Back to the Beginning

 

After flying for 4 years, I packed my bags and moved from one coast to the other.  Like most major decisions in my life, I hadn't thought through all the details. I knew I loved San Francisco and I knew that I had become somewhat stagnant in Orlando. So, as far as I could tell, it was time to move.

I don't regret my eighteen-month adventure in perhaps the quirkiest city on earth. Although I ended up someplace vastly different (never thought I'd buy a house in the Lone Star State, yet here I am, typing these words from the living room of my Dallas home), I'm so thankful for my time in NorCal. Everyone there was from someplace far away, it seemed. They all had wild dreams that they'd chosen to pursue in spite of the daunting statistics, and/or parental advice, and/or basic logic & reasoning.

Callie Schnieder, the heroine of my 13th novel, is a hopeless daydreamer who loves SF as much as I do. This starry-eyed flight attendant has a passion for writing and a tendency to make friends everywhere she goes. The excerpt below describes her transcontinental flight with a coworker destined to become one of her favorite people at SkyLine. 

Xoxo,

Lisa

Chapter 2: OCTOBER 29

              “You’ve been doing this three years, right?” Zack asked. He leaned against the galley sink, his thick black hair nearly grazing the airplane’s ceiling.

              I pulled the remaining pretzels from the cabinet. “Three years and three months. You?”

              “Five,” he said.  A yawn escaped his lips, and I fought the impulse to join him.

              “Isn’t it addicting?” I asked as I peeked down the aisle. Shawna, the girl flying in the back of the plane, hadn’t even begun her trek toward the front galley. Which was fine; we had plenty of time to complete our service. The flight from San Francisco to West Palm Beach was blocked at nearly six hours, thanks to a massive headwind.

              “Girl, you’re not kidding.” Zack grabbed my elbow, pulling my face toward his. His eyelashes were long and thick, framed by black-rimmed Prada glasses.

              “It’s unbelievable,” I agreed. “They pay us to jet across the country. And spend 24 hours in fun cities like West Palm.”

              “Mm-hmm,” Zack agreed. “We’re spoiled…”

              “Spoiled rotten,” I mused.

              Zack smiled and reached for his apron. “I fell into this career by accident, but I plan to stay as long as possible.”

              Shawna nudged my shoulder, startling me. I hadn’t even noticed her approaching the galley. Her wavy hair tumbled over her shoulders, every strand perfectly in place. Her lips were a bold red shade that matched her scarf.

“Hey y’all,” Shawna said in a thick Texas accent. She placed a hand on my shoulder, her bracelets jingling as they collided with each other. “Shoot, it’s only day one and I’m already tired.”

“Me too,” I reflected. “I should’ve come home earlier last night. But the neighbors were having a housewarming party. Stayed up way past my bedtime.”

Zack shook his head. “You did the right thing, girlfriend. You live in San Francisco. Might as well enjoy it.”

“I agree,” Shawna said with a laugh. “Ok, let’s get this done quick so we can relax. There’s an empty row in the back of the plane. And I found a few trashy magazines in the cubby.”

              I grabbed the drink cart and headed into the aisle.

***

              “You coming to the back with me, honey?” Shawna asked once we finished our beverage service.

              I glanced at the galley, where Zack had scattered liquor minis and half-empty soda cans. “In a couple minutes. I’ll help Zack clean up first.”

              “Alright,” Shawna said as she headed toward the back of the plane. “I’ll be in the last row.”

              While Zack was reorganizing the liquor kit, I grabbed a few soda cans and emptied them in the garbage.

              “Thanks for helping,” he said, rearranging the minis so they lined up in neat little rows.

              I nodded. “No problem. We’ve got three more hours to kill anyway.”

              “True. Hey, I think we’ve flown together before,” Zack commented, shuffling two bottles of Bombay Sapphire. “You look familiar.”

“Yep. I flew with you when I was brand new at the airline,” I informed him. “Shoot, I was so nervous that I almost threw up.  You told filthy jokes until I cracked a smile. Truly disgusting. One was about a Dirty Sanchez, which I had to look up online.”

Zack chuckled. “Sounds like something I would do. Where did we fly?”

