David shakes his head. Ben rubs his bald spot nervously. He glances at the cockpit.
“Are we waiting for somebody?” he says. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
“One more person,” says Emma, looking at her list. “Scott Burroughs?”
Ben glances at David. “Who?”
David shrugs. “Maggie has a friend,” he says.
“He’s not a friend,” Maggie says, overhearing. “I mean, the kids know him. We ran into him this morning at the market. He said he had to go to New York, so I invited him to join us. I think he’s a painter.”
She looks at her husband.
“I showed you some of his work.”
David checks his watch.
“You told him ten o’clock?” he says.
She nods.
“Well,” he says, sitting, “five more minutes and he’ll have to catch the ferry like everyone else.”
Through a round portal window, Maggie sees the captain standing on the tarmac examining the wing. He stares up at the smooth aluminum, then walks slowly toward the plane.
Behind her, JJ shifts in slumber, his mouth slack. Maggie rearranges the blanket over him, then gives his forehead a kiss. He always looks so worried when he sleeps, she thinks.
Over the chair back she sees the captain reenter the plane. He comes over to shake hands, a man quarterback-tall with a military build.
“Gentlemen,” he says, “ladies. Welcome. Should be a short flight. Some light winds, but otherwise the ride’ll be pretty smooth.”
“I saw you outside the plane,” says Maggie.
“Routine visual inspection,” he tells her. “I do it before every flight. The plane looks good.”
“What about the fog?” asks Maggie.
Her daughter rolls her eyes.
“Fog isn’t a factor with a sophisticated piece of machinery like this,” the pilot tells them. “A few hundred feet above sea level and we’re past it.”
“I’m gonna eat some of this cheese then,” says Ben. “Should we put on some music maybe? Or the TV? I think Boston’s playing the White Sox.”
Emma goes to find the game on the in-flight entertainment system, and there is a long moment of settling in as they take their seats and stow their belongings. Up front, the pilots run through their pre-flight instrument check.
David’s phone buzzes again. He checks it, frowns.
“All right,” says David, getting antsy. “I think that’s all the time we’ve got for the painter.”
He nods to Emma, who crosses to close the main cabin door. In the cockpit, as if by telepathy, the pilot starts the engines. The front door is almost closed when they hear a man’s voice yell, “Wait!”
The plane shakes as their final passenger climbs the gangway stairs. Despite herself, Maggie feels herself flush, a thrum of anticipation starting in her belly. And then he is there, Scott Burroughs, mid-forties, looking flushed and out of breath. His hair is shaggy and starting to gray, but his face is smooth. There are worn gouache splotches on his white Keds, faded white and summer blue. He has a dirty green duffel bag over one shoulder. In his bearing there is still the flush of youth, but the lines around his eyes are deep and earned.
“Sorry,” he says. “The cab took forever. I ended up taking a bus.”
“Well, you made it,” says David nodding to the copilot to close the door. “That’s what matters.”
“Can I take your bag, sir?” says Emma.
“What?” says Scott, startled momentarily by the stealthy way she has moved next to him. “No. I got it.”
She points him to an empty seat. As he walks to it, he takes in the interior of the plane for the first time.
“Well, hell,” he says.
“Ben Kipling,” says Ben, rising to shake Scott’s hand.
“Yeah,” says Scott, “Scott Burroughs.”
He sees Maggie.
“Hey,” he says, giving her a wide, warm grin. “Thanks again for this.”
Maggie smiles back, flushed.
“It’s nothing,” she says. “We had room.”
Scott falls into a seat next to Sarah. Before he even has his seat belt on, Emma is handing him a glass of wine.
“Oh,” he says. “No, thank you. I don’t—some water maybe?”
Emma smiles, withdraws.
Scott looks over at Sarah.
“You could get used to this, huh?”
“Truer words have never been spoken,” says Kipling.
The engines surge, and Maggie feels the plane start to move. Captain Melody’s voice comes over the speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please prepare for takeoff,” he says.