He gives a slow whistle. “Wow. That’s amazing.” He traces the art, caressing my spine, and when he gets to where skin meets dress he splays his hand wide to rest on my lower back. He leans in to whisper, “Can I get you a drink?”
“If you are planning on trying to booze me up to get me out of this dress, don’t worry. You don’t need the booze. That tux does it for me.” I turn back to face him and find I’m wrapped in his arms. “Jeez, how are we gonna get through the night?” He glances over my shoulder. “There’s a guy heading toward us, he’s the dean of my department, Dr. Hughes. He’s the one pushing me toward the doctorate program.”
“And so it begins. You better get me a white wine, please.”
His boss arrives and on his heels is another guy who looks nothing like the academic sort. A lumberjack, maybe. A professor, no way.
“Dr. Hughes,” Brinn says as they shake hands. “Allow me to introduce my date, Josie Woodmere.”
“You, my dear, are quite lovely.” The dean tells me as he shakes my hand, his firm and not the least bit sweaty.
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you. Brinn speaks highly of you.”
Dr. Hughes is an average man who is best described as...ordinary. Difficult to pick out in a lineup. He gestures to the lumberjack. “This is Shawn Henderson, Shawn and I go way back to our days at Riddle,” Dr. Hughes explains. “We’re having a discussion—”
“An argument,” Henderson says, then leans next to me and orders a double scotch, neat.
“Fine. An argument. About how the aviation industry is changing. Shawn believes it’s changing more rapidly than I do. He thinks chartering is going to become more lucrative. Like people will be using apps and—” Dr. Hughes shakes his head.
“I said chartering is no longer something for the wealthy. That a co-op it is the way to go. First-class passengers would prefer to spend their money on charters and if they could manage it all through an app the better.” His drink is gone in two swallows and he orders another.
“I told Shawn here you have a keen business mind for aviation and we should get your take.” Dr. Hughes waves at Brinn to chime in.
I smirk at Brinn. Seems I’ve heard this conversation before.
“Well, sir. I’ve thought long about this topic and I actually agree with Mr. Henderson here with the exception of co-oping. That becomes less cost effective for the traveler. The way to go is to marry the best of fractional ownerships with charters and create a hybrid with a limited fleet. They buy on with a certain amount of miles; get the quality they are looking for, with some variety. Each plan could be customized based on their needs.” He turns to me. “I’ve been giving it some thought.”
“That, son, is a brilliant idea.” Henderson slaps him on the back. “I want to be in on the start-up.” He pulls a business card from his pocket and hands it to Brinn. “I’m serious. I’m looking to invest in innovative, forward-thinking companies and that one is the best I’ve heard in a long time.”
Brinn tucks the card inside his breast pocket. “I’ll keep you in mind should I decide to go forward with it, but currently I’m wanting to buy into a flight school.”
“Ah, you’re wasted on that. Get out there. Change the scope of aviation. Shake it up,” Henderson says.
“I agree,” I say and tuck my hand in his. “Capital be damned.”
“Atta girl.” Henderson swats me on the back. “Capital can always be found for something worthy.”
“By the way. Your application hasn’t crossed my desk, Brinn. I hope you’re still considering applying for the Ph.D. program. You’ve one week left.”
“Well, sir,” he says and shuffles next to me.
I hold my breath. Could it be?
“I hope you’ll understand that I’ve decided not to submit my application. I enjoy working at the university. But I don’t see myself building a career in academia. It is truly an honor that you believe I’m suited for that. I appreciate that.” Brinn extends his hand and the dean shakes his head before taking it.
“Maybe next year,” Dr. Hughes says. “You understand that I’ll likely have to give your adjunct job to one of the Ph.D. candidates?”
Brinn nods and I wrap my arms around his and squeeze.
“Seeing past the current play?” Henderson asks Brinn.
“Without a doubt.”
Again, Henderson slaps him on the back. “Hall of Fame quarterbacks always do.”
A tall redhead with creamy white skin and a ginormous diamond around her neck joins the group and links her arm through Henderson’s.
“Pardon, darling, but I must steal you away if you’re talking business or football. You have six other days to do that.”
“Suzanna, this young man is the next big thing in aviation if we can convince him to run with his idea. This is Brinn McRae and his girlfriend...”
“Josie Woodmere,” I say and extend my hand. I let the girlfriend remark go.
Suzanna Henderson leans in closer to me and stares. “You look so familiar to me. I just can’t place it. What did you say your last name was?”
“Woodmere. I’m not from here. I grew up in New England.”
Suzanna snaps her fingers. “Is your mother Cassandra Woodmere?”
I stiffen and feel Brinn’s attention snap to me. I try to breathe. “Yes, she is.”
Suzanna claps her hands in delight. “Oh, I love your mother. We went to Vassar together. We were in the same sorority and pledged at the same time.” She lowers her voice. “Of course, I knew her when she was Cassie Williamson and used to... Well, those are stories I’m sure she’d rather you hear from her. Is your mother here?” Her head moves as if on a swivel searching for my mother.
“No. She’s not.” I have to consciously force myself to relax.
“Well you tell her that Suzanna Simmons Henderson says hello. You look just like her. She was just as beautiful as you are, and I’m sure she still is.”
“Thank you. It was nice meeting you. I’m sorry but I must excuse myself. I have to catch up with someone before they leave.” The urge to run out of the room and to the next town is crushing.
I hold it together long enough to execute a polite smile before I slip away. Brinn says his farewells and I sense him come up behind me before I feel his hand on my back. I continue walking to the exit.
“Hey, you OK?”
I huff out a heavy breath. “My parents don’t know I’m here and I really didn’t want them to. I’m sure Suzanna Henderson will let my mother know first chance she gets.”
“Is it so bad that they know?” He propels me toward a small alcove that provides us some privacy.
“I don’t know. After the incident with the artist in Washington, they really did a heavy campaign for me to come home. It’s not me they wanted. Just another Woodmere to walk around my father’s office. When I didn’t, it made ‘Cassie’ even more furious.”
“What’s the worst that could happen? You’re an adult.”
“I know. I just like having my anonymity.” I hold the lapels of his tux, rubbing my thumbs up and down, and my panicky, erratic pulse is replaced by a steady, excited one. “Did I say yet how incredibly hot you look in this?”