“I think we had double JFK layovers. They were short but fun.”

Zack zipped up the liquor kit and returned it to the proper cabinet. “Good. So, tell me about yourself, Miss Callie.”

              “What would you like to know?” I asked while emptying a Sprite can. A tiny spray of soda shot out of the garbage bin, splattering across the floor. I threw down a few paper towels to soak up the spill.

              “Everything. Have you been in San Francisco a long time?” he asked.

              I tilted my head to the side. “Coming up on three years, actually. I was living in Central Florida but I came to SF after I got this job, and never really looked back.”

              “So you like it in California?”

              “Love it. Where do you live?”

              “Portland,” Zack said with a frown. “I plan to move soon, though. Maybe Los Angeles? I’m tired of commuting.”

“I bet. Commuting is for the birds,” I noted, scrunching up my face. “I commuted for a couple months when I first started at SkyLine, and then I swore I would never do it again.”

              “Do you miss Florida?”

“Sometimes. But I’m much happier now. I seriously love the Bay Area. There’s this artistic, daydreamer side to the city that I’ll never get sick of. San Francisco is so...alive.”

              “I can see that,” Zack agreed. “So you’re from Florida?”

              “Boston, actually. That’s where I grew up. But I went to the University of Florida and then basically hopped all over the country. I tried everything, Zack. Taught high school for a year in Austin. Wrote poetry and short stories in Trinidad. Worked for a bank in Phoenix. Ended up back in Florida, in Jacksonville and then Orlando. I was bartending and trying to get my books published...which never happened, obviously. And then I got hired here.”

              “You have such a gypsy heart, Cal,” Zack said, his eyes shining brightly. “I love that.”

He plopped down on the jumpseat and crossed his legs.

              “Mmm. Maybe I’m just impulsive! Or indecisive.”

“More like brave, Callie,” Zack told me, sitting up a little straighter. “Most people don’t have the balls to uproot their whole lives and try something new. So they stay in the same town, working the same job, surrounded by the same people. And they become more miserable every day.”

              “There’s probably some truth to that,” I reflected. “You know, people have always told me I’m a dreamer. I couldn’t figure out if it was a compliment or not! But you make it sound like a good thing.”

              “Are you dating anyone?” Zack asked, shifting gears rather abruptly.

“Nope,” I said. “To be honest, I’m glad I’m not tied down…most of my friends are getting married and it feels like a torture chamber. Or a pressure cooker, maybe? They’re excited about toaster ovens and curtains. It’s the stupidest shit, Zack. I couldn’t care less.”

“But being in love is the best…” Zack murmured. “My ex and I were together for four years. I was so sure I’d marry him.”

              “Shoot. What happened?” I asked. The airplane took a sudden dip, and the seatbelt sign came on. I grabbed a seat beside Zack in anticipation of turbulence.

“Oh, you know. Life happened,” Zack said. He buckled his seatbelt.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok. I love him like crazy. But it’s a big world. And there’s lots of other boys out there,” Zack said with a half-smile. “I’ll find one. Maybe in West Palm Beach tonight. Who knows? Anything’s possible.“

“Hmm. Guess so.”

“You’re coming downtown with me, right? Don’t be a slam-clicker! I might need a wing-woman,” Zack told me.

I nodded. “Sure. I’ll go downtown with you. Why not? What do we have to lose?”

Zack grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

Coming Clean

When I lived in San Francisco, Monday was my favorite day of the week because I usually performed at open mic night in SoMa. Sometimes I rehearsed beforehand, tweaking my performance as much as I could; other times, I simply went on stage and winged it. 

My voice isn't perfect and I play guitar like a (beginner-level) elementary school kid, but I've loved writing songs my whole life. During my year in Northern California, I filled journal after journal filled with lyrics. There was certainly no lack of inspiration in San Francisco.

Callie has been out of the loop for a while, due to some intense and unexpected circumstances in her life. She's missed a few open mic nights...and she's about to miss a whole lot more, for reasons she hasn't fully been able to explain.

Until now.

Xoxo,

Lisa

Chapter 15: JANUARY 4

             How’s your day off? Andrew texts while I’m walking up Geary Street.

