Just Deserts Read Online Free Page A

he’d said, there wouldn’t have been time for the plane to get here by now … would there? But technically it was a company jet, and some of the other high-ranking executives were allowed to use it if my father didn’t need it. Maybe one of them was in Europe on business, and now he’d have to take a commercial flight back. Better him than me. Or maybe McWilliams had just gotten things confused.
    Whatever. It really didn’t matter, and it didn’t require any more of my thought or time or energy. All that mattered was that the plane was there.
    â€œHopefully we’ll be able to leave right away,” I said.
    â€œI’m sure they’ll have to refuel and file a flight plan.”
    That wouldn’t take too much time. All I wanted to do was get home, go to my room and lie down in my bed. I liked my bed a lot.
    â€œI don’t drive many people to the private airport,” the driver said.
    â€œIt is a private jet.”
    â€œThat’s so classy,” he said.
    A rule of thumb was that anybody who ever said “classy” wasn’t.
    â€œWhose plane is it?” he asked.
    â€œIt’s my father’s jet.”
    â€œWow, it must be nice to have a private plane.”
    â€œYes, it is,” I agreed.
    â€œSomeday I might get a chance to—”
    I pushed the button and the window glided up, sealing me in the back. What was the point in contin-uing this conversation? He was a chauffeur and I was his passenger. All I wanted was to get on that plane.
    IT WAS GOOD TO SEE the jet on the runway—a little piece of home waiting to take me home. Wait … was it taking me home to New York, or to one of our other houses? I really didn’t know where my father was. Was it possible he was in Europe, and that was why his plane was already here? It wouldn’t have surprised me to learn that he was nearby and hadn’t bothered to visit me at school. But that would mean he might even be in the airplane, waiting for me. I knew I had to face him, but did it have to be right now? Especially trapped together at twenty-five thousand feet for six hours? That was not the way I had it planned. I needed more time to prepare my story, and certainly a way to get some distance if it turned nasty. It wasn’t like I could climb out onto the wing of the plane, and I wasn’t planning on spending the entire trip locked in the bathroom.
    No, come to think of it, he couldn’t be on the plane. McWilliams had said he’d awakened him in the middle of the night, which would have meant he was in New York, not Europe. I was safe, at least for now.
    The car came to a stop. The driver stepped out and opened my door, and then went to the trunk to remove my things.
    I got out, and he pulled out the bags and went to hand them to me.
    â€œPut them on board,” I ordered, and then turned and walked toward the plane.
    Standing at the top of the stairs was my father’s pilot, Captain Evans, and the co-pilot, a fairly new guy. Captain Evans had been with my father longer than I’d been alive. He was old, really old, maybe even in his fifties. I had to admit that it felt a little risky to be in a plane piloted by somebody who might have a heart attack or something. Perhaps it would be wise to get to know the name of the co-pilot, at least. While a pilot wasn’t really much more than a fancy chauffeur, it wasn’t like we could call roadside assistance and ask to be towed if there were problems.
    â€œGood to see you,” Captain Evans said.
    â€œIt’ll be even better to see home,” I replied, and then paused. I needed to check. “Is my father on board?”
    â€œHe’s back in New York. Knowing him, he’s probably at work already.”
    My father was famous in the business world for working around the clock. I knew it wasn’t unusual for him to be at work at three or four in the morning.
    â€œWill he be waiting for me when