Grounded Read online

  Grounded

  by Angela Correll

  © Copyright 2013 by Angela Correll

  ISBN 9781938467561

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other – except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The names, incidents, dialogue, and opinions expressed are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  Published by

  5 Penn Plaza, 23rd floor

  c/o Morgan James Publishing

  New York, NY 10001

  212-574-7939

  www.koehlerbooks.com

  Publisher

  John Köehler

  Executive Editor

  Joe Coccaro

  For Jess

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Acknowledgments

  Grounded

  ANGELA

  CORRELL

  Chapter One

  Annie couldn’t wait to get home. Up from the subway station and into a downpour, she wrestled a book out of her black leather handbag and used it to cover her head. The book made a poor umbrella, but with her other hand dragging luggage, it was the best she could do. Maybe getting soaked would at least wash the red stain off her khaki skirt.

  Good rain, good rain. It was something her grandfather used to say years ago on the farm. Annie could see him in her mind, standing at the window of the farmhouse, a contented smile on his face and pipe smoke curling around his white head. But that was when rain was vital for food and income. Now it was a messy inconvenience.

  The weather had delayed their landing in New York and added to an already difficult flight. The crew had celebrated her birthday the night before, and she’d had too much wine. A dull headache lingered into the first few hours and then there was the businessman from New Jersey who could not be pleased. As soon as she brought him a newspaper, he wanted a drink. Then he wanted another newspaper and on and on it went. A bossy teenager flying alone complained about the music selection, all the while going through three headsets to find the one with the best sound. What was a teenager doing in first class anyway? And what happened to the iPods that seemed to sprout on every teenager’s body like an appendage at age thirteen?

  The apartment building in sight, Annie ran the last few yards, her feet bitterly complaining in the high heels. Under the stoop, she unlocked the door and stumbled over the threshold with her luggage.

  The air was thick with the rich scent of curry. She hoped it was coming from her Indian neighbors, the Agarwals, and not from her apartment. Her roommate, Prema, also Indian, had taken up traditional cooking lately and their apartment was beginning to smell like the Kashmir Indian Restaurant. Stuart had even smelled it on her clothes and hair when they’d gone out last week.

  Nearly to the door, her luggage caught on the grate in the floor, jerking her backward. When she reached down to dislodge the wheel, her purse fell, scattering her phone, hairbrush and lipstick across the floor.

  Snatching up the errant items, Annie nearly stuffed her phone back into her bag before seeing a text from Stuart.

  “Running late today … meet me at the apartment?”

  She rubbed her temple, working it to release the tension. The last thing she wanted to do was go back out in the rain and ride the subway uptown.

  “Annie, you are home!” Prema smiled, her warm dark eyes alight with excitement when Annie finally struggled through the door. “Oh, what happened to your skirt?”

  “Tomato juice. We had a little turbulence and a passenger who had too many drinks. It could have been worse.”

  “Yes, like my flight to Delhi a few weeks ago. A child threw up on me! It was most unpleasant.”

  Amused at the understatement, Annie hid her grin since Prema was entirely serious.

  “You’re cooking,” Annie said.

  “Yes. I invited this son of my father’s friend for dinner. He is newly arrived and sounded so sad, all alone.” The gold hoops in Prema’s ears swung as she moved from the living area to the kitchen, the scarf of her purple sari flowing behind her.

  “And you’re in traditional dress,” Annie said. “Why do I think this is more than just a ‘Welcome to New York’?”

  “I am only doing as my father asked of me. Jatindre is used to seeing Indian women in their traditional clothing. I don’t want to shock him with my American style yet. Can you have dinner with us?”

  Annie tossed the book she had used for an umbrella on the side table and picked up her mail. “I’m going out with Stuart, thanks.”

  “There will be leftovers, I’m sure.” Prema pointed to the chalkboard hanging next to the door. “Kate and Evie are gone through Tuesday. Whatever is left is yours. I leave tomorrow for Delhi.”

  In an apartment of four flight attendants, the chalkboard was the only way to keep up with who was coming or going. Days of the week were listed at the top. To the side each girl’s name was written. An “X” meant you were out that day and night. A small “x” meant you were out part of the day. It helped with planning for social activities.

  Four women in a three-bedroom apartment had worked out well for the most part, because it was rare for them to all be home at the same time. Annie had the master bedroom, Prema had her own room and the two younger flight attendants, Kate and Evie, shared the third. Annie earned the larger bedroom by being in the apartment the longest, as several roommates had come and gone after getting married or transferring to another city.

  Annie tossed the mail on her bed and stripped off her TransAir uniform before stuffing it in the dry cleaning bag that hung from a hook in her closet.

