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Her happiness ate at me, yet also made me want to reciprocate. “Me too,” I mostly lied. I really had longed for a day like this. Not necessarily in a private jet with every amenity you could wish for, including a small galley, big-screen TV, and even Wi-Fi. You could honestly smell how expensive the leather seats were. Regardless, I had wished for a day when Sheridan called me daughter and loved me like I were her own. And here I was, living out that wish, and I couldn’t enjoy it because it wasn’t real. I wasn’t really her son’s wife. I was merely the mother of her grandchild, who she had no idea existed.
“I had dinner catered. It’s being kept warm in the galley. We can eat whenever you’d like.”
I was thinking never. I could already smell the baked chicken and broccoli, and it was making me have to take shallow breaths. If I could take the B6 and doxylamine, I would, but it would be too suspicious, and Sheridan was obviously looking at this like a girls’ night. It would be rude for me to sleep through it.
“I’m good for now, but please don’t let me keep you from eating.”
She squeezed my leg. “I’m in no rush.”
That was good news.
The captain informed us over the intercom that we were ready to take off and should expect a four-hour flight. That meant we would be arriving in Arlington around eleven their time, and we still had to drive into DC. We were staying at some ridiculously priced hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue, where the engagement party would happen on Saturday night. John and Sheridan would be in the neighboring suite, so there was no getting two rooms. That was fine by me. It was the only silver lining of the trip—my husband and I had to share a bed.
The plane taxied out of the hangar, and before I knew it, we were in the air.
Brock and John were already knee-deep in business, talking about the fluctuating prices of natural gas, by the time we were cruising above the clouds.
Sheridan rolled her eyes at them. “Let’s ignore them.”
“Fine by me.” I grinned.
She laughed this soft, melodic laugh. She embodied class and kindness. It made me wonder how she’d ended up with John. I supposed I could ask her.
“Tell me, how did you meet John?”
John didn’t even flinch when I mentioned his name, he was so focused on numbers and forecasts.
Her eyes lit up before she let out a sigh. “That is quite the story.”
“You don’t have to share it with me.” I recognized some hesitation on her part.
“No. No. We don’t have secrets in this family.”
I clasped my hands in front of my midsection, as if to protect the biggest family secret of all.
Sheridan waved her hand at all the luxury that surrounded us. “It’s only that this is a far cry from how I thought my story would go.”
I tilted my head. “Really.”
“Oh yes. I was brought up in much different circumstances from the ones I live in now. Who would have ever thought a small-town waitress would end up living like this?”
“Where did you grow up?”
“Some dirt town in the middle of Kansas. My parents hardly had two nickels to rub together. I worked all through high school waiting tables just to help my family make ends meet. But I didn’t mind. I loved my parents. They had nothing yet still made us think we were the richest people in the world because we had each other.”
“You must miss them.” I knew they had both passed away within days of each other a few years ago.
“I do. Daddy used to call me every week and tease me, asking me if I was ready to leave John and come home. I used to beg them to come live near us. We offered to build them a house on our property, but they never wanted to feel like they were a charity case. They were so proud of me and John.”
Interesting. “So how did you meet?”
She rested her elbow on the back of the couch, and her head fell neatly into her manicured hand. Her humongous diamond wedding ring glittered in the light. “It’s a funny story. I was on my way to the diner one day to work a double shift. I was in my daddy’s old Oldsmobile truck that had a huge bulbous front. It was more rusted than it was painted, and boy, did it rumble.” She laughed, obviously fond of the old truck. “Anyway, I was driving down the highway, singing along to the static radio, and I see this handsome man dressed up in a fancy three-piece suit, pacing in front of his tiny red sports car that had steam pouring out of the popped hood. He looked so out of place, but there was something about him. He didn’t appear to be swearing or kicking the tires. I could see that while he paced, he was thoughtfully thinking about what his best course of action would be. This was back before the days of cell phones, and it was almost a five-mile walk into town, so he didn’t have a lot of options.”