Good, I say, dodging the crowd already gathered in front of The Fillmore. How’s work coming along?

It’s fine. Are you free tonight? I can call you once I get home, he offers. Would love to hear your voice.

I stare at the intersection of Geary and Webster, trying to judge whether traffic is light enough for me to jaywalk. Meeting an old friend for lunch, I text before darting across the street. But I’ll be home after that. Feel free to call whenever.

Thanks, Cal. Will do.

I duck inside the world’s smallest Japanese restaurant, the first place I ate at when I moved to SF four years ago. There are only a few tables in the restaurant. Luckily for me, one happens to be empty. I weave around customers to reach the vacant table.

My friend Trevor walks in just as I’m taking off my coat and setting it on the chair beside me. He smiles, strolling toward the table.

“Hey Callie,” he greets me with a hug. “Man, it’s been a long time. We missed you at Hotel Utah last week. Frankie played one of her new songs, which was great. And this guy I’ve never seen before did slam poetry. To be honest, I was skeptical. He wasn’t bad, though.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Sorry I missed it. God, I haven’t been to SoMa in forever.”

“Have you written any songs lately? Any new material for me to learn?” Trevor asks.

“You’re such a good sport, memorizing all those chords and standing in as my guitarist,” I note. “How many years has it been? Three? I never would’ve done open mic night without your help. I have no problem singing in public, but I sure as hell won’t play guitar in front of a crowd. I suck so much.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Trevor says skeptically. The waitress comes by for our drink order, and we both get green tea. I order brussels sprouts for an appetizer, my stomach rumbling so loudly that I’m sure people across the street can hear it.

“I actually have some news,” I tell him. “Most of my girlfriends already know, but I haven’t had a chance to tell any of my musical buddies yet. I’m moving back to Florida at the end of the month.”

Trevor’s jaw drops. “Really? Back to Orlando?”

I shake my head. “Actually, this time I’m trying Fort Lauderdale. It was a sudden decision. I plan to be in Florida for a year or less. I just needed a change.”

“Why?”

“It’s hard to explain. I keep inching closer to 30,” I say with a shrug. “Not that 30 is old, but I’d hoped to be published by now. I want to pursue my writing and grow and learn and get better every day.”

“Can’t you do all that in SF?” he asks.

I pause. Outside, the sun is beginning to peek through the thick clouds. Tiny golden fingers reach down from the sky. This might be the only time all day the bright yellow orb makes an appearance. Through the restaurant’s oversized windows, I can see pedestrians unzipping their jackets and taking off their scarves, hats, gloves.

“There’s more to the story,” I confess before my brain can register what my mouth is saying. “Yes, I do want to work on my writing. Always have. But there’s something else…”

    

Changing It Up

The Bay Area holds so much history for me; while bartending at a quirky diner in The Marina District, I discovered I had received my first book contract.  However, San Francisco was so much more than a canvas for my literary dreams. It was living proof that I could beat the odds and carve a special place for myself in a city oozing with success and accomplishment I hadn't yet achieved. 

I moved to SF knowing zero people. Over the course of a year, I created lifelong friendships with some of the most creative, ambitious souls on the planet.

Callie Schneider thoroughly loves her home in NorCal. However, she feels compelled to embark on a new adventure elsewhere, for reasons she can't quite explain to her roommates or coworkers. So she begins making plans to move, then waits to see if the stars align. She has a specific, nearly impossible dream...and, after years of deliberation, she's finally ready to chase it from one coast to the other.

Love,
Lisa

***
Chapter 9: DECEMBER 29

Where are you flying today? Hope your flights are great, Andrew’s text reads.

I glance at the phone, then place it face-down on the kitchen table, breathing slowly to calm my racing heart. My laptop rests in the center of the table, but I can’t bring myself to reach for it.

“Callie, you look pale,” Linda comments as she rushes into the kitchen. She opens the refrigerator and grabs a tupperware full of leftovers. “Everything ok?”

I nod. “Yeah. Just nervous to check the base bids. I mean, I think I got Fort Lauderdale. But it’s still just...intimidating.”

