The Flight Before Christmas Ch. 03

"Should I kill it?" she asked, seeing and smelling it herself.

"Not yet. Let it go. Let's see if it settles down."

It required barely a minute for the engine to smooth out to a steady hum. She let it idle a few more before shutting it down.

"Come sit with me," she said, patting the passenger seat.

I joined her, and we both shut our doors.

She sat silently for a few moments. I saw her wipe a tear out of her eye.

"I can't tell you how good this makes me feel."

I smiled, taking her hand.

"Memories are flooding back all of a sudden," she said as larger tears came.

"Happy tears, I hope?"

"Oh, yeah." She laughed. "It's been so many years. I can barely remember the last time I drove this car … well, that's not true. The last time I drove it, I was in a teeny tiny accident."

"Teeny tiny?"

"Eensy-weensy. I was nineteen. I'd come home from Peterson on leave. I had to work my ass off around here for the two weeks off I had in order to pay my father back for the repairs. After that, he only let me drive one of the half-ton beat-up old farm trucks."

She sat silently for a number of moments.

"I loved him so much. I really miss him," she said with a sniffle.

I didn't have any words to offer her. I quietly held her hand as her mind processed.

"Todd, you've given me so much. I can't ever repay you."

"I'd never expect you to. This was really, really, my pleasure. I loved every minute of it, and the look on your face right now is worth it all."

"A Digi-Tab is almost a thousand dollars. Now this ? It had to cost some money, too, right?"

I'd spent only a few hundred on the car and fourteen hours of my time.

"Meh," I said while waggling my flattened palm with a grin. "Besides, you opened your home to me and tolerated the inconvenience of it becoming an instant airport. This is absolutely the least I could do."

After we were back in the house, she went to the kitchen and brought me a wrapped package she removed from a cabinet.

"Your turn," she said, offering it to me.

I was quite surprised. I certainly wasn't expecting a present from her.

I carefully unwrapped it to find the photograph she'd taken of the three of us in front of her fireplace a day or two before. She'd placed it in a black-stained wood frame which held white paint-penned cursive handwriting.

Look Who Dropped In! (Christmas 2017) was on the bottom, and smatterings of smiley faces graced the top and sides.

I laughed in absolute joy.

"Oh, this is so thoughtful. Thank you!" I said, smiling intently. "This is going on the credenza behind my desk so everyone will be able to see it. I wonder how many times I'll be telling this whole tale."

"Not all of it, right?"

"No. Some parts are only for you to tell," I answered. I then offered her the second box.

"You've already set a pretty high bar, you know?" she said in caution as she began to peel the paper.

I stopped her. "Wait. I want you to know this isn't a gift, per se . It's more like … an offer. A … never mind. Open it."

"Now I'm really curious," she said and tore through the paper quickly.

I watched her eyes again as she lifted the lid off the box. Instead of instant understanding when she saw the Camaro's new keys, her brows cinched and furrowed. She removed a laminated identification badge. It wasn't legit, though, because I'd need an RFID programmer and card printer to make one, but I managed to create a reasonable facsimile of the real deal.

Next to the casual photo I'd taken of her, it read:

Brenda E. Mays
Level 4
Carlson Research, LLC

"Todd? What is this?" she asked, letting it dangle from the neck lanyard.

"A real one is yours if you want it. I remember you telling me how much you liked your work in the AFOSI. While my company doesn't fly employees all over the world like your prior job did, there's occasional travel when needed."

"You're being serious?" she whispered, still sounding like she was in disbelief. "What's level four?"

"A level four researcher. Most new-hires, even ones with experience, start at level one or two and work their way up by merit and case closure rate."

"What does that mean?"

"Higher levels have access to more information and work the more complicated or higher-value cases. Lower levels work smaller stuff or do work for higher level researchers."

The background check I had Benny run was critical. It's a requirement in Texas, as well as many other states, that investigators be screened as a provision of licensing the firm. The information was not at all important to me. I only wanted to get the green light, which was why I instructed Benny to delete all the findings except for the clearance itself.

"What level are you?" she asked.

"I'm the owner, so I don't have a number. But you'd be my equal because level four is the top tier. Right now, there are only three level fours. Benny, the guy who helped me find my way back here and made the insurance connection last night, is one of them. They're sort of like unofficial partners. Your help figuring out this whole disaster I dropped on you proves you're capable of working at the top."

She looked at me questioningly.

"You could work from here in your free time. The IT folks can get you set up with secure access to our network. You could even relocate to Houston and work at the offices … you know … if you're tired of cold weather," I added when I remembered something she'd told me in the parking lot of Dairy Street.

