Finally I reach the pink vending machine. Ooh, there’s even a birthday cupcake, but the colorful sprinkles are probably geared more for children, and she already feels “too young.” Let’s see. What flavors do I know she enjoys besides sweet onion?
Being the guy who cares for her most is harder than expected since I don’t know her as well as I want to. Oh, wait. She mentioned hoping the pumpkin cake had cream cheese frosting. I scan cupcake descriptions for the mention of cream cheese.
There’s a citrus cake with orange cream cheese frosting, but it’s advertised as sugar-free, with high protein from olive oil. That doesn’t sound indulgent enough. Similarly, the lemon is gluten-free. She ate a sandwich with me earlier, so I know she eats wheat.
Then I spot the Belgian dark chocolate cake with a fudgy cream cheese frosting and chocolate sprinkles. Decadentandfestive. I order four—enough for the whole crew—and pretty much have to juggle the little pink boxes to keep from dropping them on my run back through the airport.
As I burst onto the plane, Claire is finishing her announcement for all the passengers to take their seats and buckle up. She’s obviously done boarding, so I’ll need to hurry and perform my walk-around. But first ...
She hangs up the receiver and catches sight of me standing in the doorway. Her eyes sparkle like amber, and I’m not sure whether her enthusiasm is from seeing me or the boxes of cupcakes. Hopefully both.
“Trade you,” I offer.
She shakes her head, lips pursing in confusion. “You want the interphone?”
“Yep.” I hold out a double stack of cupcake boxes for her to take in her free hand so I can grip the receiver. I grin, then face our full cabin. “I want to join Claire in welcoming you aboard, but I also want to let you know it’s her birthday today.”
People look up, curious at first, then a few smile. A little girl just behind first class claps her hands. A distinguished gentleman in the second row offers, “Happy birthday, cupcake.”
Claire covers her mouth in surprise, cheeks pink. But I’m not done.
“Help me out.” Not only do I want them to make Claire feel celebrated, but my voice needs all the support it can get when I sing. “Happy birthday to you ...”
The passengers join in. One even pulls out her phone to film.
Claire laughs and drops her head backward.
Vincent peeks his head out the flight deck as we finish the song. He arches an aged eyebrow at me, but I’m too happy to care. Claire is happy. The whole plane is happy. There’s no problem here.
“Well done, folks.” I nod at our impromptu choir. “I hope you enjoy our flight just as much as I enjoyed your singing, and I’ll see you in Seattle.”
More laughter. Our spontaneous celebration seems to have put the whole plane in good spirits, though there’s only one person whose opinion matters.
Claire beams. “Your purpose seems to be spoiling me today.”
Mission accomplished.
She glances down at the boxes in her hands. “Are they all chocolate?”
“Uh ...” I thought girls craved chocolate. “Yes. With cream cheese frosting.”
She looks back up, then quirks her lips to one side apologetically. “I’m allergic to chocolate.”
Oh, man. Why didn’t I select an assortment?
“I break out in hives. It’s hideous.”
I highly doubt that. But I still feel bad. I’ll make light of the mistake by using her new passenger-given nickname. “Sorry, cupcake.”
Her eyes flash again, and her lips soften to a small smile. “But I can’t thank you enough. The last first officer I flew with gave out paper airplanes to all the kids, so rather than get serenaded, I got dive-bombed.”
Note to self: Never hand out paper airplanes.
The good news is that she’s comparing me favorably to someone else. The bad news is that it’s not her boyfriend. How else is she going to see that she deserves more?
“You’re welcome.” I let our eye contact linger so she knows she’s always welcome.
The spark in her eye smolders out. The smile lines disappear. Shesobers and studies me openly, as if realizing for the first time this isn’t all fun and games. I want to play for keeps.
