Southbound Read online

  I also felt anxious because I’d put Grandma’s ashes in my luggage to take with me, even though I wasn’t entirely clear on the rules of that. I had hoped it would get through without too many questions, but as I waited to check my bag I had second thoughts about it. If someone asked me directly if I was carrying remains, how would I answer? If I told the truth, would it get me in trouble? More trouble than if I lied?

  I finally got to the check-in desk and took a deep breath, filling out a luggage tag while the woman at the desk pulled up my details. “Oh! You’re going on to Key West? Odd time of year for it,” she remarked.

  “Yeah, I’m going to...to a funeral for my grandmother,” I said, trying to think of a way to phrase what I was doing without arousing suspicion.

  The woman looked up. “You’re traveling for a funeral?”

  I nodded. It was as close to the truth as I could get. “Yeah--I mean, I guess it’s technically a memorial, since she passed a few months ago.”

  The woman looked at me for a long moment and then pressed her lips together. “We have a few upgrades available for first class,” she said quietly. “Normally it’s an up-charge of about eight hundred dollars, but since it’s such a sad occasion, I think I can get you upgraded for free.”

  I stared at her in shock for a moment. “If--if you could that would be amazing.”

  The woman smiled at me. “I lost my grandmother a year ago,” she explained. “Were you close? My granny practically raised me.”

  I smiled back at her and nodded. “We were very close,” I said. “She was the best.”

  “Let me just call my supervisor to make sure I can override the charge,” the woman said, and I saw that she was tearing up a bit.

  I finished filling out my luggage tag, and by the time I was done, she was printing out documents.

  “I really appreciate you trying this for me,” I said, feeling almost awkward.

  The woman gave me another smile. “I know when I lost my Granny, I was pretty much wrecked,” she said. “Anything we can do for you to make it easier, we’re happy to do. So--you’re in first class through your connection in Charlotte. You’ll board first, and as a first-class passenger you should be able to get through security a bit faster--you’ll be in priority. If there are any delays, you can hang out in the first-class lounge, where there’s usually food and drink, free Wi-fi and charging stations, and so on.”

  I nodded to all of her points and she put the luggage tag on my suitcase, made sure I didn’t need anything for my carry-on, and gave me a parting smile.

  I was grateful for the priority lane as I went through security, seeing the slightly herd-like movements of the people going through the rest of the lines to reach their gates. I worried about the urn in my suitcase, going through the different systems surrounding baggage for the cargo section, but I couldn’t let myself dwell on it. Either they would or they wouldn’t let my luggage through, and either I would or I wouldn’t have to deal with lost baggage. Maybe having a first-class ticket would make it easier to get things through, and maybe they’d be a little more careful of my luggage.

  The flight down to Charlotte was so surreal I couldn’t even fully process it. I boarded first, and it was obvious that no one around me--save the gate personnel--thought that I belonged, considering everyone else in the section seemed to be either in designer clothing or in suits, and I’d chosen my most comfortable-yet-presentable outfit to travel in. I’d known it was going to be a good ten to twenty degrees hotter in Key West than it was in Connecticut, so I’d wanted something that wouldn’t leave me dripping in sweat. But despite the weirdness of me not fitting in, the seats in First were so much more comfortable than I’d thought possible, and the flight attendants kept checking while everyone else boarded, making sure I didn’t need a drink, or something to eat, or anything else for my comfort.

  I still felt a little groggy when the plane arrived at Charlotte, but I had decided to go through the dreamy weirdness of it all as patiently and as invisibly as possible. I made it to my gate with time to spare, and sat watching people. There was a man a few feet away from me who piqued my interest a bit. He was tall--I thought he looked to be nearly a foot taller than me--with shaggy brown hair that framed a tanned face, with bright blue eyes. Looking at his outfit, and his hair, I might not have noticed that he was actually very well-groomed; his jeans were, when I saw the label in the back, designer brand, and his dress shirt had no logos, but the quality of it made me think that it was probably also from a designer. I made wagers back and forth in my mind as to which section he would be in--first, business, or coach--though it seemed as though the flight wasn’t all that big, anyway.

  They called for first-class passengers. He got up, grabbed his carry-on, and then both of us were heading for the gate proper, getting into the line for priority boarding. He was a few people in front of me, but I still thought he seemed more interesting than the other handful of first-class passengers in line. With my luck, I thought, he would be seated on the opposite end of the cabin from me.

  But then, when I actually made my way to my seat in First, I saw the same man sitting across the aisle. He was right next to me, doing something on his phone, already relaxed with a drink in his cup-holder. He glanced up as I sat in my own seat. I felt conspicuous again in my comfortable clothes.

  “I think you might be the youngest person in first class,” he said, giving he a quick smile.

  “I’m pretty much here on pity,” I said wryly.

  He raised one of his shaggy, dark eyebrows, looking curious.

  “Courtesy upgrade,” I explained.

  “Don’t let anyone here tell you that you didn’t earn it,” he said. “Some folks who fly First regularly seem to think they were born to it.”

  I noticed a few people who’d already boarded were silently taking exception to that comment.

