Come Fly With Me (16 page)

“So
Allison,
if
you
would,
please
explain
why
Martin
Ross
only
joined
the
family
business
three
years
ago?”
Alexander
asked.

“You
said
you
had
urgent
business
to
discuss.
Family
politics
doesn't
fall
under
that
category.”

“It
does
when
it
can
affect
the
business
I’m
about
to
run,”
he
said
this
lightly,
but
she
noted
the
firm
set
of
his
mouth.

“
I
will
decide
who
runs
this
company,"
she
said,
"and
I
don’t
appreciate
being
bullied
into
a
decision.”

He
hesitated
as
he
reached
for
his
wine
goblet.
“Where
I
grew
up,
we
call
it
confidence.
A
real
gentleman
would
never
coerce
a
female
into
a
decision
for
which
she
wasn’t
ready.
I
apologize
if
I
have
overstepped.”

That
threw
her
off-guard.
Most
men
didn't
admit
when
they
were
wrong.
She
softened
her
tone
a
little
and
relented.
“Well,
first
off,
it
isn’t
technically
a
family-run
business.
One
afternoon
when
my
father
was
home
from
college,
he
stumbled
across
my
grandfather's
drawings
and
formula
for
a
GPS
avionic
system
that
is
widely
used
in
many
of
today's
private
jets."
She
twirled
her
water
goblet
as
she
spoke.
"He
urged
my
Zeidy
to
apply
for
a
patent
and
sell
the
prototype.
When
he
refused,
my
father
went
behind
his
back."

Alex
jumped
in,
"I
would
assume
that
didn't
go
over
very
well."

She
shrugged,
"Well,
my
father
has,"
her
voice
cracked,
"had
this
way
of
barreling
over
people,
but
a
couple
of
years
later,
he
presented
Zeidy
with
a
check.
He
wasn’t
a
man
of
means
and
said
he
would
have
no
idea
how
to
use
the
money—
he
handed
it
right
back."

"I'm
assuming
your
father
knew
what
to
do
with
it."

"Yes
sir,
he
bought
them
a
vacation
house
in
Maine
and
used
the
rest
as
start-up
capital
for
RossAir
Industries.”

“But
your
grandfather
served
on
the
board?”
Alex
asked.

She
nodded,
"He
was
the
chief
technical
advisor—he
was
a
brilliant
man.”

“So,
what
about
Martin?”
Alex
pushed.

“That
story
is
a
little
complex
and
soap-operish,
but
here’s
the
gist.
Uncle
Martin
married
a
shiksa."

"What's
that?"

"Sorry,
forgot
you're
not
a
New
Yorker.
She
wasn't
Jewish,
and
although
my
Zeidy
was
only
moderately
religious
himself,
he
disowned
Martin."

"That's
tough."

"Not
if
you
get
where
he
came
from.
Zeidy
had
fought
in
World
War
II
and
witnessed
the
atrocities
of
the
Germans
first-hand.
After
the
war,
he
married
my
Bubby,
and
Martin
was
born
a
year
later.
Zeidy
felt
vindicated
that
he'd
brought
a
new
Jewish
life
into
the
world."
She
shuddered,
"But
nothing
erased
the
haunting
memories
of
what
he'd
seen."

She
took
a
bite
of
her
veal
scaloppini
as
she
remembered
her
Zeidy;
he
was
always
hunched
over
art
and
history
books
as
he
tried
to
fill
his
curiosity
about
all
the
things
he
never
had
the
chance
to
learn
about
since
he'd
grown
up
during
the
Depression.

"Did
your
Bubby
object?"

"She
wasn't
fully
on
board
with
it;
but
I
think
she
felt
betrayed
too."
Allison
paused
as
she
realized
that
Alex
has
drawn
the
family
politics
out
of
her
easily.
It
would
serve
her
well
to
remember
that
next
time.

"But
I'm
not
really
getting
it,"
he
said
as
he
waved
his
ziti
noodle
at
her.
"The
wife
wasn't
Jewish,
get
over
it,"
he
said.

She
didn't
want
to
continue,
but
the
story
was
half-told,
so
she
plunged
ahead.
"Not
so
fast,"
she
wagged
her
finger.
"You
see,
according
to
Jewish
Law,
only
a
child
born
to
a
Jewish
mother
is
considered
a
Jew.
My
Zeidy
couldn’t
bear
to
see
Martin
marry
a
Gentile
woman
and
have
the
generation
die
out
with
their
children.
It
was
the
ultimate
betrayal
to
him."

"I
can
see
his
point."

She
sipped
her
water.
"He
was
so
gentle—it
devastated
him
to
take
such
a
strong
stand.
But
if
every
male
married
out
of
his
religion,
the
entire
race
would
disappear
in
a
few
generations,
and
the
Germans
would
have
won."
Her
eyes
welled
with
tears.
"When
Zeidy
died
three
years
ago,
my
Bubby
called
up
Martin
and
told
him
to
attend
the
funeral."