huskily. "Once a week. Make sure she's not burning the candle at both ends."
"I won't forget to call her."
"Remember, the house payment and the other bills will be paid automatically—"
"I know, Mom."
"Betty will make sure there's always money in your account. Your father manages Ilana's finances, so there's
no problem there. And of course Dan will be here to look in on you every once in a while—"
Ian grasped her shoulders and moved her back. "Mom, I'm going to be fine. You can't worry. Just go on your trip. Paint lots of pictures. And tell me all about it when you get back."
She smoothed her hand over his cheek. "I love you."
His lips compressed as his eyes reddened. "Love you, too."
"We have to leave in ten minutes," she said softly. There was no room for error. If she missed this flight to Washington, D.C., she'd miss her chance to leave earth. The reporter who'd won the flight into space had departed days ago. According to CNN, two more ships were lifting off at midnight. She was betting one of those was the Quillie, the rebel's ship. "Help me check my gear one more time."
Ian read from the checklist she handed him, and she inventoried the contents of her waterproof cylindrical travel bag. In addition to the floral skirt and lavender twinset she was wearing on the plane, she'd packed three black microfiber jumpsuits and a jacket that a seamstress had created from her sketches—clothing suitable for both a spaceship journey and sightseeing. Next to the jumpsuits was her old air force flight suit that she'd use as a disguise at Andrews Air Force Base. There were the barest of toiletries, her watercolors, a pouch containing every piece of real jewelry she owned, and all the boxes of Morton's table salt she'd been able to cram into the remaining space. If the rebel captain required a down payment for her trip, she was prepared. On top of it all she laid the slim leather folder that Dan had given her. Inside were promises and statements from a dozen of the most powerful CEOs in Arizona, from aerospace firms to mining operations to banks, and, of course, beer, where Dan had typed the name of his microbrewery at the bottom of the list. "It's all here," she said, opening her wallet to check her cash and credit cards.
Her cell phone rang, and her heart sank. She'd already endured all the bittersweet farewells her emotions could handle. Everyone but Betty, her children, and Dan was under the impression that she was taking a long vacation, but if she successfully boarded the spaceship, Betty would call the rest of her family and pass on the news.
Ian hoisted her travel bag onto his shoulder. "I'll put it in the trunk," he said and disappeared into the garage.
She snatched the telephone off the foyer table and sailed through the town house, checking one last time for any items left behind. "Hello?" she said breathlessly.
"You're acting like a dammed teenager, Jasmine— taking off on a joyride and leaving our kid alone in the middle of the school year. What the fuck's gotten into you?"
She squeezed her eyes shut. Not Jock, not now. "It's no longer your business where I go or what I do."
"Oh, yes, it is if it concerns my son."
"Who's grown, in case you hadn't noticed." Her stomach roiled. "Listen, I'm on my way to the airport. If you feel like fighting, go find your wife."
"Oh, I'll find her in a minute, Jasmine," he shot back, "but I guarantee it won't be to fight."
Inhale... exhale... inhale.
"Self-absorbed as always, Jas," he went on. "Vain and irresponsible. When we had infants at home all you wanted to do was hop back into the cockpit. Fortunate for all of us the docs said no. But you won in the end,
didn't you? Made those kids go through a divorce because you were too self-centered to put out any effort in bed."
An invisible fist squeezed her, and shame heated her cheeks. The man had the knack of knowing where she was
"I won't forget to call her."
"Remember, the house payment and the other bills will be paid automatically—"
"I know, Mom."
"Betty will make sure there's always money in your account. Your father manages Ilana's finances, so there's
no problem there. And of course Dan will be here to look in on you every once in a while—"
Ian grasped her shoulders and moved her back. "Mom, I'm going to be fine. You can't worry. Just go on your trip. Paint lots of pictures. And tell me all about it when you get back."
She smoothed her hand over his cheek. "I love you."
His lips compressed as his eyes reddened. "Love you, too."
"We have to leave in ten minutes," she said softly. There was no room for error. If she missed this flight to Washington, D.C., she'd miss her chance to leave earth. The reporter who'd won the flight into space had departed days ago. According to CNN, two more ships were lifting off at midnight. She was betting one of those was the Quillie, the rebel's ship. "Help me check my gear one more time."
Ian read from the checklist she handed him, and she inventoried the contents of her waterproof cylindrical travel bag. In addition to the floral skirt and lavender twinset she was wearing on the plane, she'd packed three black microfiber jumpsuits and a jacket that a seamstress had created from her sketches—clothing suitable for both a spaceship journey and sightseeing. Next to the jumpsuits was her old air force flight suit that she'd use as a disguise at Andrews Air Force Base. There were the barest of toiletries, her watercolors, a pouch containing every piece of real jewelry she owned, and all the boxes of Morton's table salt she'd been able to cram into the remaining space. If the rebel captain required a down payment for her trip, she was prepared. On top of it all she laid the slim leather folder that Dan had given her. Inside were promises and statements from a dozen of the most powerful CEOs in Arizona, from aerospace firms to mining operations to banks, and, of course, beer, where Dan had typed the name of his microbrewery at the bottom of the list. "It's all here," she said, opening her wallet to check her cash and credit cards.
Her cell phone rang, and her heart sank. She'd already endured all the bittersweet farewells her emotions could handle. Everyone but Betty, her children, and Dan was under the impression that she was taking a long vacation, but if she successfully boarded the spaceship, Betty would call the rest of her family and pass on the news.
Ian hoisted her travel bag onto his shoulder. "I'll put it in the trunk," he said and disappeared into the garage.
She snatched the telephone off the foyer table and sailed through the town house, checking one last time for any items left behind. "Hello?" she said breathlessly.
"You're acting like a dammed teenager, Jasmine— taking off on a joyride and leaving our kid alone in the middle of the school year. What the fuck's gotten into you?"
She squeezed her eyes shut. Not Jock, not now. "It's no longer your business where I go or what I do."
"Oh, yes, it is if it concerns my son."
"Who's grown, in case you hadn't noticed." Her stomach roiled. "Listen, I'm on my way to the airport. If you feel like fighting, go find your wife."
"Oh, I'll find her in a minute, Jasmine," he shot back, "but I guarantee it won't be to fight."
Inhale... exhale... inhale.
"Self-absorbed as always, Jas," he went on. "Vain and irresponsible. When we had infants at home all you wanted to do was hop back into the cockpit. Fortunate for all of us the docs said no. But you won in the end,
didn't you? Made those kids go through a divorce because you were too self-centered to put out any effort in bed."
An invisible fist squeezed her, and shame heated her cheeks. The man had the knack of knowing where she was
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