2

What do you pack when life is waiting?  Tia wondered as she unlocked the front door to her dad’s townhouse. He’d gotten this place while she was in culinary arts school, downsizing from her childhood home in order to help her with tuition. After graduation, she’d taken over his guest room with plans to find a place of her own later. But somehow, although she’d been saving up, she’d never quite gotten around to it.

She went to the cluttered bedroom, trying to decide where to begin. On one hand, she wouldn’t mind leaving everything here, just in case. That seemed unfair to her dad, though. She knew this space had been his prized home office while she was in school. Oh, he’d never complained, but she felt pretty sure he’d like to use it again.

For that reason she spent most of the day going through her piles of stuff, boxing up some of it for storage and some to be sent to her later (if all went well), and bagging the rest of it to be donated to St. Vinnie’s. She carefully folded her culinary clothes, a mishmash of checkered, striped, and black pants along with her white chef’s coats and kitchen clogs. On top of this pile, she added her ukulele and her art case. So far she had plenty of room in her oversized suitcase.

And as she sorted through her nonwork clothes, it was obvious she would be traveling light. She picked up a well-worn Seattle Seahawks T-shirt that she was reluctant to part with. Not exactly the sort of thing she wanted to sport on the chic streets of San Francisco. She frowned at her garments. Clearly this was the wardrobe of a woman who spent most of her time in the kitchen—a woman with little or no social life. She was just tossing the T-shirt on her giveaway mound when her cell phone jangled.

“I’ve got your flight booked,” Julie told her. “Considering the short notice, not such a bad deal either. You ready to head out tomorrow?”

“I’m packing my bags right now.” Tia threw her favorite pair of jeans onto the “take” pile. “In fact, I was just wondering what sort of clothes I should bring. To be honest, my wardrobe is pretty pathetic.”

“Well, bring your chef’s clothes for sure,” Julie told her. “And some old work clothes too. Stuff you can just use and lose.”

“Right.” Tia reached into the giveaway stuff, extracting the Seahawks shirt and a couple of other raggedy things to put on her “take” pile. “I can’t wait to see you, Julie. And your boat.”

“I can’t wait to have you here to help me. It’s overwhelming. I’m so glad Uncle Tony agreed to let you come so quickly.”

As Julie gave her the details for tomorrow’s flight, Tia felt her stomach tighten. She’d only flown once before, and that had been a nerve-racking trip. Why hadn’t she suggested going down there by train or bus, or even hitchhiking?

“Your flight’s scheduled to land at 6:38. Roland and I will meet you at passenger pickup around 7:00. Unless there’s a flight delay. Just call my cell if there’s a problem. We’ll be driving my Subaru. It’s just your basic white SUV. I’m hoping you’ll be hungry because I made us a dinner reservation at this really cool restaurant, Le Bernard. I think you’ll appreciate it.”

“Sounds good.” Tia tried to block the nervous feeling building up inside her.

“It’s actually sort of like dining espionage, because I’d love to copy their menu for our dinner boat.”

“Well, imitation is supposed to be the highest form of flattery. Hey, maybe I can sneak a photo of the menu with my phone.”

Julie chuckled. “That might be pushing it. But at least you’ll get to sample the food and get a feel for the place.”

After Tia said good-bye, she took a deep breath. Flying is not a big deal, she told herself as she looked around at the messy room. She picked through her piles of clothes, trying to find something that would be swanky enough for a nice dinner in a stylish San Francisco restaurant. Nothing seemed remotely appropriate. Especially considering how chic her aunt could look when she dressed up for a night out. Tia would look like a frumpy old frau next to Julie. Like a boring piece of flatbread next to a fluffy golden croissant.

Just like that, Tia decided to do something she hadn’t done in ages: go shopping. After a couple hours of walking around their small town, which had a definite shortage of clothing shops, Tia had somehow managed to put together a fairly decent traveling outfit that would work for a night out as well. While she was shopping, she also picked up a few other items that would definitely improve her sparse wardrobe. She was just carrying an armload of bags to the townhouse when her dad pulled in. He hurried out of his car to help her.

“What’s going on here?” he asked with amusement as he relieved her of some of her packages. “My earth muffin girl turning into a shopaholic? What is the world coming to?”

She started to tell him about the job in San Francisco, but he stopped her. “I already know,” he said as he opened the front door. “Tony called me this afternoon.”

