Blue Skies (34 page)

“Oh, for God's sake!” Joe snapped, a fist hitting his desk. “Is this what the two of you came here to do?”

At that point Bob's cell phone twittered loudly.

“Forgive me, boss. I'm expecting an important call. Can you give me ninety seconds?”

“Thirty,” he said unhappily.

Bob stepped out of the office, saying, “Bob Riddle,” as he went. But he stood right outside the door, and though his voice was low, it was completely audible. And Jewel was at her desk, guarding the gate, so obviously he meant to be heard. “Yeah, John, thanks for calling back. I only have a second, but I'm afraid the news is bad for your side. I've made a commitment here and I'm going to turn down your offer.” Pause. “Yes, that's right, I'm staying at New Century.” Pause. “Well, because I believe in this company. We're going to kick some serious ass. But just out of curiosity, since I won't be changing my mind, anyway, what was their final offer? Whoa, Nellie. CEO?” He whistled. “That's three times what I'm making here. That is tempting, but damn it all, I'm here for the long haul. Nope, can't be talked out of it. Thanks again, John. And hey, keep in touch.”

Sparks and light bulbs were going off in Nikki's head like mad, but she composed her features. She stood as Bob reentered the room. “Look,” she said, preempting him. “I don't see how we're going to work this out to our mutual satisfaction, so I would find an agreement
that we won't do this to each other again to be satisfactory. How about it?” she said, sticking out her hand.

Slowly, perhaps reluctantly, he took her hand. “All right,” he said uncertainly.

“All right. I have another matter to speak with Joe about, so I'll stick around a minute. You done here?”

“Uh. Yeah, I guess so.” He stuck his hand across the desk. “Thanks, Joe.”

“What are you thanking me for?”

“Uh, your time. Thanks.”

Joe took his hand limply. “Sure. Get outta here.”

Nikki sat facing Joe, Joe sat facing her. They did not speak as they listened to Bob make small talk with Jewel in the outer office. Very small talk, because Jewel was a tough cookie who didn't suffer fools gladly, and by the nature of her monosyllabic responses, she was letting him know he could move along. Still, for another moment after he'd left, Nikki and Joe sat and just looked at each other.

He broke the silence first. “All right, that did not appear to go well. It didn't accomplish anything or end nicely, and yet you have some kind of self-satisfied smirk on your face.”

She tried not to grin like the Cheshire cat. “I'd like your okay to post internal to the company for a job to fall under the chief pilot's office. Crew scheduler.”

“We don't have a crew scheduler?”

“Me. And I gotta have a little help.”

“You think you can find one inside NCA?”

“I don't want to look outside until some of these people get a shot. Huh?”

“Sure.”

“We don't have any kind of lock on positions, do we?”

“Just mine,” he said. “Hey, come on, what's up? What happened to make you so happy with yourself?”

“It wasn't me, Joe,” she said, getting to her feet. “I was just so goddamn happy to hear that Riddle is committed enough to turn down a $550,000 CEO position to stick it out with us. Damn, that's good news.”

He grimaced at her, not buying in at all. “Whatever.”

She stuck her hand across his desk. “And thanks for your time.”

“Get outta here.”

Which she was happy to do, chuckling all the way back to her office.

W
hen Nikki left the president's office, she went directly to Riddle's office. She very quietly told Crue to watch the internal job listings and then asked to see Bob.

Stepping into his office was like stepping into an aviation museum. All he had on his desk that resembled work was one yellow pad on which he'd been scribbling, but the desktop, book shelf, credenza and walls were covered with memorabilia and gifts from aircraft companies and vendors. There was a 757 model in NCA's paint job from Boeing, a crystal clock from a leasing company, a framed picture of a golfing foursome from Rolls-Royce, a model of an engine from GE, to name just a few things. Where and when he'd gotten all this stuff was a mystery to Nikki.

Bob stood from behind his desk and indicated a chair, but Nikki waved him off. “I just wanted to stop by your office and say I'm glad we've put down that problem and I hope we won't have to revisit that issue. And there was another thing.” He nodded that she should go ahead. “I couldn't help but overhear your conversation, Bob. It must have been a job offer.”

“You heard me?” he asked, clearly trying to look surprised.

“Yes, bits and pieces. I gathered you're very committed to New Century, which is a relief. But I was
wondering—if anyone should ask for your résumé, may I have your permission to pass it along?”

He looked genuinely perplexed. “Who might be asking?”