  “Well, the upgrade is pretty expensive,” I pointed out.

  “Money isn’t everything--and spending money isn’t everything,” he said, shrugging.

  The flight attendant came by and asked if I wanted a drink or a hot towel--anything to help make me comfortable.

  The guy leaned toward me slightly, over the arm of his chair. “Get all the perks you can out of them,” he suggested.

  “A drink would be wonderful,” I told the flight attendant, trying not to laugh.

  “Would you like a cocktail? A glass of complimentary champagne? I can also get you a hot beverage,” she suggested.

  “I would love a glass of champagne,” I said, thinking about Grandma. She would have given me the same advice that the man across the aisle from me had given, I was sure of it. For a moment I thought about the fact that I would never get to tell her about my experience flying First Class, and sadness welled up in my chest and in my throat, yet again. I was getting tired of feeling that grief--it was so hard to predict, and it hurt just as badly every time it washed through me.

  Soon enough the flight had taken off, and I settled in for the next several hours, telling myself that I would be in the Keys soon, and that I’d be able to see the places that Grandma had visited, where she’d met Grandpa. Then I could scatter her ashes and put my main task behind me. The flight attendants came through and took orders, and as they were moving to bring food and more drinks out, the man seated across the aisle turned to me once more.

  “This is an odd time of year to go to Key West, with it being hurricane season,” he remarked.

  “Same could be said for anyone on the plane,” I said.

  “That’s true enough,” he said with a chuckle. “But at least here in First, most of the people going to the Keys probably live there, or have businesses there.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not a...a happy reason, for me to go there,” I admitted.

  “I figured as much from the courtesy upgrade,” he said. He extended his hand across the aisle to me. “Gage Hawkins. And you are?”

  “Aspen Blake,” I replied. “I’m...my grandmothe
r recently passed away.”

  I shook his hand and let go of it, feeling strangely awkward--not in the normal way I sometimes felt weird talking to strangers, but with a kind of fluttery feeling, mingled with the fear that I was going to prove I didn’t belong in the same cabin as him and the others up here.

  “And you’re going to the Keys to be with family? Or something of that nature?”

  I shook my head.

  “She was pretty much the only family--close family--I had left,” I explained. I hesitated for a moment, but with two glasses of free champagne in me, I wasn’t as guarded as I might normally be. “I’m going to find where she met my grandfather. I promised her I would scatter her ashes there--the same as she did with my Grandpa about twenty years ago.”

  “That’s quite the mission,” Gage said, nodding slowly. “Do you know the spot you’re looking for?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve got some clues, from her journals--but I don’t know the exact spot.”

  “Well, I live in Key West,” Gage said. “If you’re in need of help, I can probably lend a hand.”

  I smiled, but the thought of asking for help in my mission--even from a guy as cute as Gage--was less than fully appealing. I wanted to be alone, to discover Key West as close to the way that my grandmother had as possible. I had her journals, I had a few mementos she’d kept from her time there, and I had my brains. I could make do.

  “I think I’ll be okay,” I said. “And anyway, it’s kind of...it’s the sort of thing I’d probably be better off doing alone.”

  “Key West--the Keys in general--can be a tricky place to navigate with all the development going on,” Gage pointed out. “You can figure it out on your own, I’m sure, but if you want any help, let me know.”

  I shrugged again. His advice wasn’t exactly welcome right now so I focused on the meal the flight attendant brought me.

  When I was finished, I looked over at him again. Despite not wanting his help, I was curious about this guy. “What about you?” I asked. “What brings you to the Keys?”

  He sat back in his seat a little bit and smiled slightly. “I live there--part of the year, at least,” he said. “I do a lot of my business from home, and Key West is a good place to have headquarters.”

  “Sounds like you set yourself up in paradise,” I said.

  “It’s a nice place to live,” he agreed, smiling. “As long as you don’t mind hurricanes, mosquitos, and being surrounded by tourists wherever you go.”

  I chuckled at that. “Are hurricanes really that bad? They seem pretty scary.”

  Gage shrugged. “When you’re in them--if you live somewhere that’s secure against them--they’re mostly boring,” he told me. “Lots of rain and wind, thunder and lightning. You’re stuck inside for hours, maybe a whole day or more. Not much to do, especially if and when the electricity goes out.”

  “I assume the electricity generally does go out,” I said.

  “Oh yeah--it’s a matter of when, more than if,” Gage agreed. “But I’ve got generators. Most people living on the islands have at least a small generator to keep a fridge running or something like that. It can take a while for things to get back to normal.”

  We continued talking about the Keys, about things to see and do in the area, and Gage told me that when I’d completed my mission I should definitely take some time to enjoy myself, as sad as my errand was. I made a promise to him that I would take some time to just have fun and do some cheesy tourist things, for the sake of making my own memories.

  By the time we landed, it was pouring outside--and I was glad we’d be getting off the plane through one of those attached tubes instead of walking across the jetway. As the people in front of us in First Class started filing off, Gage turned to me again.

  “I know you don’t want my help, but in case you change your mind, I thought I would give you this.” He handed me a business card; it had his name and picture on it, along with two phone numbers, an email address, and his personal address.