“That tattletale.” She dumped the bags by the door, shaking her hands to get the blood flowing in her fingers again.

“He called because he was worried.” Tia’s dad peered curiously at her. “He’s concerned that he encouraged you to do something you’ll regret. And if that happens, he’ll feel responsible.”

“Well, you can tell him that I’m doing this because I want to. He bears no responsibility whatsoever.”

Dad pointed at the mess of bags on the floor. “What is all this?”

She explained about the fancy restaurant and her lack of wardrobe, and her dad just laughed. “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

“Nothing. It’s just such a relief to see my little girl is growing up.”

She frowned at him.

“I’m sorry, Tia. It’s just that you’re such an attractive girl.” He tweaked her long brown ponytail. “But you never seem to do anything about it.” His smile faded. “Sometimes I think that’s my fault.”

“Why on earth would you say that?” She bent down to gather up the packages from the floor.

“Well . . . after your mom left . . . I probably didn’t encourage you much. At least not as far as fashion and girly things go.”

She dropped the bags and threw her arms around him. “You did just fine, Dad. I’m the way I am because that’s just who I am.” She stepped back and shrugged. “Glamour girls don’t really fit into commercial kitchens. And that’s fine with me.”

He patted her cheek. “But don’t kid yourself, Tia. You are a beautiful girl. I guess I should’ve told you that more while you were growing up.”

She laughed as she picked up the bags again. “That’s sweet, but I wouldn’t expect a dad to say anything less to his only daughter.” She headed for her room with him tailing her with more shopping bags.

“Deanna was coming over for dinner tonight,” he said as he set the packages inside her door. “But I didn’t realize you were leaving so soon. Tony said you might be gone by tomorrow.”

“That’s right. But you don’t need to cancel your plans with Deanna.” She tossed the packages on the bed.

“But I want to spend time with you,” he protested. “We all know how you usually hide out in here when Deanna’s around.”

“I just do that to give you your space,” she confessed. “I’d like to see her before I go.”

“Really? You’d join us for dinner?”

“Sure, if you want me to. FYI, I actually like Deanna. I think you guys make a good couple.”

“You do?” He looked genuinely surprised.

“I do. And maybe you’ll make more progress with her after I go.”

His brow creased. “But that’s not why you’re—”

“No, of course not. I’m going because I want to. It sounds exciting.”

He looked relieved. “Well, I’m sure Julie is thrilled to get you. Tony said that Roland’s had some health problems and plans to take early retirement. It’s time for them to change their lifestyle.”

“Yeah, I know.” As she unloaded a shopping bag, she told him about tomorrow night’s dinner plans with Julie and Roland.

“Sounds like fun.”

“By the way,” she asked, “who’s cooking dinner tonight?”

“Not you,” he assured her. “Deanna offered.”

“Good.” Tia chuckled as her dad left. The truth was, Deanna was a pretty pathetic cook. But one night of a Deanna dinner wouldn’t kill her.

As it turned out, the Deanna dinner wasn’t half bad. The green salad was edible, and although the halibut was dry, the sauce she’d bought at the fish market helped. Tia wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination or simply the fact that she was distracted about her upcoming trip, but Deanna actually seemed a lot sweeter than usual too.

“Tia got some new clothes for San Francisco,” Dad told Deanna as the three of them cleared the table.

“Good for you,” Deanna told her.

“Yeah, you’re probably thinking it’s about time.” Tia rinsed food scraps into the disposal.

“I didn’t say that.” Deanna put a hand on Tia’s shoulder. “But I’ve often thought you could do more with your looks. You really are a gorgeous girl.” She looked closely at Tia. “In fact, I’ve often felt you resemble Penélope Cruz.”

“Uh, thanks.” Tia turned on the disposal, hoping the loud roar would discourage more conversation about her looks. This was definitely not her comfort zone.

“But running around with your hair pulled back so tightly, not a speck of makeup, and your unisex cook’s clothes . . . well, who could tell?” Deanna chuckled.

Normally a comment like this—coming from anyone but Dad—would put Tia off, but tonight she felt curious. “Well, you’ll be relieved to hear that I actually bought some girl clothes.” She peered at her dad’s girlfriend. Although Deanna was seventeen years older than Tia, she could easily pass as her sister. Deanna’s appearance was always impeccable, which was probably one of the reasons Tia could never relate to her. “But I’m interested in your opinion. What else would you suggest?”

