Just This Once (4 page)

“Listen, I’ll call you at T minus 10 minutes to see if you’ve heard anything.” Once the countdown was begun, it was always possible — likely even — that the NASA ground crew would build in a few holds for specific purposes, so the launch didn’t always go off at exactly the designated moment. “Gotta run! Give Dad a hug for me, okay?...Yeah, I’ll see you all Saturday.”

———

Wynne opened the cover of the report that detailed the market research on co-branding the travel agency with the tour company. The findings were another nail in the coffin for the old guard at Gone Tomorrow Tours. Low name recognition made it less likely that Eldon-Markoff would preserve that brand; rather, they would incorporate it under their own moniker. At least that’s what she would do if the decision were hers.

“How was lunch?” Cheryl Williams dropped her leather folder onto the conference table, ready for the afternoon’s work. At 47, her collar-length brown hair was sprinkled with gray, and her small frame caused many to underestimate her toughness.

“It was fine, thank you. I feel a little guilty about enjoying your weather so much when I know that Baltimore got seven inches of new snow last night.” Wynne had bought a sandwich at the deli down the street and sat outside on a bench in Eldon-Markoff’s courtyard.

“Don’t sweat it. Somebody in Baltimore probably deserved it,” the vice president quipped. “I saw you outside. You know, you’re welcome to have lunch in the executive dining room on the top floor any time you like.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll save that one for a rainy day.”

Cheryl checked the door and pulled her chair close to Wynne’s. “Listen, I wanted to let you know how much I value your input on this plan. You’ve obviously worked very hard at Gone Tomorrow, and you have a real nose for this stuff.”

Both women looked up as Doug returned from lunch and took his seat on the opposite side of the table. Wynne sensed that Cheryl wanted to say more, but Doug’s arrival squelched any further personal talk.

“Shall we resume?”

———

The staff at the WR knew that this night was special for Paula, and all were willing to do whatever it took to free her up for the next hour or so. She was an understanding boss when one of them had an emergency or needed to leave early. As a supervisor, Paula McKenzie was demanding, but she was always fair and even-tempered. In her nine years at the WR, she had fired only a handful of workers, and no one disputed her judgment on those.

Paula caught the updated coverage on CNN as she grabbed her coat, cell phone, and walkie-talkie. The launch was on, T minus 22 minutes.

Wynne Connelly relaxed with a news magazine in the Concierge lounge, weary from an afternoon of deflecting Doug’s objections to everything that threatened his operation in Dallas. The young man was less concerned with what was good for the overall company — not to mention the stockholders, as it was publicly traded — than he was about preserving his own turf, and that was making their work more difficult than it had to be.

She didn’t know how she was going to deal with one obstacle after another from him for the next 10 weeks.

“Hi.”

Wynne was startled to see Paula McKenzie standing right in front of her. She’d been so lost in thought that she hadn’t even seen her approach.

“Hi, Paula…I mean Ms. McKenzie,” she stammered. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be so familiar.”

The blonde woman chuckled. “Paula’s fine. In fact, I’d prefer it.”

“Well, then, in that case, please call me Wynne.”

“Oh, I don’t think I can do that. It…wouldn’t sound very professional to the other guests. Besides, all my staff would have coronaries on the spot,” she grinned.

“I guess they’re used to the formality.”

“I should hope so. Listen, I stopped by to see if anyone in the lounge would be interested in going up to the roof to watch the shuttle launch. It’s a great view, and it’s going up in about 15 minutes.”

“Wow, I’d love to,” Wynne enthused. She’d just been reading about America’s return to space.

“Great! You should get your coat and meet me right back here so we can go up together. I’m going to see if any of these other folks want to join us.”

Secretly, Wynne hoped they’d all say no, but it was not to be. Only three minutes later, Paula was leading a line of six up two flights of stairs to a locked door on the roof.

When they started up the steps, Paula looked back to see the woman grasp the rail to pull herself up, always leading with her right leg. She had stupidly forgotten about Wynne Connelly’s limp, not thinking what a hardship it might be, and was relieved that one of the businessmen had stayed back to help.