  The hot shower enveloped her, washing off the grime of an overseas flight. Breathing deeply, the moist heat eased her clogged sinuses and aching head. Her body relaxed.

  She had snapped at two passengers and had bit her lower lip so much it was now as raw as sandpaper. For a couple of weeks she had been on edge, as if a black cloud of foreboding had settled on her. Annie knew it stemmed from the news reports that kept coming out about the airline’s financial crisis. She had tried to shake it off but was overcome by the paralyzing fear of losing her job.

  The hot shower massaged her skin like a thousand small fingers and she tried practicing t
he deep breathing exercises she had learned in exercise class. She felt somewhat more relaxed and pried herself from the water cocoon. Annie wrapped a towel around her body and leaned in close to the mirror. She peered at the lines around her eyes. They had gotten deeper since she turned thirty-two. Digging eye cream from one of her toiletry bags, she dabbed a bit in each corner before putting on her makeup then drying her dark shoulder-length hair.

  Dressed and left with some extra time, she sat to read through her mail—bills, junk mail, a letter from the airline, and a letter from her grandmother.

  “Bad news first,” she said to herself and opened the envelope from the airline. It was a letter from the CEO updating the employees on the attempts by a competing airline to take TransAir. Nearly the same as the letter that had arrived a month ago: We are trying to fight the takeover. We want to continue to provide the routes and services we’ve been providing since 1969. Please be patient as we work through this with our share-holders …

  She threw it in the trash.

  With full passenger loads on most flights, how can they not make it work?

  She reached for the envelope from Kentucky.

  Dear Annie,

  We sure do miss you around here. Your short visit at Christmas was not enough. Do try to come this spring and stay awhile. We look forward to a wet spring, which we need after last year’s dry summer.

  There is a new single preacher in town. Evelyn met him in the meat section of the Kroger and invited him to eat lunch with us on the Sundays he doesn’t have an invitation from his congregation. Mary Beth White’s divorce is final and she’s been taking lunch with us on Sundays. She was so pitiful after her husband ran off and left her with those two young children. Evelyn thinks she and the new preacher might be a match, but I don’t know if his church will let their preacher marry a divorced woman.

  I’m thinking about painting the house, but the Millers moved out of the stone house and I hate to take on a new expense with less money coming in. Maybe if I can find a good renter, I’II do it.

  Jake was promoted again by that big bank up in Cincinatti and Evelyn says he’s getting right serious with a girl from up there.

  Joe and Betty Gibson have a new grandbaby. It’s a little girl called Frances Grace. You know people are going for the old-fashioned names nowadays, but I’ve yet to hear of someone naming their child Beulah.

  Love, Grandma

  P.S. Don’t forget we have a new area code now. We got new addresses five years ago for the EMS. Why they can’t leave well enough alone, I don’t know.

  Annie hadn’t been home in four months. Even then it had been a quick visit, squeezing in a ski trip with Stuart on the back end of the holidays. Maybe she would plan a trip this summer and bring Stuart. Annie smiled at the thought of him in his Armani suit and alligator shoes on the farm. Maybe she would buy him a pair of Red Wings for his birthday.

  Annie let herself into Stuart’s apartment with the key he had given her. His place on the Upper East Side was spacious and neat compared to her cramped quarters in the village. Chester, the orange tabby a client had given Stuart, pranced, tail swishing in greeting. The cat’s soulful green eyes beckoned the usual scratch behind his ear.

  “Hey, Ches, did you miss me?” The soft fur felt good on her hand and she lingered, giving him an extra rub down his back.

  Annie straightened and put her purse on the low-slung black leather couch. Behind the couch, paintings with geometric patterns in reds, oranges and blacks by the same artist hung three in a row. Metal end tables next to the leather couch and chairs held black lacquer lamps, and, central to any bachelor’s apartment, suspended against the far wall was the latest technology in flatscreen televisions.

  The only thing that looked out of place to her was the wilting peace lily in the corner of the room. It had been her subtle attempt to soften the room and make it more “homey” but it continually suffered from neglect since its arrival two months before. Stuart had seemed happy with her gift, but clearly plants weren’t his thing.

  In the kitchen, Annie looked around while she filled a container with water. Not one thing was out of place. Stuart was compulsively neat and his cleaning lady came three days a week. Just once, Annie would like to find something awry, like a dirty glass or plate, even a pair of socks on the floor.

  After watering the peace lily, Annie wandered into Stuart’s bedroom. A stack of sales books were on the bedside table, a Wall Street Journal was folded neatly next to them, and there was his perfectly made bed.

  “Chester,” she called to the cat. “Does he ever mess up anything?” Chester came to her in the bedroom and looked as if she were telling him something important, his head tilted slightly to the side, his ears pointed forward.

