Page 18 of Second Time Around
“I’m not complaining,” Kyra said, the tension in her throat easing at the news.
“Not a flyer?” Roxy’s voice was neutral but her raised eyebrows somehow expressed her scorn.
“Her first time in a helicopter,” Will said.
“So go easy on me,” Kyra added, her stomach still queasy with apprehension.
Roxy smiled. “No Rambo runs today, I promise.”
Will kept hold of Kyra’s elbow as she climbed the few steps into the helicopter’s cabin. Four large armchairs in the same cognac leather as the limo’s seats were arrayed around a polished wood console. She took one that faced forward, and Will dropped into the chair beside her.
“What’s a Rambo run?” she asked as she fastened her seat belt.
“A very illegal maneuver that involves flying low and fast up a river, generally between cliffs on either side. Don’t worry. There’s no chance of her doing it anywhere near New York City.”
The helicopter shuddered and began to vibrate, so Kyra assumed that Roxy had fired up the engine. She dug her fingers into the leather armrests as the aircraft rose and sideslipped toward the sparkling waves of the Hudson River.
“You’ll forget to be nervous once you look at the scenery,” Will said, obviously noticing her white-knuckled grip.
Kyra shifted in her seat to peer out the window. They were skimming over the New Jersey side of the Hudson River. She swallowed a gasp at the sight of roofs whizzing past far below them before transferring her gaze to the river. The tugboats pushing barges up and down the river left distinct Vs of wake behind them, and the white canvas on the masts of sailboats seemed to glow in the bright sunshine. The George Washington Bridge surged into view, its iron cables looking like fragile cobwebs while the cars crawled across its span like brightly colored ants.
She levered herself closer to the window, her concern overcome by her fascination. “It’s a map come to life.”
Will nodded. “As I predicted. You always enjoyed a new perspective.”
Pleasure at his words flashed through her. She turned to meet his gaze. “I did.” But somehow the excitement of new discoveries had slipped away from her. She’d been at Stratus for eight years, and at the Carver Center for six. Both jobs had settled into routines. Except for an occasional diversion like the dog food challenge.
She shoved aside all her dismal thoughts and turned back to the window, exclaiming over the varied sights that passed in and out of view.
As they got closer to his home, Will grew quieter, so she filled the tense air with a barrage of enthusiastic comments. However, when they circled Arion Farm, he moved to the chair facing her and looked through the same window.
“There’s the main house.” He pointed to a sprawling stone structure complete with turrets and a circular driveway with the lettersAFworked in the paving stones at the center. The lawns around it glowed emerald while a large rectangular swimming pool sparkled aquamarine blue.
It was Kyra’s turn to go quiet, as the extent of his family’s wealth and privilege was spread out beneath her in a way that was impossible to ignore. Her stomach felt hollow. She would never belong here.
“That’s the privet maze,” he said as the chopper passed over an intricate pattern of paths and hedges. “I shouldn’t let you see it from above. Makes it too easy to figure out how to get to the center.” The hint of a mischievous boy in his face nearly melted her. “See the oval of the riding ring? The stables are the buildings to the left of it. Schuyler will go hide there before the end of the party.”
“Maybe we could join her later? Horses are so beautiful.” As a child, Kyra had wanted to learn how to ride. However, she’d put that fantasy away because her parents thought it was a waste of money.
“Maybe you could borrow jeans and boots from Schuyler and go riding. I’ll even join you.”
Kyra sighed. Of course he could ride. He could do anything. “I don’t know how. I just like to pet them.”
“That’s the caretaker’s house. He was a nice guy, but his wife always looked like she’d just bitten into a lemon. Which meant that Schuyler and I would dare each other to play pranks on her.” He actually smiled at the memory. “There were some good ones.”
“Did you get in trouble?” She wanted to keep him talking about something that had happy associations for him.
He shook his head. “She never tattled to our parents, although she must have known it was us. I give her credit.”
Will would have been irresistible as a child, those amazing eyes unclouded by experience, his face alight with impish laughter, his charm and intelligence endearing rather than intimidating. Even a sourpuss would have been hard-pressed to stay angry with him.
“She secretly liked you both, I bet,” Kyra said.
“She hid it well. But her husband, George, snuck us her homemade cookies. Those were a high treat, partly because they were illicit.” A shadow crossed his face. “We didn’t get that kind of guilty pleasure at the big house.”
“Wait, this woman baked cookies, and it never occurred to you that they were meant for you and Schuyler? I think she played the grouch with you guys for fun.”
Will sat back in his seat, his gaze turned inward. “I never thought of that. Now I’m glad I went to her funeral two years ago.”
