Birdie smiled at the woman clearing dishes, even helped by reaching for the empty whisky glass of her seatmate. He didn’t stir an inch at the silent movement. Apparently he hadn’t been kidding when he said he wanted sleep.
When the attendants vacated the cabin, the man beside her shifted position, then gruffly said, “Thank you,” in barely more than a whisper.
Birdie leaned forward enough to see his chin. “You’re welcome. Go back to sleep,” she whispered.
The only response was a grunt as he pulled his coat closer about his body, then settled once more into soft, even, breathing.
Wanting to stretch her legs a bit, Birdie rose and made a circuit of the first class cabin. Drew and Meilin were dismayed at the lack of intimacy between their seats, since each one was designed to cocoon individual travelers in their own private space. Other than that, they too were settling down for a nap. Grandmother Robinson and Grandpa Dailey were already tucked in and snoozing in their separate, but side by side nests. Same with Meilin’s parents. Birdie only spared a brief thought for a few other members of the wedding party tucked back in business class. Dad was generous to a fault, but a line had to be drawn somewhere. As it was, her family pretty much commandeered half the exclusive cabin. The only person missing was Oswald.
Once more she wondered what had sent him scurrying for London a day early. Was she really so frightening a creature? Had she done something in her sleep that was inexcusable? Had she said she loved him while dreaming? Farted? What? And why hadn’t he taken her virginity? That’s probably what pissed her off the most. Like she wasn’t good enough for him. Or too young. Too innocent—she snorted out loud at that thought as she was returning to her seat.
Dad grabbed her wrist. “What’s up? Everything okay back there?” He nodded toward her seat mate.
“Yeah, everything’s good.” A thought occurred to her, and she narrowed her eyes on her father. “You know that guy?”
“That bloke? The one who looks like a washed up rocker? Probably a one hit wonder from the eighties and is still trying for a comeback.” With a twinkle in his eye, he spoke loud enough for the man to hear him. By the way he spoke over his shoulder, she guessed it was intentional. Mom looked up from her book with curiosity painted across her face.
And the arrow hit the target. The man shifted, his foot “accidentally” kicking Dad’s seat. Instead of getting annoyed, her father laughed. “Looks like I’m right.” He looked downright smug. “Time for a nap?”
At the word nap, Birdie raised a hand to cover her huge yawn. “Looks like it. See you later.”
When she woke a few hours later to the scent of hot food, she discovered someone had tucked a blanket around her. Her seatmate had one too. Sitting up straight, she rolled her neck and pushed the blanket aside. A rough grunt came from her left, and she turned to look at her now even scruffier looking companion.
“Aren’t you a little old to have Mummy tucking you in?” he muttered. Like he was one to talk with a blanket draped over him as well.
“You try telling her that,” Birdie challenged him.
He merely grunted and rolled the other way.
Ignoring him, she enjoyed her dinner, complete with wine and a decadent dessert. Her book was excellent company while she ate. Once the dishes were cleared away, she decided to stroll again, now that everyone was awake. She was sitting on the arm of her grandfather’s seat on the far side of the cabin when she noticed her seatmate get up and head for the lavatories. What she could see of him, what wasn’t covered by the hat and sunglasses he still wore, was tall and lean. He moved like a panther, all loose and relaxed looking, but one couldn’t miss the aura of power around him. More her mom’s type. Well, when Mom wasn’t drooling over her husband, Birdie snickered inside her head. Honestly, they were cute together.
She turned her attention back to her grandparents, but kept half an eye on her seat, waiting to see if her new friend stopped to talk to anyone. Well, he didn’t stop because he wanted to, but rather because her father stepped into his path.
“Excuse me,” she said to her grandparents and headed around the center row of seats to come up behind the stranger.
“So is this what old rocker gits wear these days? Where are the chains? Found a new seamstress who doesn’t cut up your clothes?” her dad asked.
“I see you haven’t changed much. Looking a little thick around the waist there, old man. Middle age settling in? Won’t catch yourself a rich widow that way.”
“No need to catch a rich widow. I married the beautiful mother of my daughter about eighteen months ago now. Not that you ever bothered to respond to the invite.” Dad crossed his arms and leaned against the back of his seat, giving every intention of staying as long as it took. Whatever it was he was looking for.
The stranger crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “Didn’t get it.”
“Suppose you didn’t get the one to Drew’s wedding last week, either, you washed-up has-been. Interesting you’re in San Francisco to catch this flight, but couldn’t break out of the studio for an evening to make merry and wish your cousin well.”
“The boy got married?” He did a good job of sounding surprised. Or least Birdie believed him, although the look on her father’s face said he didn’t. “Must have missed that invite too. I was in LA until yesterday”—he paused to glance at his watch—“Uh, Thursday morning. Had to stop in SF to meet with Lucas on a project.”
A bony finger poked Birdie in the shoulder, as her grandmother said, “Out of my way, girl.”
Birdie turned sideways so the old woman could poke her finger in the stranger’s shoulder next.
“Rupert Paul Robinson, you very well did receive those invitations,” Gran said. “I had Martin send not only the engraved one weeks early, but I had him e-mailing you once a month six months prior. And take off that ridiculous disguise. It doesn’t work, anyway.”
“It got me on the plane undetected,” he muttered, as he turned around with a cheery smile on his face. “Aunt Helen!” He took off the hat, leaving the sunglasses on as he enfolded her in a hug, then set her back and kissed her cheek. “Looking lovely and hale as always.” Only then did he remove the glasses and tuck them into an inner pocket of his leather jacket.
Oh that face. It did look extremely familiar, but from where? He’d called Gran Aunt Helen, so was there a family connection she didn’t know about? She glanced at Mom whose green eyes were as round as Birdie had ever seen them.
“Stop right there, you cheeky boy.” The older woman poked him in the chest hard enough he rubbed the spot. “I even spoke, personally, with your personal assistant just last week to make sure you’d be there for Drew’s wedding. LA is not that far from San Francisco.”
“Auntie, dear, San Francisco is a twelve hour drive from LA. On a good day.”
“And a matter of an hour or two by plane. You could have been there for the wedding and back in LA later that night.”
“And I sacked my PA last week, so she probably withheld that little tidbit out of spite.” He glanced over his shoulder at Birdie’s dad. “I swear I’m never hiring another woman PA again. Sticking to men from here out. Hetero men.”
“Hey,” Birdie found herself protesting.
“I have nothing against gays, or women for that matter, love,”—he turned very familiar blue eyes on her—“but I can no longer afford to risk my assistant being attracted to me. I’ve sacked three for that very reason in the last three years.” He gave a shrug. “So, am I to understand you’re a new part of this crazy family?”
Birdie accepted his handshake. “I’m Court’s long lost daughter, Drew’s