While Grayson worked, I busied myself writing thank-you notes to the flight crew and chatting with them.
“Sandwich?” I offered, taking Grayson a small plate when he was done with his call. I guess I hadn’t realized how much he worked.
“It’s astounding how quickly you make friends with people.” He accepted a sandwich.
“I don’t know about friends, but Johnson is having a party for Mabel. She’s turning one, and he said we should stop by. His girlfriend is allergic to peanuts, though, so we have to be careful with what we bring for the potluck. The pilot,” I explained, to Grayson’s confusion. “He just adopted a puppy.”
“This is the dog’s birthday,” he said slowly.
“It’s pet friendly, so I’m taking Gizzy. Carrot stick?”
Out the window, I could see the orange groves, a carpet of green as we flew low over the flat Florida landscape. I took the seat across from Grayson and buckled the seatbelt as we approached the small regional airport of Dudley Grove.
“Apologies, we’re … going to have to circle,” the pilot said over the intercom, sounding a little confused. “It seems like there are people on the runway.”
“Oh no.” I looked out of the window.
There was a crowd gathered on the tarmac.
“Jiminy Cricket, the welcoming committee is here.”
Grayson frowned as he stared out of the window.
“I was hoping to gently ease you into life at Dudley Grove,” I said with a grimace. Great start to what was supposed to be Grayson’s vacation.
One of the airport workers came out to shoo people off the runway.
As we landed, I saw my parents in full regalia.
The flight crew waved at the cheering townspeople when we disembarked.
The mayor of the town shook Grayson’s hand enthusiastically.
“Thank you for flying into the Dudley Grove airport.”
A lesser man might have been thrown, but Grayson slipped easily into his corporate persona.
“Glad to visit this fine town,” he said smoothly.
The mayor puffed up and beamed.
“Boo!” came the calls from a group of counterprotesters.
“This airport was a waste of taxpayer money.”
“We won a grant to build this airport, and we have one flight to Orlando every other Thursday!” the mayor screamed at them, still grasping Grayson’s hand.
“City Hall is corrupt!” came the cries.
The mayor was furious. “This is a well-used airport. And now we have a direct flight to Manhattan. Come take your picture for the local newspaper.” The mayor practically grabbed Grayson while cameras flashed.
“Squeaky Mouse!” my father, wearing a bright-pink shirt covered in green flamingos, cried, scooping me up into a hug. The sign he was holding jabbed my side.
“Oof.”
My dad was teary-eyed.
“You look so grown-up. You are so grown-up. You’re a real woman with a job and an apartment and a boyfriend.”
