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the corner to look again. Jamie’s hair was shorter than I remembered. We hadn’t spoken for eight—ten months, but the last time I’d seen him had been six months before that. Could it have been that long? I stole another peek. When he lifted his eyes, I pulled back.
    Seeing him after so much time, seeing that he had changed while I wasn’t looking, even if it was just a haircut, caused a sharp pain in my heart. It made me wonder what else had happened without me. Not much had ever happened in his life that I hadn’t known about.
    The captain came on with his prelaunch announcement. Tristan arrived, bounced into the jumpseat next to mine, and strapped in.
    “He’s adorable, Alexandra. Just like you. Polite. Considerate—”
    “You talked to him?”
    “Yes, I did. I said, ‘I love your suit. Is that Joseph Abboud, and did you know your sister is cowering up in the forward galley?’ ”
    “You’re such a comedian.”
    “His eyes are a really cool shade of dark blue. Yours are blue, aren’t they?” He turned to me, leaning forward and away so he could check.
    “Gray. Jamie looks more like my mom. I look like my father.”
    “He has that smoldering boy-next-door thing going on. How does one do that, I wonder? The boy-next-door thing I get, being from Wyoming. It’s the smoldering I can’t seem to master.” Tristan reached up and adjusted the knot of his tie. “Does he work out?”
    “I thought you were in a relationship.”
    “That doesn’t mean I can’t look.” He smoothed his hair behind his ear. “Is he straight?”
    “Happily married with two kids.”
    “To a woman?”
    “Tristan—”
    “What does he do?”
    “He’s an investment banker. Very successful for his age. Last I heard, he was up for partner at his firm.”
    “The plot thickens. Let me see if I can get this right.” He tipped his head back and did the Freud chin stroke. “He thinks you’re still a master of the universe. Mistress of the universe? In the meantime, little brother has turned into a Wall Street whiz kid. He’s never seen you in your cute little uniform, and now you have to serve him his first-class orange juice.” He looked at me with unabashed delight. He had nailed it, and he knew it.
    “Tomato juice,” I said. “He likes tomato juice.”
    “If it wasn’t you, dear, I would say this is all rather delicious.”
    “I don’t know what to say to him.”
    “ ‘Hello. Nice to see you. Oh, by the way, I’m a flight attendant now. Can I freshen that drink for you?’ ”
    I brushed my hand across my skirt. A single wayward thread poked up to mar the smooth cotton expanse. What would I say to him? That I had become a flight attendant without telling him would be obvious. Not so that I was an investigator pretending to be a flight attendant, which, of course, I hadn’t told him, either. Could I even tell him that? He was not one step behind but two, which is what happens when you don’t speak to each other.
    “Or we can cut two holes in one of the trash bags, and you can wear it over your head while you do the service. What are you so ashamed of?”
    What a complicated question that was, made more so given who was asking. There was just enough arch in Tristan’s tone to remind me he had an investment in my answer.
    “I’m not ashamed to be a flight attendant. Great people do this job and love this job, including you, and so many people do it so much better than I do. It’s not that. It’s the going backward part. I used to run a big airport operation with hundreds of people reporting to me. I had responsibility and authority that I worked hard to get. Now I don’t. He’ll think I gave up, that I got scared and threw in the towel, because…because that’s how he thinks. Jamie is very driven. You gave up a management job. You know what that’s like. Some people don’t get it.”
    “I always preferred to think of it as making a better choice for myself.”
    Okay, here was the further complication.