Not What It Seems (Escape to Alaska Trilogy)
delay. She stowed her bag in the overhead compartment, crawled across the passenger seated on the aisle, and flopped into the window seat. Two seats over across the aisle a baby wailed, and a young mother groped in her bag for a bottle. Soon the nursing infant quieted.
    One of the flight attendants quickly recited final passenger instructions, and five minutes later the plane lifted off. Cassidy sighed in relief, leaned back and closed her eyes.
    Sheila Graham, she thought, I owe you big time.
    ****
     
     
    Hours later, Cassidy shifted in the aircraft’s uncomfortable seat—she never flew coach, but desperate times called for desperate measures—and stared out through the small window into ebony oblivion. She glanced at her watch; the illuminated dial indicated two o’clock in the morning. What sane person travelled at this ungodly hour? The engines droned, and several passengers snored softly. She propped her elbow on the narrow window ledge and rested her chin in her hand.
    A small pocket of air turbulence briefly vibrated the plane, and simmering anger created similar turbulence in Cassidy’s mind. In hindsight, she should have foreseen what happened. All the signs were there: her father’s insistence that she date Jonathan, his reluctance to praise her efforts or recognize her ambition, and his stubborn resolve that his actions and decisions were always meant in her best interest. After her father’s betrayal, she’d plotted her escape and incorporated painstaking precautions to avoid detection. Never again would she live or work under Theodore Donahue’s reign. Her careful planning during the past few days culminated with the successful escapade at the airport.
    But would anyone, especially her father, discover her whereabouts?
    “Please pass me your empty glasses, ladies, and fold your tables up. We’ll be landing in a few minutes.” Stacked glasses and bottles atop the trolley tinkled against each other as the stewardess moved farther down the aisle.
    Cassidy straightened in her seat. The stuffy re-circulated air in the confined space and her seatmate’s floral perfume intensified her tension headache.
    “What brings you to Anchorage?” asked her seatmate, while they returned their tables to the pre-flight position.
    The woman had buried her nose in a Nora Roberts romance novel since takeoff, and Cassidy had appreciated the thoughtfulness. Now, the sudden question grated on her nerves.
    “Relocating.” Cassidy hoped the brusque answer discouraged further conversation.
    Some people couldn’t take a hint.
    “Visited Alaska before?” An expectant smile creased the stranger’s face while her eyes unabashedly roamed over Cassidy’s designer suit.
    “No. First time.” Cassidy fiddled with the diamond stud in her left ear. She silently chastised herself for wearing work clothes for the flight. In hindsight, ripped jeans, oversized hoodie, and a well-worn pair of sneakers might have drawn less attention. But then again, the corporate-change-of-plans story wouldn’t have rung true.
    “You will either love Alaska or you will hate it. No middle ground in the north.” The woman settled back in her seat and crossed her slim legs at the knee—not an easy feat in these close quarters. “Acquired a new job?”
    “No.” Cassidy admired the woman’s linen dress splashed with a tropical leaf design, three-inch olive-green leather pumps, and poker-straight shoulder-length hair kissed with blonde highlights. Noticing the woman’s pink-polished artificial nails, Cassidy’s eyes dropped to her own polish-chipped gel nails. She desperately required a fill. First item on her to-do list—find a new manicurist.
    “Do you have family in Anchorage?” The inquisitor exuded confidence and total relaxation. Cassidy speculated that perhaps the woman worked as a corporate executive secretary, accustomed to flying as a job requirement. In contrast, no matter how frequently she flew either for business or pleasure,

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