head and smiled at Trevor.
He crouched down next to Kurt and hissed, “Trade seats with me.”
“What? Why?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Trevor growled through gritted teeth.
Kurt dismissed Harriet with a wave of his hand. “Harmless.”
“Good. Then it’s your turn to be unharmed.”
“That could look inappropriate.”
It was BS and they both knew it. “Inappropriate, my ass. How about if I strangle you? Under the circumstances that would be appropriate.”
“I need the leg room. Sit down and shut up before I have to beat you up,” said Kurt, unruffled.
“You’re only an inch taller than me.”
“That inch is in my legs and I need to be able to stretch out in the aisle when I can.” He nodded and smiled at the old woman Trevor had been talking to who was trying to totter past. “Sit down. You’re blocking people.”
There would be no uprooting his brother without a scene, which would bring whatever TSA agent was lurking on the flight. Trevor gave up and sat down.
“Think I’ll try and get some shut-eye,” he said to Harriet, then closed his eyes.
Harriet didn’t take the hint. “I’m too excited to sleep,” she said. “You know, most people can’t sleep on a plane. Too many distractions.”
Trevor knew. He was sitting next to one.
“I read that the best thing to take if you want to sleep is melatonin. It’s what your body naturally produces. And magnesium. Did you know that it’s an anti-stress mineral?”
“Got any on you?” Trevor asked, his eyes still closed.
“No. I never get stressed.”
Of course not. She was too smart for that.
“I think a lot of people stress about flying. But statistically speaking, it’s the safest form of travel there is. The odds of dying as a plane passenger are one in two million.”
Unless somebody gets tired of listening to you and throttles you. Trevor squeezed his eyes shut more tightly. Only seven more hours to go.
* * *
The first class fliers were already settling in with their newspapers and their drinks when the peons in coach shuffled onto the plane. Someday, Catherine had thought, looking longingly at those cozy nests. Her husband had left her well provided for, but not well enough for her to justify that kind of extravagance.
It didn’t matter, really. She wasn’t a tall woman and she had enough leg room. If she had to use the bathroom (which she would, several times) she only had to climb over Denise, who would also be making her share of trips there. Meanwhile, a very nice middle-aged woman was seated to Catherine’s left and happy to chitchat about travel and life in general.
Catherine was, too, until it came to that inevitable moment when the conversation turned to families. The woman had the perfect husband (seated on her other side), who loved her dearly and had given her this ring of silver-and-gold entwined bands encrusted with diamonds before their departure. Wasn’t it pretty? (Pretty expensive, for sure.) Of course, he was also a wonderful father. In fact, they were taking the same cruise as Catherine and Denise, courtesy of their three lovely children, who had all pitched in and given it to them as a present for their thirtieth anniversary. Did Catherine have children?
“Yes, two. Oh, look, here comes dinner.”
The arrival of food distracted the woman, who dug right in. Catherine lost the desire to dig. Instead, she nibbled on her chocolate dessert and contemplated her own life. She had no husband to shower her with expensive anniversary rings anymore. Not that he ever had. The only rings Bill had ever given her had been her engagement and wedding rings. And the biggest anniversary celebration they’d ever had was a trip to the Space Needle for their twenty-fifth. Lunch. Much more practical (and affordable) than dinner. No big gift from the children for any anniversary. But so what? Her husband had loved her, and her children weren’t bad. They were both responsible adults with good kids.
Yes, they were a little on the selfish side, and spoiled. Especially Lila. Bill was right. She had indulged them too much growing up and then enabled them once they were grown. What was it the experts called that? Codependent. But did anyone have a perfect family, really?
“I can imagine what her Christmas letter reads like,” sneered Denise, who’d been in on the conversation with their fellow traveler at the beginning and quickly opted out.
Catherine sighed.
“I can see where you’re going,” Denise said. “Don’t let her fool you. Nobody’s life is perfect, you know that. You have a lot to