, he took one and a dewy can. Then he tried to focus on the movie but failed. And thecookie didn’t appeal, which meant the world was off its axis. He checked his phone to see if Lily had replied, and then he tried to track her phone from his. He and Lily had convinced their father to enable this feature for them both by saying they were all doing it for each other, so none of them would ever be lost.
He’d never had reason to use it.
The app said his sister’s phone was offline.
Maria slid her hand over his. It was cool from the Coke can, and he found that soothing, for some reason. He wanted to flip his hand over, interlace their fingers, and give a squeeze. But he didn’t. He was trying not to lead her on. There was no future for them.
She took her hand away and returned to looking at the TV screen, munching her cookie, sipping cola. He set his drink in the cup holder untouched and willed the time to pass quickly. They were all alone. The pilot was behind a locked door and oblivious to them. The movie was playing with what might’ve been the greatest soundtrack of all time.
Maria fished a little packet of wet wipes from her bag and offered him one.