  “Thanks.” I tucked it into my carry-on obediently, but I didn’t think I would be getting in touch with the guy.

  Cute as he was, and single as he seemed to be--there was no ring on his finger, at least--any kind of flirtation would just be a distraction. I would figure out Grandma’s final request first, and then I’d see where I stood in the world, see what I wanted to do with myself. By then, I was pretty sure, Gage would have forgotten all about me anyway.

  Chapter Five

  Gage

  “Do you have a place to stay? And a way to get around?” I asked.

  Aspen started a bit at my question, and I realized she’d been lost in thought as we’d gotten off the plane. We both slowed down to let the other passengers pass us, and I watched her thinking about the questions I’d asked her.

  She was cute. I’d noticed her even at the gate—brown hair in a ponytail, brown eyes framed by thick, curling lashes, and the slim-curvy body dressed in comfortable soft pants and a t-shirt, with a light cardigan over it. She didn’t look like anyone else in first class, and that was part of what had pushed me to start talking to her.

  “I have a hotel,” she said. “I’m supposed to pick up my rental car, but I have no idea…” she shook her head and smiled. “But I think--don’t airports usually have some kind of shuttle service to rental pickups, things like that?”

  I nodded. “I’m pretty sure the rental counters are attached to the airport here, anyway.” It had been ages since I’d rented a car, so I wasn’t sure--but I thought I remembered seeing the rental lots the times I’d come through. “If you run into any trouble, please call me.”

  I stopped her and made her meet my gaze as she promised, but as we split ways--her headed for baggage claim, and me for the exit--I didn’t have much faith that she meant it, even still.

  Of course, it had occurred to me that someone with fiery depths in their eyes like Aspen had would have a fiercely independent streak, but Aspen also didn’t seem to be a fool; I had to figure that if she did, legitimately, run into any trouble during her stay in the islands, she would get in touch. I glanced at her again, just catching the sight of her back as she turned the corner, and shook my head to myself. If it wouldn’t have seemed creepy, I would have offered her one of the guest rooms at my place.

  The storm outside had deepened even in just the time that it had taken to get across the airport to the exit, so I was glad that I had my own car, with fresh tires on it, waiting for me in the parking structure. I thought about Aspen again as I stowed my carry-on in the trunk and quickly went around to the driver’s seat. It was going to be a night of heavy weather, which wasn’t too unusual for summer in the Keys, but I didn’t envy Aspen at all having to drive without any real experience in tropical thunderstorms. It was going to be hard enough to navigate in the late afternoon with half the island starting to get up and go out--it would be harder still to do it in the rain.

  But that was her problem, I told myself. Mine was getting back to the house I owned. I maneuvered out of the parking structure and headed onto the road leading away from the airport. It was slow going, between the rain and the people milling about on Roosevelt before it turned to Truman, but I managed to reach my little piece of heaven in Truman Annex: it was a couple of blocks away from Mallory Square, with three bedrooms and bathrooms, more than I needed--but it was two stories with beautiful, classic Keys architecture of big windows to catch the cross-breeze.

  I’d paid almost as much to complete renovations and alterations to my place as I had to buy it in the first place, but it was more than worth it to me. I climbed out of my car after the gate closed behind me automatically. Barking echoed from inside the house—Roscoe. I smiled to myself, imagining the big guy going nuts inside, and hurried up the steps to get to the door. My neighbor, Ben, had been taking care of him while I was out of town on business, but I was sure he’d heard my car in the drive.

  “Roscoe!” I unlocked the door and Roscoe barreled out of it, almos
t knocking me over and immediately starting to lick my hands, my knee, anywhere he could get close to, his tail wagging so hard and fast it whipped me across the calves as he turned around in circles.

  I knelt down and let him get his fill of sniffing and licking me while I petted him, feeling glad to just be home. Roscoe would need to go out, but it was still pouring at the moment.

  Once Roscoe calmed down, I went into my house properly and found that Ben had left me a note. Gave Roscoe his heartworm medicine, and the flea spot on the back of his neck this morning. Should be good to go by the time you get in--Jeannie had me leave you some of the key lime pie she made for the party yesterday, so that’s in the fridge.

  I chuckled to myself at that, thanking the fact that Jeannie, Ben’s girlfriend, had thrown her party while I was out of town. She made some of the best key lime pie on the island, so it was a treat to get a couple of pieces of it.

  I finally let Roscoe out into the backyard, and he grumbled as he had to go out into the rain, but his full bladder was apparently more important to him. I checked my phone while I supervised. I’d gotten two emails about a real estate prospect I’d been tentatively looking into, and two more about the business--but those could wait until the next day. As far as anyone in the industry was concerned, I was out of town on vacation, even if I’d actually been taking care of some legal paperwork on another interest I had, parallel to the projects on-island.

  I wondered how Aspen was doing, if she’d managed to get her rental car and find her way to wherever she was staying. I ate one of the slices of pie and put the other aside for until after I had some real food in my stomach.

  I wished that I’d managed to get Aspen’s number instead of just giving her my card, but that would have been as creepy as inviting her to my place to stay.