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“Help me out here.” Some scaffolding supporting Davis’s front of confidence slipped as he added, “Please.”
I had never been one to bow to peer pressure—but I also was a sucker for someone who needed help. The third option, the cheese tray, seemed like the cheapest choice, the smallest compromise. Even that tasted sour in my mouth as I said it.
“Oh, no, no, no,” Davis said. “Do you like cheese?”
“No, I ordered that because I’m lactose intolerant,” I snapped.
He laughed. “Is your idea of a cheese tray mild cheddar and Colby?”
I hated that he had a point. Nothing was wrong with either in the right context, but as a main course, that did sound bland.
This was airplane food. Never mind the fact that I didn’t know airplane food existed anymore—of course it was bland.
Apparently Davis knew the menu well enough for his judgement to count. “The grain bowl,” I sighed, copying his order.
Helga returned quickly with our meals and to flutter her fake eyelashes at Davis. For airplane food, the grain bowl actually wasn’t bad, what I could taste around the guilt choking me.
“Are there many hospitals in Philadelphia?” Davis asked once I’d finished.
“Couple dozen,” Dr. Donaldson replied without looking up, already back on his computer screen.
I was not about to get sucked into conversation or any other ethical quandaries with Davis Hardcastle again, no matter what he thought about Dr. Donaldson’s intentions. I shifted closer to Dr. Donaldson when Helga came by to collect our trash—with a can of sparkling water for each of us, of course. I put mine to the side and vowed not to touch it, although it was peach-pear, my favorite flavor.
I started to ask Dr. Donaldson about test results when I saw what he was actually looking up: Everett Hardcastle’s bio in IMDb.
It listed two siblings: (late) older sister Greer and younger brother Davis.
I had a million questions—Why would he go to Philly? What was he doing in coach, making inane conversation with us peasants? Did he think stealing food from the airline would impress us?
More than that, I had the overwhelming desire to never, ever talk to Davis Hardcastle again. He might have been the most attractive man I’d ever seen up close, so of course my mind and body might go a little haywire around him. But obviously all that money had gone straight to his head. I had worked so hard to get where I was, being professionally impeccable at all times, and all he’d done was be born to get everything he could ever dream of.
He probably hadn’t worked a day in his life. Of course he had no concept of ethics. Sitting here lecturing me about Dr. Donaldson while he turned around and took whatever was offered to him as the entitled, silver-spoon son of a septillionaire. Wow.
I tried not to look his way again for the rest of the flight. At least not any time he could’ve caught me.
On the elevator up to the Beaufort University Hospital lobby the morning after my flight, I straightened my tie. The suit I’d sent ahead last week might have been overkill, but I wanted everything to be perfect today. First impressions were key. I might not love the baggage my name brought with it, but I had been taught well that the clothes did make the Hardcastle.
After all, coordinating outfits almost made our group photos look like an actual family.
Things would be different here. I’d help people. I’d earn respect. I’d make a difference.
I’d have a different life.
I hoped, anyway.
It was off to a promising start: the real estate agent I’d hired had picked out a decent apartment, and the designer had made it livable before I arrived. Add in perfectly tender Israeli lamb, branzino and laffa bread via Delivrd, and the first night of my new life was comfortable enough, even if it was a little chilly for May.
And very quiet.
But that was one night. Things would be different here: I could feel it. I’d help even more people—and people who needed it more—than in all my years working in Napa, and my life would have purpose.
The elevator dinged and I stepped off, drawing a deep breath. Showtime.
“Information desk?” I asked a passing orderly.
He grunted and flipped a hand in a vague direction behind him.
Like yesterday, Operation: Make New Friends was off to a raging start. After all, I’d had the entire cabin crew fawning over a Hardcastle. Again.
