Welcome To My Family. Roz Fox Denny
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Kat threw herself full-length on the bed and unfolded her resignation letter. “Who’ll this family get to be their spy when I waltz into Kowalski’s office tomorrow and quit?”
This time the dog remained silent. He lay curled on his rug, his eyes closed.
MONDAY, AT EIGHT SHARP, Kat trudged up the nine flights of steps leading to the Flintridge executive suites. Her mind freewheeled over the scene she’d left at home. Pop, bustling around the stove making pancakes and small talk, as if he hadn’t ruined Sunday dinner. How could he miss Mama’s red, puffy eyes? Sighing, Kat charged up the last two flights. And what about Mama? She exhibited a textbook case of passive aggression, if ever Kat had read of one in beginning psychology.
Josh should have been there to witness how many times Pop said things about the church carnival. The man didn’t expect his family to doubt his word. After all, Mama, too, devoted countless hours to organizing food for the carnival. The only thing that drew a bigger crowd from the Hill was a Murphy wake.
Kat considered visiting Father Hanrahan. But that would be like airing the family’s dirty laundry in public. Something O’Hallorans didn’t do. She hoped the frown she’d given Pop on her way out today let her errant father know she wasn’t buying his hypocrisy. That thought was where Kat ran out of stairs.
She entered the reception area and Hazel turned, a perfunctory smile on her lips. “Kathleen,” she exclaimed, the smile now genuine. She reached for an appointment book. “You’re not on today’s calendar. Did you book directly with his nibs? As usual, he forgot to tell me.”
“No. I, ah, something came up over the weekend. Is he in?”
The gray head bobbed. “Poor boy has been here all weekend poring over engine blueprints. The Special left him stranded again. I hope you bring good tidings.” She aimed a worried look at the door marked Private.
Kat fingered the long white envelope containing her resignation, and flushed. “I…guess this can wait.” Folding the letter, she slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans. “So the motor’s still cutting out?” For reasons not quite clear, Kat really hoped Matt’s rumor was wrong. She’d hate to see Slater lose that contract.
“More than cutting out. I overheard Scott say the fuel’s hanging up in the translator conversion system. Melted one of the aluminum cams. Yesterday they installed a new microprocessor and recalibrated the algorithms—if that tells you anything.” She rolled her eyes
Kat did understand, but she shrugged it off. “Think I’ll stick to flying kites. That’s the activity I scheduled for today.”
“You amaze me. Last week a group in the cafeteria were saying you planned to teach kayaking.”
“Um…later probably. When the river’s not so high.”
“Oh. Well, I’m keeping you from your kite-flying.” Hazel reached for the phone’s intercom.
“Hazel, leave the boss to his flow valves and combustion chambers.” Kat backed away. She ran lightly down the single flight of stairs to her office. What did it matter if she quit today or tomorrow? Luckily, she hadn’t left the kites at home.
It occurred to her that Matt had been right about Slater’s engine problems. Maybe she should stay on awhile and do a bit of sleuthing. She’d certainly have the opportunity. Scott Wishynski, Slater’s buddy and chief engineer, showed up for every sport. He remained an unregenerate flirt, and that made him the most likely candidate to let something slip. Kat didn’t care to become part of the rumors floating around Scott, however. Not that he’d put any obvious moves on her—yet. And it stood to reason that if anyone knew whether Pop was being used as a sounding board, it’d be the Special’s primary engineer.
After the cold war at her house this morning, Kat had fewer qualms about pumping Scott. Tucking away the idea for future use, she made multiple trips out to her Isuzu to unload a colorful array of state-of-the-art kites. Sport models, stunt kites and parafoils in the shapes of stars, dragons and shields.
Thankfully the wind was perfect. Kat stuffed the lesson sheets she’d typed into a box of spools. While stringing cord for her morning class, she’d rehearsed how to deal with the ribbing she’d get from the macho machinists.
Kat grinned. She’d heard all the excuses before. A favorite was referring to kite flying as child’s play. Wait’ll these men discovered how much strength it took to fly these babies.
Flying conditions were perfect inside the inner courtyard. The grassy slopes offered the ideal site for liftoff. Plus, the area was free of power lines.
Approaching her SUV for a last load, the very person Kat hoped to see suddenly materialized. “Hey, Scott.” She sidestepped the arm he would have put around her waist. “Lend me your brawn.”
“Everything I have is yours, baby. Brawn, brain and…” Scott leered suggestively.
Oh, brother! The family had better appreciate her efforts.
“Hey, cool,” Scott said when Kat popped the canopy and thrust a large winged glider into his arms. “Wow! When you tell a guy to go fly a kite, you mean it.”
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