Chapter 9: Air

“I’m glad you’re here, even if it is on a trial basis,” Myko said. He kept one of his hands on the small of Reesa’s back as they entered a private jet. “Have you been to New Orleans before?”

“Yes, but it’s been a while,” she said and intended to go on, but she was thrown by the jet’s interior. “Why are there couches?”

Laughter, soft and sheepish, preceded his explanation. “It’s a compact home away from home. My grandfather purchased it.”

“Is it safe?”

“As safe as any other aircraft.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Sartori,” Reesa said and searched her memories of arranging Myko’s business trips. “This isn’t your usual style.”

“You’re right, but I’ve been, shall we say, more interesting to the public since my divorce. For now, it’s less stressful and better for the company if I use this.”

Thinking of Daniela's popularity with the press, Reesa patted his arm.

Myko moved the hand he had on her back to take hold of her nearest fingers and led her to a plush, cream-colored sofa that had a table in front of it. Lifting the dome off a silver platter, he said, “Here, something to enjoy before our travel companions arrive.”

“Neumann's butterscotch cookies!”

“One of the best things to come from a Sartori subsidiary,” he said. He fiddled with a pitcher and two mugs on a tray near the platter. Soon, they each had hot chocolate.

“Thank you. How did you know I liked these?” she asked.

“They’re the first things you go for at office parties.”

“Do you know everyone’s favorites?”

“Everyone I work with regularly.”

“What’s Harper’s, then?”

“Bubbe Zusa's asiago bagels.”

“I’m impressed.”

They took a moment to enjoy their refreshments before Myko resumed talking.

“Mareesa?”

“Yes?”

“Why are we back to you calling me ‘Mr. Sartori’?”

“For the same reason you've reverted to my given name, probably.”

“I doubt that. I like calling you ‘Mareesa’ because I think it’s exquisite, and scarcely anyone else uses it. But my surname is hardly poetic.”

Reesa gritted her teeth. “Fine. I’m trying to reinforce boundaries. I’m not sure this will work out otherwise.”

“Isn’t it possible to do that without manufacturing distance?”

“All this passion because you want to hear your nickname?”

“Mareesa, when someone says ‘Mr. Sartori’ I think of my father or my grandfather.”

“Well, you're more than a decade older than me, so . . ..”

“Not funny,” Myko said, though he smiled at her subsequent laughter.

Once the moment for humor passed, she became serious again. “Before I answer your question, let’s get a few things straight. One, you are my employer. Two, I am your employee. Three, I am not your babysitter. Are we clear?”

“Crystal. I vow this new start will honor those distinctions.”

“Good,” Reesa said and nestled further into the sofa. “In light of that, I’m willing to negotiate titles.”

“Oh?” Myko said, another smile playing on his lips.

“Yes. I’m still calling you Mr. Sartori in front of most people, but when it’s just us or people we’re close to, I guess I can call you Myko.”

“Such a strained concession, but I’ll take it.”

“And I’m going to need you to call me Ms. Tyler or Reesa in front of your associates because I don’t need everybody using my government name. Otherwise, you can keep doing what you’ve been doing.”

“I accept your terms. Let’s raise our empty mugs to it.”

Reesa obliged, then reached into her work tote for the itinerary she and David, Myko’s interim secretary, had collaborated on. After she and Myko finished reviewing it, her attention was stolen by the arrivals of Serena Vitale, the new chair of Sartori Group’s board, and three other people she recognized as Serena’s colleagues. A buoyant Harper was on their heels.

As they filed in, Myko prepared to move. “I’m going to speak with Signora Vitale and our fellow board members. Harper looks like they might attack if I don’t get out of their way.”

Stifling laughter, Reesa welcomed Harper’s takeover.

“We're going on a field trip, we’re going on a field trip . . .,” Harper whisper-sang as they sat.

“How much caffeine have you had today?” Reesa asked.

“None, I’m just happy to see you.”

“The feeling’s mutual. I missed you.”

“Not as much as I missed you. David is nice, but he’s not my best friend.”

In response, Reesa reached into her tote, picked a bag of roasted peanuts, and gifted it to them.

“Scale of one to ten,” they said as they dug in. “How excited are you for New Orleans?”

“Off the charts. Dad used to drive us there twice a year, every Mardi Gras and Thanksgiving, and the meals were incredible. I only ate more when we visited Mama’s people,” she said, then hummed in thought. “You know what I’ve realized?”

“What?”

“We’re going somewhere that’s known for great food, so our boss can do business about food, and we do most of our bonding over food.”

“So, what you’re saying is: our lives revolve around food?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re just figuring that out?”

Several playful shoves later, Reesa and Harper stopped their activity to listen to takeoff announcements. When the order was given for seatbelts, everyone moved to single seats, and Reesa saw Mrs. Vitale motion for Myko to sit beside her.

“How’s she fitting in?” Reesa whispered.

“Better than her predecessor,” they whispered back. “She’s much more of a team player. No disrespect to Mr. Glenbrook, but his methods didn’t suit the current culture.”

“You mean, the culture under Myko?”

Harper nodded.

“Do you think he’s on the right path?”

“Yes,” Harper said. Their tone was reassuring. “He’s doing great. No red flags in sight.”

Exhaling a breath that she hadn’t known she was holding, Reesa allowed herself to focus on takeoff. She was soon rewarded by the thrill of ascent, as they moved away from the ground, and into the world above.

“Amazing,” she said to herself as she gazed out of her window. She didn’t have much experience with air travel, so the tufts of white on the other side of the glass inspired fascination. With the plane now elevated, many others, including Harper, began to stir, but Reesa stayed put, staring at the clouds until she drifted off to sleep.

***

“Reesa, wake up!”

A bleary-eyed Reesa obeyed the voice she recognized as Harper’s, then quickly became aware of her body jolting in her seat. The cries and shouts of other passengers affirmed emerging panic, and she looked around for her friend.

“Over here,” they called from the area near the front of the plane, and Reesa saw that they were helping Mrs. Vitale, whose forehead was bleeding, into a seat. “Don’t move. We have to make an emergency landing.”

Her heartbeat quickened. “Where?”

“Atlanta.”

“I mean, where will the plane land?” she asked. She couldn’t see anything but darkness outside her window. Amid a swirl of other sensations, she felt her chest tightening.

“Breathe, dolcezza.”

Looking up, Reesa saw Myko enter her field of vision. He belted himself in beside her.

“I’m scared,” she managed to say. Her throat wouldn’t allow more.

“Questo è solo temporaneo,” he said and managed to sound both soothing and distracted as he looked at Reesa's seatbelt. After completing his inspection, he met her eyes. “It’s alright to be afraid but know that we’ll be fine. Come now. Breathe with me.”