CHAPTER TWO
THE TINY PLANE with only one seat on each side of the aisle dipped forward, and no matter how quickly Daniel Franklin grabbed at his armrest, he still slammed into the seat in front of him. It probably had something to do with the mere breath of space between his kneecaps and the back of the blue chair. "Sorry," he managed to mumble after the older woman in said seat groaned.
"Looks like we have a little bit of turbulence out there, folks." The captain came over the intercom, sounding far too relaxed for someone in charge of a plane that was bouncing around like it wanted to drop out of the sky. "I'm turning on the Fasten Seat Belt sign a few minutes early, but we'll be landing soon."
The lone flight attendant did an unsteady dance down the aisle, collecting trash. After handing her his empty plastic cup, Daniel turned to the window and stared hard at the thick gray clouds that enveloped the plane. The wing sliced easily through them, and a few moments later, they broke free.
Everything beneath them was blue, peppered with the occasional whitecapped wave. And in the distance, the island. It was more white than famous red shoreline this time of year, and he scowled.
"She's beautiful, isn't she?"
He glanced over his shoulder at the flight attendant, who had stopped by his seat, her eyes fixed on the island below. Her question had most likely been rhetorical, but he couldn't help spitting out the truth. "I like her better when she's warm." At least, he had enjoyed summers on the island with his aunt Aretha when he was a kid.
"Oh? Not a fan of the cold?"
He wasn't really a fan of anything these days. But given the little green wreaths dangling from her ears, he had a feeling she might not appreciate that response. So he offered her a shrug before turning back to watch the island draw nearer. From his angle, he could see some of the Confederation Bridge—the thirteen-kilometer wonder that connected Prince Edward Island to the mainland. He'd been enamored with it as a kid, begging his dad to drive them over it.
It was still impressive, the way it broke up the ice flowing through the strait below. But it wasn't enough to keep his attention anymore.
As he bounced and jostled—even with his seat belt on—he turned back to the spreadsheets neatly stacked on the tray table before him. Rows and columns, formulas and equations. Spreadsheets made sense. Every time. And if they didn't, it was because there was a mistake.
Rooting out those errors made sense. Numbers made sense. Even the documents that Aunt Aretha had sent over in advance.
Sure, it was clear that the books had been done by someone who loved the antiques more than the business part of her store. But she'd used the online accounting system he'd set her up with a few years before, and he could get her squared away long before the holidays arrived.
Then he could go back to his apartment in Toronto and spend Christmas much like he'd spent Thanksgiving. Just him and Chinese takeout.
As he liked it.
The flight attendant returned to his side, her hand on the back of his chair and her smile brighter than it needed to be. "Can you put your tray table up, please? We're about to land."
He grunted but quickly did as she asked, tucking the loose papers into an accordion folder, flipping up the tray, and locking it into place.
The wattage on her smile doubled before she sashayed back toward the cockpit.
Daniel closed his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited for the wheels to touch down.
They landed with a few bumps and then taxied toward the airport. The runway was clear, if wet, and the fenced pastures along the far side of the runway were empty except for a foot of snow. He shivered despite the jacket covering his long-sleeve button-up.
The chill only got worse as he marched out of the plane and down the steps. Risking a steadying grasp of the metal handrail, he recoiled and shoved his hand into his pocket, then readjusted his shoulder bag as he hunched against the wind.
By the time he made it across the tarmac and through the sliding doors into the building, his nose had gone numb and his eyebrows seemed to have frozen in place.
Toronto was chilly, but the island had a cold all its own. And if the Weather Channel was to be believed, he could expect plenty more snow in the next month.
That was what PEI did in the winter. It got cold, and it snowed.
Only his aunt Aretha could have convinced him to visit at this time of year.