When they emerged through the door at the top of the stairs, Paula explained jovially that they were not insured for falling off the roof or through the skylights, but there was room to sit on the various three-foot-high block walls that surrounded the massive air conditioner units. Accordingly, the five other guests broke out into the same clusters they were in when she found them in the lounge, leaving her standing alone with the tall woman from Baltimore.

“Why don’t we sit over there?” She gestured to an empty wall and both women began to walk. “I need to call my mother to see if it’s still a go.” Stepping away for a moment, Paula quickly placed her call and confirmed a six minute hold. Atlantis would launch in 12 minutes.

“Your mom follows the launches too?”

“We all do. My dad works for NASA. He’s there tonight at the Cape. I’m sure they’re all holding their breath right about now.”

“What does he do?”

“He helps put together the press kits, and he briefs reporters on the technical aspects of the launch. He’s been there through the whole shuttle program.”

“Wow, it must have been exciting growing up with all that.”

“It was. We’re all space junkies.”

“So you’re from Florida? I didn’t know anyone was actually from here,” Wynne joked.

“There aren’t many of us, I’ll say that. Now the shuttle’s going to launch right over there,” she explained, pointing to a spot on the southeast horizon. “I grew up just to the right of that pad, in Cocoa Beach.”

“So I bet you’ve seen a lot of these.”

“Eighty-eight, to be exact. This is number 113 for the shuttles, so I’ve actually missed about 25 of them. But if you add in all the rocket launches, I’ve seen about 200.”

“You’re kidding!”

“No, that’s what space junkies do.”

“Have you ever gotten really close?”

“Yeah, I’ve been to the press site a few times, but it’s not a bad view from the beach at Cocoa. That’s where my friends and I would go.”

“And how many launches have you seen from up here?”

“About 20 or 30. But night launches aren’t all that common.”

“Well, then I really lucked out, not just because I’m here in Orlando to see it, but I have my very own expert right here with me.”

“I’m no expert, but I like being close to it.” Paula chided herself inwardly for liking the idea of being Wynne Connelly’s very own anything. “Have you always lived in Baltimore?”

“Always.” Wynne didn’t mean to groan when she said that, but it still came out that way.

“Sounds like there’s a story in there somewhere,” the blonde woman kidded.

“No, there’s not really a story. But sometimes I feel like I’ve gotten too settled there, like I might be missing out on something because I stayed close to home.”
And maybe if I left, the other Connelly women would be forced to take care of themselves. At least I wouldn’t have to
.

“You mean career-wise?”

“That’s a lot of it. Now that Eldon-Markoff’s bought up our company, I doubt my marketing role will get any bigger. In fact, if things keep going in the direction they’re headed, I could be out of a job before too long.”

“What would you do?”

“I’m not sure,” Wynne answered honestly. “But maybe that’s what I’d need: a good excuse to move out of Baltimore. And maybe I’d push myself to do something careerwise other than just go to work every day.”

“Somehow you don’t strike me as the kind of person that just mails it in.” On the contrary, Paula got the impression that Wynne Connelly was a lot like her when it came to that old-fashioned Puritan work ethic.

“No, I wouldn’t say that I did that. I guess I’d like to do more, though. And I don’t think that’s going to happen if I limit myself to Baltimore.”

“Yeah, I can relate to that. I’ve passed up a few chances to move up over the years because I didn’t want to leave Orlando. But if I’m ever going to break into daytime management, that’s what it’s going to take.”

“So you really like it here?”

“Oh yeah. I mean Orlando’s okay. It’s a pretty quick shot over to the beach. But what I really like about this place is this hotel. If I had to name my ideal job, it would be running this hotel.”

“Well, from what I can see, I’d say you’re already doing that,” Wynne offered, “and you’re doing it very well.”

“Thanks, but I’m only helping to hold down the fort at night. I don’t get to make the real decisions that affect how things are done. But that’s my goal, and like I said, I’ll probably have to relocate if I’m ever going to see it.”

“Who knows? Maybe things will work out.”

“Maybe…but I’m not holding my breath,” Paula lamented. “Hey guys, two minutes!”