"You know I'm kind of pinned down here running this place, right? Plus, I've kinda become accustomed to keeping my daughter close to me, at least until she's in school."

"You could work from home there, too. And, if you're needed in the office, we have contracts with a number of fantastic daycare centers. Stacie will be in Kindergarten in less than two years, right?"

She nodded.

I could tell she was giving it some serious consideration.

"How would I manage this place?"

"With the number of contacts my company has, I'm sure we could find someone to operate or even manage your business while you maintain ownership. Or, you could keep it and lease the land out, or we could even find a stellar buyer if that seems a better option for you and Stacie."

"This is all so sudden. It's an incredibly enticing offer. Can I have some time to think about it?"

"Sure. It'll take me a minute to refill my coffee," I said with a chuckle, standing up and walking to the kitchen. "Seriously, though. Take as much time as you want. I'm not putting an expiration date on it."

I watched her as she looked around the space in which she'd spent a lifetime. She focused on the empty spot on the floor next to the TV where a particular glass-fronted cabinet had once stood.

"Brenda, don't do anything you don't want to. I'm just putting it out there."

"I have to ask. What you're offering sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime. Why are you doing this?"

"Simple. First, I think you'd be fantastic at it.

"Second, I'd like to have a hand in giving you a career very similar to the one you had to step away from in order to manage a business I'm not so convinced you enjoy.

"Third, the pay is good, especially considering … we can talk about bonuses later.

"Last, but absolutely and positively not least … I …"

It took me several more moments to summon the courage to speak.

"Brenda … I … I've fallen in love with you and I'm coming apart inside thinking I'm never going to see you again."

She pressed her lips together firmly. When I saw a few tears forming in the corners of her eyes, I prepared my soul to get crushed.

Since people often give hugs to ease the breaking of bad news, that she reached for me and grasped me into a tight embrace didn't soothe me.

"I need to go check on Stacie," she said with a weak, shaky voice.

She was absent for a few minutes.

"Come outside with me?" she asked when she returned, not breaking her stride.

I wordlessly followed her. I didn't even stop to pick up my coat.

She pointed to the passenger side of the Camaro as she climbed into the driver's seat.

After we'd closed the doors, she finally spoke.

"Todd, you understand I can't give you a concrete answer right now, don't you?"

"I do. I'm sorry if I've dumped a heap on you."

"It's not a heap. It's just … it's a surprise."

She sat quietly for a few moments, then said, "Come on. Stacie is totally engrossed coloring on the tablet Santa brought her, so let's take this for a five-minute spin," she said, starting the car.

The county road abutting her driveway had been plowed and salted, so it was clear of ice and snow. She simply drove a mile, turned around, and drove us back.

Before she opened her door, she said, "I think we have a problem."

"With the car?"

"Yeah."

She kissed me so passionately I saw birdies circling my head.

Then she said, "Can this beauty manage a nine-hundred-mile drive to Houston?" before kissing me again.

Despite the discomfort from the minor injuries, the time I spent in Nebraska were the most relaxed, yet exciting, rewarding, and fulfilling weeks in recent memory. Brenda and Stacie followed me in the Camaro as I drove the rented Enclave to Lincoln Airport where I'd catch a flight from there to Houston with a brief layover in Denver.

We met up in the departures area. Since the lines for security were light, I decided to spend my remaining time with the two ladies for as long as I could.

Stacie was saddened when the realization of my departure became clearer as she discovered what an airport was for. But, as it was her first time visiting one, she was rightfully awed watching the planes taking off and landing.

Of course, a four-year-old doesn't really understand the significance of a kiss between a man and a woman. She only stood silently as her mother and I shared some appropriate-for-public-eye affection.

Kids that age absolutely do, though, understand hugs. Hers was sweetly powerful as I picked her up off the terrazzo, squeezing her 'til she grunted, and kissing her on the forehead, rapidly encouraging her exquisite giggles before I stepped into the TSA queue.

"Say goodbye, chigger," Brenda said to her daughter as I passed them with the cordon belt between us.

"Bye, Mr. Todd!"

"See you soon, kiddo! Don't forget to send me all the cool pictures you draw on your tablet!"

Brenda gave me another sweet kiss before I was "encouraged" to continue the path when a family of travelers entered the queue behind me.

I waved and blew them one last air kiss right as I stepped into the screening machine.

I was inside my own house at 7:30 that night. It was seventeen degrees on my departure, and 61 degrees on my arrival. And, of course, as luck would have it, the uncomfortable and awkward sutures in my tongue chose that moment to finally fall out.