“Not sure,” she said with a shrug. “I've tried to stay in touch with other airlines, especially the young and the start-ups, to compare notes on our progress and mutual concerns, and frankly, I've been asked for my résumé a few times. I've also been asked if there's anyone else around New Century who could be persuaded into a better position once the company is established and no longer in need of certification expertise. I've had a couple of tempting offers, as I gather you have, but hell, I just bought a house and got my kids in schools here.”

She watched his face. It was as good as a map. She was sure he had set up that phone call to make him appear sought-after in front of the boss. Now it was beginning to dawn on him that there might actually be something out there, something that would put him closer to his goal of having a presidency.

“I'm sure you've been talking to your counterparts at other carriers and have had some of the same experiences.”

“Ah, certainly,” he said, very
un
certainly.

“Do you happen to have a résumé in your file? Or I could just refer people to the DOT filing on the Internet,” she said, and again she was met with his surprised expression. He wasn't aware that his résumé would be there, right in the public documents section. A résumé that was filled with exaggerations and bold-faced lies.

“Just to make things simple, if anyone should ask, just have them give me a call,” he said.

“Good enough. See you later, then.”

“You'll be sure to let me know?” he asked as she was leaving.

“Let you know?” she mimicked.

“Yes. If anyone should ask about me.”

“Oh! Of course!”

Nikki actually
had
been talking to her counterparts at other airlines. She'd called to introduce herself to their chief pilots and found them enormously helpful in sharing some of their work rules and policy, not to mention tips for managing sticky personnel problems. But no one had asked for her résumé, and no one was likely to be asking for Bob's.

He was going to get on the horn now, she knew. He'd not only call the headhunter that got him this job, but start sniffing around airlines to find out what was going on in their management. Here was a guy who looked so good on paper, his carefully fictionalized paper, and could make a positive personal impression as long as you didn't spend too much time with him. Close scrutiny didn't show his best side; he was especially annoying when cooped up in a cockpit for hours on end. But the fact that Joe Riordan had been impressed enough to hire him was proof positive that Bob Riddle could pull off the scam. With any luck, Joe wouldn't be the last to be fooled by him.

It wasn't going to be too long, Nikki believed, before Riddle would find himself a new job. He was much better at getting them than keeping them.

 

Carlisle called Nikki at the office. “I know this is a lot to ask, and if the answer is no, I will understand, I promise. But it's my mother. She'd like us to have Thanksgiving together. And Nikki, I just don't think I can go back to another day in chilly Anoka, Minnesota.”

The other thing that became chilly was Nikki's blood. Suddenly her veins turned to ice. “What are you asking me?” she said warily.

Heavy sigh. “May I invite Ethel to Thanksgiving?”

Nikki's head fell into her hand. Her eyes closed.

“She won't stay with us, because there certainly isn't room for that. I'll be putting her up in one of the hotels, or I might even see what Dixie has complicating her life right now….”

“You don't want to know.”

“Oh-oh. She's fallen off the wagon again, hasn't she?”

“Her cheeks are aglow—all four of them.”

“Oh, God, the lucky stiff. Anyway—”

“Sure, Carlisle. Ethel can't be any worse than Opal. But with Buck and Pistol here and the dogs constantly snapping and snarling, it might only insure that she'll never be back.”

He laughed. “It sounds fabulous. I'm going to tell her to come ahead. She'll arrive Thanksgiving week.”

“One thing. I'm not sure where I'll be. It's the busiest flying season of the year.”

“Don't you worry about a thing. I'll prepare as many turkey dinners as it takes until you're sitting at the head of your table.”

She felt a smile struggle to her lips. “We missed you
so
much when you were away. We didn't eat very well with you in Anoka.”

“I'm glad to do what I can. Opal has been fussing over me as if I'm the one dying,” he joked.

“She seems to be doing quite well for someone who doesn't have much longer to live, isn't she.”

Oh, compassion,
Nikki scolded herself. After all, one of these days Opal
would
die, like it or not. One day it
wasn't going to be just another of her melodramatic ploys for attention. And then Nikki would hate herself for being so dismissive.

At the end of the day, Dixie stuck her head in Nikki's office. “The job posting is done—it's on the company intranet bulletin board. And if you don't need anything more, I'm going now.”

“Dixie, come in a sec.” Nikki turned away from her computer. “I'm sorry about this morning. There was a lot of pressure, I was shocked, it was—”

“It's Danny,” she said abruptly.

