Page 78 of Under Southern Stars
She settles into her seat with a small sigh of appreciation. “This is…not what I was expecting.”
“Good surprise?”
“Very good.” She squeezes my hand. “Though I did pack those compression socks for nothing.”
“Still wouldn’t hurt to wear them. And stick to the getting up and moving schedule. DVTs are no joke.”
She laughs. “Says the man who just upgraded us.”
“Medical professional,” I remind her. “Safety first, luxury second.”
As the plane fills around us, I watch Sophia. She runs her fingers over the amenity kit, examines the larger entertainment screen, tests the footrest. Small luxuries that are nothing compared to what waits for her in New Zealand, but her appreciation makes something warm unfurl in my chest.
This woman who works so hard, who carries so much, who deserves every comfort I can give her—she is genuinely pleased with Premium Economy. What will she make of the estate? The staff? The McKenzie name that is known throughout the region?
I push the thought away. One step at a time.
Once we are airborne, the cabin crew begins the meal service. Madison appears briefly from Business Premier, still euphoric.
“Mom! They gave me REAL menus. And hot towels! And the seat goes completely flat!” She demonstrates with her hands. “The flight attendant says I can order whenever I want. And there’s ice cream sundaes!”
“That’s wonderful, sweetie,” Sophia says, clearly enjoying her daughter’s excitement. “Just don’t overdo it, okay? Remember your stomach on the Springfield roller coaster.”
Madison makes a face. “That was different. This is fancy food.” She turns to me. “Thank you, Jack. This is the coolest thing ever.”
“You’re welcome, Madison. Glad you’re enjoying it.”
She leans closer, lowering her voice. “The guy across from me is, like, definitely someone important. He has monogrammed cufflinks.”
“Very fancy,” I agree solemnly.
“I’m going back to watch a movie on my gigantic screen.” She practically skips back to Business.
“You’ve made her entire year,” Sophia says, watching her go.
“Good. She deserves it.”
The flight attendant brings our own Premium Economy meals—not quite Business Premier standard, but still quite good. Sophia opts for the wine, and I join her. The Air New Zealand Pinot Noir is not from the McKenzie Estate, thankfully, though I recognize it from a neighboring vineyard.
After dinner, we settle in to watch a movie together. The cabin lights dim, creating a cocoon of semi-privacy. I put my arm around Sophia’s shoulders, and she nestles against me.
“This was thoughtful,” she murmurs, halfway through the film. “All of it.”
“Just the beginning,” I reply, pressing a kiss to her hair.
“Madison’s so excited to see New Zealand. Your home.”
“I can’t wait to show you both.”
“Tell me more about your family,” she says, looking up at me. “What makes them your family? Something you love about each of them.”
The question catches me off guard, digging deeper than her previous inquiries. I think for a moment.
“Charlotte has this laugh,” I say finally. “She’s serious most of the time—all business and efficiency—but when something really gets her, she has this laugh that sounds exactly like she did when she was five. Completely unguarded. Makes everyone around her laugh too, even if they don’t know what’s funny.”
Sophia smiles. “I can picture that.”
“Emma collects vintage rugby jerseys. Not valuable ones, necessarily—just ones with stories. She has this ancient, moth-eaten Otago jersey that belonged to our great-grandfather. She wears it for good luck during important matches, even though Mum threatens to burn it every time she sees it.”