I texted Benny. I'm back in Katy. I'll be in the office first thing in the morning. There's something off-book I want your help with. Happy New Year!

I received a thumbs-up emoji a minute later.

The sod farm is now managed by a commercial outfit, and the house is tended to by a professional service. I fully supported Brenda's decision to keep it in her family, and it's now a place to where we retreat when we need peace, quiet, and wide-open spaces. There's something quite marvelous about having a picnic on a lush, green, perfectly manicured 240-acre lawn.

Francis David McNearny of Spokane, Washington, was arrested by agents in, of all places, Albuquerque, New Mexico. He'd been located when the cellphone he'd used to set his scheme in motion suddenly reappeared on the network.

He was arrested at the residence of the person who was later determined to have been the one acting as the "buyer" of the Cirrus. The relationship between the two wasn't shared with the media. I could have spent some time sussing out those details, but frankly, I didn't care. The latter was charged with aiding and abetting a fugitive and conspiracy to commit murder.

He plead his charges down and is serving no less than two years in the Federal Correctional facility in Safford, Arizona.

McNearny was charged with attempted murder, grand larceny, wire fraud, insurance fraud, violations of numerous federal aviation and commerce regulations, as well as violations of 14 CFR §91.11: Prohibition on interference with crewmembers .

The most serious charges were added once the NTSB and FBI had completed their forensics. They'd discovered swimming-pool-strength sodium hypochlorite had been added to the oil which degraded the silk gaskets of several cylinder heads, as well as the propeller hub. They also determined the onboard oxygen tank had been evacuated and refilled with welder's argon. Proof of both purchases were found in credit card records.

He'll be in federal prison for the next twenty-three to thirty-seven years.

A "tip," including some very damning documentation I'd uncovered, was given to a particular author and investigative journalist. He also happened to have been a very appreciative recent client. The information led him to investigate the Seward County Sheriff.

A revealing and embarrassing exposé was published in both the Lincoln Journal Star and the Omaha World-Herald two weeks before the election. It detailed Otis Merle Farber's penchant for accepting kickbacks and bribes. The man who'd sat in the chair for over twenty years was voted out of it by the county's residents, and the Attorney General of Nebraska has opened her own investigation.

I flew back and forth to Nebraska a number of times in my own trustworthy plane, but the Mayses and I were permanently reunited when they relocated to Texas in April of 2018. She didn't drive the Berlinetta. She drove her truck with the Camaro buckled down on a flatbed trailer, completing the trip in just shy of fourteen hours with an overnight stop in Oklahoma City.

It required only about two hours for us and a few friends of mine to unload and unpack the belongings they'd brought with them into a modern ranch-style house situated in the Cinco Ranch area of Katy, Texas. It'd been my home since it was built in 2014.

"Chigger" was enrolled in Kindergarten at Jenna Wilson Elementary as Stacie Ellen Carlson in August of 2019.

I didn't want a stepdaughter. I wanted Stacie as my daughter in entirety, so I adopted her as my own two weeks after Brenda and I had said our vows. We were united in matrimony on the Friday after Thanksgiving 2018.

We stood as proud parents, watching from the broad corridor, as our daughter unloaded her school supplies from her backpack into her cubby and bid us an excited, though slightly nervous farewell. Her smiling teacher welcomed her into the classroom.

Brenda almost wept out loud, and I had to force myself to contain my own tears. My wife propped one hand on her gorgeous six-month bump, holding my hand with her other as we walked out of the school.

I drove us from there to Sugar Land. We walked through the doors of what's now named Carlson & Carlson Research, LLC. where we shared a spacious corner suite on the second floor of the 47,000 square-foot building into which we'd recently relocated our expanding firm. I made Brenda a full partner in the business, of course.

Once we poured ourselves cups of decaf, I fetched the wireless motion controller from its dock. The 85" LCD on the wall of the office displayed backgrounders for several potential clients' requests.

My spouse stepped next to me and gave me a playful hip-bump before our Level Fours began to filter in for our Monday senior staff meeting.

"Alrighty, folks, what's next?" I asked the small assembly. There were seven of us in the room.

We evaluated and considered each one in the queue, assigning them to the researcher whose skills matched the specific needs. As the owners, Brenda and I could choose for ourselves whichever struck our fancy.

"Ooh! Me! Me! Me!" Benny yelped humorously when the last one caught his eye. "That one looks challenging."

Brenda trumped him with a grin. "Huh-uh. Dibs. That one's ours."

I opened the folder, and we began our new day.

We Did a Good Thing knits A Walk and this story together, occurring before the Epilogue of this story and the end of A Walk.

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