The women settled back in anticipation of the spectacular show, each glad for this occasion to get to know a little about the other. Though their jobs were very different, it was interesting to realize how much they had in common, at least from a career standpoint. It was nice to think they might be able to forge a friendship, even if it fell away when Wynne’s work in Orlando was done.

“There it is!” Paula shouted, pointing to an orange glow on the dark horizon. A bright yellow burst slowly became a towering stream that arced across the night sky.

“Wow!” That was all that Wynne could articulate.

“Yeah, pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

“Wow!” The woman from Baltimore had never grasped the reality of the space program until just this minute. Sure, she’d read the news, especially the coverage of the disasters, but seeing that trail of fire gave it a personal meaning she’d never felt before.

In less than three minutes, it was gone, the glowing orange vapor trail its only visible remnants.

“That was one of the most magnificent things I’ve ever seen,” Wynne gushed with obvious emotion. “I mean, it was almost surreal thinking about those seven astronauts riding on the top of all that fire. I just…I don’t know, it’s like I just kept thinking about the people in it.”

“That’s the same way I see it, and the way most of the folks at NASA see it.” Paula was both astounded and pleased to see Wynne so moved by the experience. Most people never looked past the thunderous rocket to see the humanity, which was to Paula and her family the heart and soul of the space program.

Wynne laid her hand on the shoulder of her new friend. “Paula, I can’t thank you enough for bringing me up here tonight. I’m going to remember this for a very long time.”

“I’m really glad you were here. Not many people get it like you did, you know, that it’s not just a bunch of technology strapped onto a giant Roman candle.”

“Well surely after the Challenger and Columbia, people can see past all that.”

“They do for a while, but then they start to take it all for granted again. Believe me, that never happens at our house.”

“I don’t think it’s ever going to happen again at mine,” Wynne said sincerely. “Really, thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome,” Paula answered smiling. “Well I, uh…suppose I should be getting back to work.” What she really wanted to do was sit up here on the roof for a few hours and learn all about this woman from Baltimore.

“That’s too bad. It would be nice if we could just go have a drink.” It was a bold statement and Wynne knew it, but she had an inkling that Paula would be receptive, at least to the idea of talking more; but the point was obviously moot, as she was on duty.

“I really wish I could.” The hotel manager meant that and more.
You probably wouldn’t ask if you knew what I really wanted
. “Maybe it’ll work out sometime so that we can.”

The men had started to gravitate toward the top of the stairs, waiting for their escort to unlock the door.

“So why do you keep this door locked?” a man asked jokingly.

“Aliens,” Paula deadpanned. “We’ve had a real problem with them coming in this way. They slip into the Concierge lounge and load up on the hors d’oeuvres,” she continued, “sometimes they walk out with six plates, one in each hand.”

———

Wynne stepped out of the bath, wrapping up at once in a large fluffy towel. Her leg and hip felt wonderfully relaxed, and if she went right to bed, she probably wouldn’t even need to take the usual ibuprofen.

It would be great to have a tub like this one at home, she thought, but neither of the bathrooms in her small two-bedroom townhouse would accommodate a tub that large.

Too bad, though. It was funny that she slept better here in a hotel than she did in her own home. Then again, there was nothing funny about that at all, she thought dismally.

Wynne had called home before her bath to check in and to report her excitement about witnessing the launch. Her mom seemed to be managing fine on her own this trip, as Janelle had been able to stop by and look in.

As she readied for bed, the tall woman’s thoughts turned back to her evening on the roof with Paula McKenzie. There were many things about the night shift manager that were overtly attractive: she was undeniably pretty, with her long blonde hair, bright green eyes, and petite figure; and she carried herself with an air of authority that, for Wynne, was almost irresistible. Too few women that she knew had that trait — Cheryl Williams was certainly an exception. Wynne not only admired it, but wanted too to emulate it.

But there was something about Paula McKenzie that was not overt, something that beckoned Wynne’s attention right away in a way she hadn’t felt since her last crush almost eight years ago. Interestingly, that had been yet another strong independent woman: Marlene Cox, the owner of Gone Tomorrow Tours. Over time, that crush ran its course and dissipated, thanks in no small sum to the looming reminder of Marlene’s husband. There was nothing to be gained from pining for a happily married straight woman.