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May 6 (London)
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Taking two steps at a time, Kyle flew down the private jet steps, shielding his face from the coldblooded British rain. He took a deep lungful of the air, heavy with diesel fumes. At the bottom step, he made out the low gray building made even grayer by the weather. Though Gatwick Airport was situated further than Heathrow from London, its international access by private jet and the reduced landing and handling endeared it to Kyle.
For him, time was the most valuable commodity humans had.
I’ve wasted it so much lately.
At the foot of the jet stairs was a sleek black Jaguar XJ, his London car. Waiting patiently in front of the car was Eddie, his London chauffeur.
“Welcome back, Mr. Kyle,” Eddie said.
With a warm smile, he swept him under an umbrella, even when Kyle protested and insisted Eddie continue using it. He tried to put his own bag in the trunk, but Eddie was an old-fashioned sort of gentleman, and was having none of it.
Woozy from the 11-hour flight, Kyle’s head hit the back seat the second he sat on the perforated quilted leather interior.
Eddie slipped inside and tilted his hatted head to the back seat. “I hope you had a pleasant flight.”
“I did, thank you. How goes it?”
“Well, sir. Very well,” the driver responded, started the soundless engine of the car and drove off the tarmac. “It has been a while since you came to London.”
“Yes, a year.” Taking off his glasses, Kyle wiped the raindrops off and put them on again.
“How long will you stay this time?”
“Two months.”
“Very good. Err...Shelia mentioned you will not be working out of your London office.”
“Yes,” Kyle said, turning to the window. They were passing the Surrey Hills, their beauty blurred in fog and rain. “I will be working from home. Uh...we had some strategic changes at BirdsEye. I may drop into the London office from time to time, but I am taking a hiatus.”
A forced leave of absence.
It still stung.
“Well, I am sure your mother will be happy to see you, regardless.”
Ha.
“Yes. And how is your daughter?”
“Emma finished her A-Levels at Brampton College. The missus and I are very proud of her...and...Mr. Paxton, we can never thank you enough for paying Emma’s tuition. We are eternally grateful.”
“Please don’t mention it again. It was my pleasure. And how is Myron?”
“Happy wife. Happy life, sir. You know how it goes.”
I really don’t.
An icy finger pinched his heart as he recalled the ring he once kept in his pocket for Juniper. He had almost popped the question in Chicago. The Proto-Smash Conference. It felt like years ago. Not months. And now he was walking back to her.
Cold bumps prickled his skin as he wondered what she was doing at that very second.