“Seriously?” Deanna broke into a big smile. “You’re asking me for help?”

“Well, you’re the expert.” Tia made a stiff smile. She knew that Deanna’s side job was selling Terry Fay cosmetics. Tia had even heard Deanna mention that she’d made more money selling Terry Fay than selling real estate. Of course, that was when the housing market had been pretty depressed.

“Oh, Tia, I would just love to give you a makeover. And I just happen to have my Terry Fay sample case in my car. Would you really consider it?”

Tia felt like she was biting a bullet as she nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

“Well, I’m going to run out there and get it right this minute.” Deanna thrust her kitchen towel at Dad. “You know what they say—strike while the iron’s hot.”

After Deanna left, Dad peered curiously at Tia. “I think it’s really sweet of you to let Deanna do this. She looked like you’d given her the moon. But are you sure you don’t mind being worked over?”

Tia just laughed. “Hey, it might be fun.” Also, she thought, it might distract her from fretting over tomorrow’s flight. For whatever reason, she was feeling haunted by it.

As it turned out, Deanna was much better at makeovers than she was at cooking. She started by giving Tia a facial that smelled like cucumbers and oranges. “Your skin is really good,” she said as she wiped on the goop. “But working in the kitchen will take its toll, if you’re over a hot stove so much and not cleansing and hydrating properly.”

By the time Deanna removed the goop, Tia could tell the difference. Her cheek was soft and smooth with a fresh, tingly feeling. Deanna went through a bunch of other steps, most of which were lost on Tia, although she didn’t really mind. The whole process was surprisingly relaxing. Even if she wound up looking like Dolly Parton, it wouldn’t matter because she’d simply wash it off before bed anyway.

“I realize that you’re more of a natural girl.” Deanna removed the band that had been containing Tia’s ponytail, taking a few seconds to fluff out her long hair and letting it tumble down around her shoulders.

“Don’t you mean ‘earth muffin,’ like Dad’s always saying?”

“I don’t know about that. But I did feel you needed a softer touch in the makeup department. And I respect that.” Deanna closed her sample case. “So I’ve tried to keep it casual.”

“Thanks.” Tia smiled.

“Aren’t you going to go look in the mirror?”

“Oh, yeah.” Tia went into the living room where a mirror hung over the gas fireplace. “Wow.” She peered at herself in wonder. Her skin seemed to be glowing, and her eyes looked darker and bigger. Even the lip gloss color, a soft shade of coral, was very becoming. With her hair loosely framing her face, she thought perhaps she really did resemble Penélope Cruz. “That’s actually not half bad, Deanna.”

“Not half bad?” Deanna came over to stand by her. “It’s really quite good. What do you think, Vince?”

Tia’s dad looked up from his ball game, then let out a low whistle. “I told you she was a beauty,” he said to Deanna. “Nice work.”

“All I did was draw attention to her fabulous natural features.” Deanna pointed at Tia’s face. “See these high cheekbones? Girls would kill for that. And those big eyes with the thick, dark lashes. And her lips are so nice and full, and—”

“Oh, you guys.” Tia laughed as she waved her hand at them. “I don’t think I can take too much more of this. I’m going to bed.”

“But it’s early. You should take that gorgeous face out on the town,” Deanna told her.

“No thanks.” Tia shook her head. “I still have a lot to get done before my flight tomorrow.”

“By the way, how are you getting to the airport?” Dad asked.

“I hadn’t really figured that out yet.” Tia grimaced at the realization. “I’m guessing they need you at work. I should get to Sea-Tac around 3:00, which means I’d need to leave here around noon. I thought about taking a taxi. Or maybe I’ll ask—”

“I’ll take you,” Deanna said suddenly.

“Really?” Tia blinked.

“Absolutely. I’d love to. I don’t have anything important going on tomorrow.”

“Are you sure? It’ll take a good chunk of your day, you know.”

Deanna nodded. “And I plan to drop off a going-away present for you tomorrow morning. I’ll stop by before I check in at the real estate office.”

“A present?”

“I’m going to print out instructions for everything I did here tonight. And I’ll give you the same products I used on you. That way you can do it yourself before we head for Seattle.”