Nikki's mouth hung open. “Danny Adams?” she finally asked.

“Yes, ma'am,” Dixie said quite proudly. “The first time it occurred to me how much I liked him was way back at Aries, when we talked at dinner on a San Francisco layover. We talked about him coming up here. And I've been seeing him ever since, but he didn't make the move until…Well, until…”

“I know,” Nikki said. “Sex sure does agree with you. I've never in my life known anybody to show the rapture all over her face like you do.”

She grinned. “It's always worked for me, that's a fact.”

“Well, I have to say, I'm a little surprised.”

“I don't know why. He's—”

“He's a wonderful guy. Shy and thoughtful and smart. You usually go for the arrogant, useless types.”

Dixie sat down on the edge of the chair that faced Nick's desk and leaned toward her. “Nikki, you just can't believe how wonderful he is. Why, when he takes me into those arms and—”

“Stop!” Nikki said, holding her hand up and closing her eyes tightly. “You cannot tell me anything intimate
about him. Number one, he works for me. Number two, I haven't had sex in so long I've forgotten which armpit the vagina is in.”

Dixie giggled. “But it's okay, isn't it, Nick? I mean, boss?”

“Yeah, what the hell. It's an airline. It's almost required.” Then, facing her friend more seriously, she said, “He won't hurt you, you know. He is a man of high principles—not at all what you're used to. And though I've never known you to treat a man unkindly—even the absolute worst men on record—do not hurt Danny Adams. I mean it. Because I don't know if there's anyone for whom I have greater respect.”

“You know I won't. I'm a one-man woman. Always have been. And so I was just wondering, can I bring him to Thanksgiving?”

 

That night, a full week before the holiday, Nikki's house was fairly quiet. She should be exhausted, having been up at the crack of dawn to look at that engine change and talk to the Wrench. But the day had been so wildly crazy that she was wired.

She had come home to find April doing homework in front of the fireplace, Jared in his room on the computer, and Opal resting from a rough day at the beauty shop. After a light dinner of soup, salad and sandwiches, everyone seemed to go to their corners except Opal, who availed herself of the big screen in the family room to watch her favorite bug-eating reality shows.

Nikki sat cross-legged in the middle of her queen-size bed and thought about what the next week was going to bring. The reservations had been heavy for Thanksgiving week since before operations started, and although all the flights were crewed, it was possible that someone
would call in sick and she would have to take a flight at the last minute. Barring that, she had made a commitment to be at the airport, anyway, to help load bags and serve a turkey dinner to the employees who were stuck at work.

Be that as it may, she was still planning a family holiday. If at the last minute she didn't make it, she'd catch the rerun on the next day or the next.

Her briefcase sat next to the bed and she reached for it. She retrieved the phone log and scanned the numbers, then called Sam. He answered on the second ring. “Hi, Sam. It's Nikki Burgess.”

“Boss,” he answered.

He was right, she did kind of like it. “Next week is going to be insane, you know.”

“I know. But we should do fine.”

“Are you planning Thanksgiving with your daughters?”

“Not this time. I'm flying Wednesday, back Thursday afternoon. Not enough time to hitch a ride to Colorado. The younger one will be with her older sister and her husband.”

“Well, look. I won't know until I'm actually sitting down at the table if I'll make it, but we're having family and almost-family here. It's quite a group. Would you like to join us?”

He was quiet a moment. “You're going to show me to your family?” he asked.

“Hmm. It's more like I'm going to show them to you. This may finally bring you to your senses.”

“Are they scary?”

“Let's see—there are two kids, both at ‘that age'—my son is eleven and my daughter fourteen. There's my gay housekeeper-nanny who is bringing his mother. Oh,
and there's my dying mother Opal and her six-pound poodle named Precious, who is mean as a snake.”

“She's dying?” he asked. “My God, what's the matter with her?”

“She's not dying. She's been saying that since I was about eleven. She looks quite well and has tons of energy. And my dad will be coming with his dog, who hates the poodle. His dog, Pistol, is a Labra-doodle-cocka-dachsie. If there is a God, he will eat Precious for Thanksgiving. I think that's everyone.” She could hear him laughing. “Oh! I almost forgot. My secretary and friend, Dixie, and her boyfriend, the director of training.”

“Danny Adams? And Dixie McPherson? When did that happen?”

“They've just come out. I don't want any more details than that. So, what do you think? Want to meet my circus for Thanksgiving?”

“I wouldn't miss it.”