  There was a time when he did look a mess, she remembered: the night they met, more than six months ago. Her best friend, Janice DeVechio, had invited Annie to a charity fundraiser for cancer research. She had tickets given to her by an aunt who had married a wealthy Sicilian. Janice firmly believed her new uncle had mob connections, but it never stopped her from accepting the generous offer of tickets to plays, events and shows frequently doled out by the aunt to her favorite niece.

  “It’s costume, but don’t worry. I know what you can wear.”

  Annie had rolled her eyes. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “Jimmy is going as Hansel, I’m Gretel, and you’ll be Little Red Riding Hood. You look great in red.”

  Annie had gone to the party in red tights, a red cape found at a consignment store, and carrying a small basket. Janice and Jimmy danced to Bobby Darin and Annie stood at the hors d’oeuvres table debating how long she would need to stay.

  She had decided to get some fresh air on the terrace when a man said, “Not so fast, Little Red Riding Hood.” Annie turned to face a wolfman grinning at her, rows of straight white teeth peeking from under pieces of brown fur taped to his face and intense green eyes peering between strands of a long brown wig. She burst out laughing as a piece of fur dropped onto a plate of crackers.

  “That is the worst costume I have ever seen,” she said.

  “This is the worst party I’ve ever seen. I had to come for business. What’s your excuse?”

  “I’m with a friend,” she said.

  “That’s too bad,” he said, and looked disappointed.

  “Not a date—a couple. They’re out there dancing.” Who is this man? She had been immediately intrigued.

  “Aha. The story is getting better all the time,” he said, grinning.

  “I don’t know why I’m here. Bad social life I guess.”

  “Well, since you’re not here with another wolf, I think this means we are meant for each other,” he said, raising his eyebrows in feigned sincerity.

  Annie laughed at him, but something deep within her stirred at his words. It was as if there was a magnetic field around him and she was helpless to fight the pull. His convincing green eyes, laughing one minute and piercing the next, reshaping her belief on the spot that love at first sight was possible.

  “Let’s go to the bar. We can talk there.” He put a hand gently on her back and guided her out of the room. She helped him remove the silly pieces of fur from his face while they talked, telling each other their life stories, right up to how they ended up on that night in that place. The attraction had been seismic.

  Annie was so lost in the memories, she didn’t hear the lock click and the apartment door open until Chester jumped off the bed to greet his master.

  Stuart filled the doorway of the bedroom, one arm behind his back. He was tall, tan with dark blond hair that curled naturally. When he entered a room, it was as if he owned the entire block of buildings, so strong was his confidence.

  “Wow, you look great. I missed you,” he said, his eyes taking in her whole body and opening his arms for her. Annie responded with a warm and lingering kiss, inhaling the smell of his cologne mixed with the white roses he held in his hand.

  “I missed you to
o,” she said. She forgot her irritation at having to come to his apartment. All that was important now was being with him.

  “Let me look at you again.” His green eyes moved appreciatively down her body. “You are stunning.” He handed her the flowers and kissed her again.

  “Thank you! I’ll put these in water.”

  He loosened his tie and followed her into the kitchen. “You are never going to believe who I went to lunch with today.”

  Annie reached for the scissors and pointed them at him. “If it’s a rich, young heiress, I’m not sure I want to hear about it.”

  He grinned and moved behind her, hugging her from the back. “I think it is safer back here.”

  “Okay, now I’m in suspense. Who?” Annie carefully snipped the ends of each stem diagonally, as her grandmother had taught her to do.

  Stuart poured a Scotch for himself and a Chardonnay for Annie.

  “Jack Carney.” He waited for Annie’s reaction.

  “Carney the developer? The one who did the big project over in New Jersey?”

  “That’s him. We hit it off, Annie. He’s into poker, loves golf. We couldn’t be more alike. I need to work the relationship, but I think he’ll invest with me.”

  “That’s great!” She placed the last rose into the vase.

  He handed her the wine. “Did you miss me?” she asked.

  “Bad. Chester was even worse. He unwound a whole roll of toilet paper then shredded it on the bathroom floor while I was at work.”

  “You’re joking?”

  “No, I’m serious. Vera was not happy about the extra work, and believe me, she let me know about it.” Annie remembered the first time she met Vera. The older woman made sure Annie knew she worked for Mr. Henderson and no one else. No girlfriend would be giving her orders.

  Stuart took her hand and pulled her over to the couch. “I don’t know why I ever let that client talk me into taking that cat. But I did get a good sale out of the deal.”

  “That’s why you’re so successful—anything for the customer.”

  Stuart looked at his watch. “I better hop in the shower. I have a car coming at seven-thirty.” The dimple in the cleft of his chin deepened with his smile as he leaned in for a kiss. “This is a special night for us. I’ve got a surprise.”