Chapter 3
George Macintosh had come to a decision. Eight years ago, when he’d started construction on The Upside, he’d built his own retirement home on the grounds, too. His thoughts at the time were that he was not getting any younger and had still not remarried. After the crash, it appeared as if Ivy would remain grief-stricken forever, so he did what he had to do and arranged to live at the prestigious adult retirement community. Now, at age sixty-six, he was ready to retire from the airline business and enjoy the fruits of his labor, at least to some extent. He was in relatively good health and could have remained in the house that he’d built when he and Elizabeth were newly married, the house in which he had raised Ivy, but he wanted something new, something without the memories. He’d even considered asking Margaret, the woman he’d dated for the past thirteen years, ever since Ivy had married John Fine, to move in with him, but Ivy would completely disown him if he did. Not that she did not like Margaret, because she did.
However, George knew that his daughter, in a roundabout way, blamed Margaret for the death of her family in that airplane crash. Margaret’s son, Mark, had been the one piloting the plane whose tumble from the sky had ruined Ivy’s life. Add the fact that the NTSB had ruled that the accident was the result of pilot error, and he could only imagine how Ivy would react if he asked Margaret to move in with him.
Ivy had told him numerous times that the only reason Macintosh Air had hired Mark was because of his connection with Margaret. Though George had not had anything to do with hiring Mark—any more than he played a role in hiring any of the pilots, copilots, flight attendants, mechanics, and the like—in Ivy’s mind, he was responsible just by virtue of his connection to Margaret. Mark had been extremely well qualified, a fact that was splashed across the news for months after the crash. Some had speculated that he’d been drinking, as Mark was known to be a party animal when off duty. There had been no evidence to verify or disprove this accusation, and there was no evidence to suggest that he had been partying before he was scheduled to pilot the plane. George chose to believe that something horrible had happened in the cockpit, something that Mark and his copilot, Gary Frudell, had not been able to control.
Personally, he’d never ruled out an act of terrorism; though, again, none of the known terror groups claimed responsibility. But the thought had always lingered in the back of his mind. Three days before the crash, four members on the terrorist watch list had been spied at Charlotte Douglas International Airport. Two were arrested on various charges, and the other two remained unaccounted for, to this day. He believed they were on the flight that killed his son-in-law and grandchildren. No remains were found, so this theory, like the others, could never be proved, but it’s what he truly believed.
He had tried telling this to Ivy, but she would not listen. Once the NTSB labeled it pilot error, she had never considered another possibility. He understood that she needed someone or something to blame. She had lost everything, and while he understood the loss of a spouse, he could not in his wildest dreams imagine what it would be like to lose a child. And Ivy had lost two children, as well as her husband.
Though he knew better than most that there was no time limit on grief, he also knew one had to go on, move forward, and do one’s best to make the most of the life one had left. He’d tried; and on most days, he thought he’d been fairly successful. But now, he felt lower than low because he was about to issue Ivy an ultimatum. He did not want to, did not relish the idea of causing any unnecessary hurt to his daughter, but as her father, he had to do this. If she turned against him, he would find some way to deal with that, too, but he had to start sometime. He thought of the old saying: There is no time like the present.
He reached for his cell phone and dialed Ivy’s cell number because she rarely, if ever, answered her landline. He looked at the clock. Half past seven, so she should still be awake.
She answered on the sixth ring. Her words were slurred. “Hal . . . oh?”
“Ivy? Are you all right?”
Silence.
“Ivy?” He raised his voice several octaves.
“What?” she finally responded, though her words were sluggish.
George realized that Ivy had been drinking again, so he’d have to postpone what he’d planned to tell her. He’d have to visit her, and it broke his heart every time he saw her, saw how she had let herself go.
“I’m coming over in the morning, Ivy. Something has come up, and we need to discuss it ASAP, and I will not take no for an answer.”
“Really?” she singsonged in her drunken voice.
Even though she was no longer a child, but rather a thirty-six–year-old woman, he still felt responsible for her. You never stopped being a parent just because your child reached adulthood. If anything, being the parent of an adult child was tougher because you had no real control.
“And I wish you would lay off the alcohol, Ivy. Really.” He put extra emphasis on the last word.
Another period of silence.
“I’m going to hang up now. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning. It’s important.” He hung up and did not wait for her reply.
He had to help her see that her life was not over. Yes, she had suffered one of the worst blows life could deliver, but she could not spend the rest of her life holed up in her house drowning her sorrows in booze and self-pity.
With renewed determination to help Ivy want to live again, he decided he really would give her an ultimatum. Come back to work or not. And if all worked as he’d like, she would take over the airline that had destroyed her life. If not, then his plan to sell it would proceed. They both needed a change.