Tia wasn’t sure what to think but simply nodded. “That’s really generous, Deanna. Thanks. For everything.” Thinking Deanna and her dad might like to be alone now, she told them good night and returned to her room to finish organizing and packing. But when she noticed her image in the mirror above her dresser, she had to do a double take. She really did look pretty good—and not overdone either. She felt almost as if Deanna had worked some sort of magic on her.

Tia felt like someone else as Deanna drove her to Sea-Tac airport the next day. First of all, it was unbelievable that she was getting out of Norton and going to San Francisco—to work on a floating restaurant that she was going to help set up. That was totally amazing. But almost equally amazing was that for the first time she could remember, Tia actually felt pretty. It was partly due to the new outfit, which was a relatively simple ensemble but made her feel good. Her little black dress, which fit perfectly, was made of a silky knit fabric that was not supposed to wrinkle during the flight. Over that, she had a lacy, pale gray cardigan that reminded her of a spider web, but in a good way. Instead of her clunky Dansko clogs, she had on a pretty pair of black Nine West sandals. Topping it all off was the makeover that Deanna had helped her with again this morning. All together it seemed to elevate her confidence to a whole new level. Now if only it could increase her courage for this upcoming flight.

“You better keep in touch,” Deanna said as she pulled into the passenger drop-off area. “Send us lots of photos. And not just of the boat and scenery. Send pictures of yourself too.”

“I will,” Tia promised as they got out of the car to get her bags. “Thanks so much for everything.” She hugged Deanna tightly. “Tell Dad I’ll call him when I get there.” Just like that, Tia was on her own, feeling like a million bucks as she walked into the terminal. Oh, she knew she was earlier than necessary. But she hoped that having time to walk around and acclimate herself would help with her flight phobia. Plus, it would help her to avoid the stress of running late. Just like in the kitchen, preparation and organization were her keys to success. Or so she hoped.

Tia waited in line for an e-ticket machine, but she immediately felt flustered and frustrated when it didn’t seem to work like it was supposed to. “Come over here.” A woman behind the ticket counter waved her over.

“Thank you,” Tia said gratefully. “I honestly don’t know what I’m doing. Or I’m just too nervous to do it right. This is only the second time I’ve flown. And I’m not sure how I’m supposed to check my bag.”

“Only your second flight ever?” The agent looked skeptical as she took the e-ticket.

Tia assured her it was, and then, as the woman typed something into her computer, Tia explained about San Francisco and the restaurant boat and Julie.

“Interesting,” the agent said. “Well, it’s not a very full flight today, and since you got here early and you look so nice, I’ve upgraded you to an empty seat in first class.”

“Seriously?”

The agent smiled as she tagged the bag to be checked. “You don’t have to mention this to anyone. Don’t want to create passenger envy.”

“I won’t say a word.” Tia pointed to her large suitcase. “Do you think my ukulele will be okay in there?”

The agent blinked as she handed Tia her ticket packet. “A ukulele?”

“It’s in a hard case,” Tia said quickly. “With clothes packed all around it.”

The agent laughed. “Well, your suitcase looks pretty sturdy too. I’m betting your ukulele will be just fine.” She stuck an orange sticker on the bag. “But this will remind the baggage guys to take it easy. Now have a good trip.”

Tia thanked her, and feeling much lighter both physically and mentally with only her small carry-on bag, she made her way through security and then to the gate. So far so good. Her flight fears seemed to be shrinking. With plenty of time to spare, she picked up a couple of magazines, some water, and a bag of mixed nuts, then found a seat near her gate.

She almost felt relaxed as she flipped through the first magazine. But just as she was reaching for the second magazine, she noticed the other people in the waiting area anxiously pointing to the TV screens and talking amongst themselves with worried expressions. She looked up at one of the screens, only to see what looked like airplane wreckage over a body of water. She read the words beneath the picture—a French jetliner had gone down somewhere over the Atlantic. She took in a deep breath, willing her pounding heart to slow down as she stared up at the frightening scene.

Really, she asked herself, what are the odds of two passenger jets crashing on the same day? But before she could answer that question, the gate agent called for first-class passengers to board. Praying a silent prayer, she headed for the short line already forming. A man in a dark suit stepped aside to let her go ahead of him, nodding with what felt like approval. As she thanked him, she glanced down at her traveling outfit, so unlike her usual kitchen garb, and smiled to herself. Well, at least if she was going down, she was going down in style.