Before the Fall(3)

David’s eyes go to something over Maggie’s shoulder. He frowns.

Maggie turns. Ben and Sarah Kipling stand at the top of the stairs. They’re a wealthy couple, more David’s friends than hers. All the same, Sarah squeals when she sees Maggie.

“Darling,” she says, throwing open her arms.

Sarah gives Maggie a hug, the flight attendant standing awkwardly behind them, holding a tray of drinks.

“I love your dress,” says Sarah.

Ben maneuvers past his wife and charges David, shaking his hand vigorously. He is a partner at one of the big four Wall Street firms, a blue-eyed shark in a tailored blue button-down shirt and a pair of belted white shorts.

“Did you see the f*cking game?” he says. “How does he not catch that ball?”

“Don’t get me started,” says David.

“I mean, I could have caught that f*cking ball and I’ve got French toast hands.”

The two men stand toe-to-toe, mock posturing, two big bucks locking horns for the sheer love of battle.

“He lost it in the lights,” David tells him, then feels his phone buzz. He looks at it, frowns, types a reply. Ben glances quickly over his shoulder, his expression sobering. The women are busy chatting. He leans in closer.

“We need to talk, buddy.”

David shakes him off, still typing.

“Not now.”

“I’ve been calling you,” Kipling says. He starts to say more, but Emma is there with drinks.

“Glenlivet on the rocks, if I’m not mistaken,” she says, handing Ben a glass.

“You’re a doll,” Ben says, and knocks back half the scotch in one gulp.

“Just water for me,” David says as she lifts a glass of vodka from the tray.

“Of course,” she says, smiling. “I’ll be right back.”

A few feet away, Sarah Kipling has already run out of small talk. She gives Maggie’s arm a squeeze.

“How are you,” she says, earnestly, and for the second time.

“No, I’m good,” says Maggie. “I just—travel days, you know. I’ll be happy when we’re home.”

“I know. I mean, I love the beach, but honestly? I get so bored. How many sunsets can you watch and not want to just, I don’t know, go to Barneys?”

Maggie glances nervously at the open hatch. Sarah catches the look.

“Waiting for someone?”

“No. I mean, I think we’ll be one more, but—”

Her daughter saves her from having to say more.

“Mom,” says Rachel from her seat. “Don’t forget, tomorrow is Tamara’s party. We still have to get a gift.”

“Okay,” says Maggie, distracted. “Let’s go to Dragonfly in the morning.”

Looking past her daughter, Maggie sees David and Ben huddled together, talking. David doesn’t look happy. She could ask him about it later, but her husband has been so standoffish lately, and the last thing she wants is a fight.

The flight attendant glides past her and hands David his water.

“Lime?” she says.

David shakes his head. Ben rubs his bald spot nervously. He glances at the cockpit.

“Are we waiting for somebody?” he says. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“One more person,” says Emma, looking at her list. “Scott Burroughs?”

Ben glances at David. “Who?”

David shrugs. “Maggie has a friend,” he says.

“He’s not a friend,” Maggie says, overhearing. “I mean, the kids know him. We ran into him this morning at the market. He said he had to go to New York, so I invited him to join us. I think he’s a painter.”

She looks at her husband.

“I showed you some of his work.”

David checks his watch.

“You told him ten o’clock?” he says.

She nods.

“Well,” he says, sitting, “five more minutes and he’ll have to catch the ferry like everyone else.”

Through a round portal window, Maggie sees the captain standing on the tarmac examining the wing. He stares up at the smooth aluminum, then walks slowly toward the plane.

Behind her, JJ shifts in slumber, his mouth slack. Maggie rearranges the blanket over him, then gives his forehead a kiss. He always looks so worried when he sleeps, she thinks.

Over the chair back she sees the captain reenter the plane. He comes over to shake hands, a man quarterback-tall with a military build.

“Gentlemen,” he says, “ladies. Welcome. Should be a short flight. Some light winds, but otherwise the ride’ll be pretty smooth.”

“I saw you outside the plane,” says Maggie.

“Routine visual inspection,” he tells her. “I do it before every flight. The plane looks good.”

“What about the fog?” asks Maggie.

Her daughter rolls her eyes.

“Fog isn’t a factor with a sophisticated piece of machinery like this,” the pilot tells them. “A few hundred feet above sea level and we’re past it.”

“I’m gonna eat some of this cheese then,” says Ben. “Should we put on some music maybe? Or the TV? I think Boston’s playing the White Sox.”

Emma goes to find the game on the in-flight entertainment system, and there is a long moment of settling in as they take their seats and stow their belongings. Up front, the pilots run through their pre-flight instrument check.