Linda sets her tupperware on the counter and grabs a seat next to me, at the table. “Want me to do it?” She asks nodding at my laptop.

“It’s ok. I don’t want to make you late for work…”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, waving her hand. She glances at the clock on the wall. It’s just after 9 a.m. “I was running late anyway. Since today’s a holiday, most people aren’t coming into the office at all. I’d rather check your bid, to be honest. I’m curious to see whether Giovanna will be my new roommate on February first.”

I swallow and tie my hair into a loose ponytail. “Ok. Can you check it for me? God, why am I so nervous? This is what I wanted, right? I’ve been mentally prepping for a move to Florida. So why the hell does it feel so...scary…”

Linda grabs my laptop and presses a few keys. “What’s the internal site for SkyLine? Is it easy to find the base bids?”

“Super easy. It’s like four clicks, total,” I inform her, burying my face in my hands. My voice comes out muffled. “MySkylineLink.com, and the login is CSchneider. Password is ‘Amber.’”

“Girl crush?” Linda guesses, her eyes fixed on the laptop screen.

I laugh and peek at my roommate through my fingers. “No, you loser. That was my childhood kittycat.”

“Mmmm,” she murmurs. “Ok, I’m in. What next?”

“Toolbar, all the way to the right, there should be a drop-down box labeled ‘base assignment list’ or something like that.”

“Got it.”

I sigh and lower my hands. “See the link for the updated assignments? Click on that. My seniority number is 3250, so you’ll have to scroll through and find that.”

Linda pauses for a second. “I found it! That’s strange, it says you’re new base is New York…”

“What?!”

“Just kidding,” she smiles, handing me the laptop so I can see for myself. “You got FLL. Dammit, Callie! You’re really leaving us?”

I nod, unable to formulate any words.

Linda sighs heavily. “We will miss you! You better return to San Francisco as soon as you find yourself, or kill your writer’s block, or reconnect with your inner child. Whatever dumb reason you’re moving to Florida! I’ve already forgotten…”

“Change of pace,” I remind her, fixated on the three-letter airport code next to my name. “Holy hell. This is it, huh? Switching coasts in a month.”

Linda rises from the table. “Happy New Year, Callie Schneider. I’m pissed you’re leaving us, but I know this is what you want.”

I look up at her. “You’ll hardly notice I’m gone, Lin. I’ll be back before the end of next year.”

Tammy marches into the kitchen in her pajamas. “Wait, what?”

“Callie officially got the Fort Lauderdale base. She’s leaving us on February first,” Linda announces. “I guess we will have to throw a going-away party.”

“I’m not leaving forever,” I remind them both. “More like, I don’t know… a temporary-break-from-CA party.”

Tammy nods. “Not your typical party theme, but I could work with that…”

New Year's Eve

July 4th has always been my favorite holiday, but New Year's Eve is a close second. As a lifelong daydreamer, I thoroughly enjoy envisioning where the next 365 days will take me. My predictions are almost always wrong! Thankfully, the real journey tends to be far more surprising than I had imagined. 

Of the 34 NYEs I've experiencing on this spinning globe, my favorite ones have always taken place in warm climates. There's something magical about wearing short sleeves while waiting for the clock to strike midnight. 

The main character in my 13th novel, Callie Schneider, is spending her New Year's in Atlanta. She'll head to Miami the following day; that girl is always chasing the sunshine. I can certainly relate. 

xoxo,

Lisa

Chapter 10: DECEMBER 30

Our hotel in Atlanta is right beside the airport, in an area that doesn’t have much to offer besides lodging. The shuttle drops us off in front of the lobby, which twinkles with Christmas lights. While waiting for the driver to unload our suitcases, I glance through the parking lot in search of a restaurant that’s walking distance. Past the rows of cars and trucks, all I can see is a Holiday Inn and a Hyatt Place.

              “Anyone hungry?” I ask my crew. “I might go down to the hotel restaurant. Doesn’t look like there are any other options nearby.”

              The pilots tell me they’ll come downstairs to grab a bite, and Jordan says he will join us too. Tess, the short redhead who was flying in the back of the plane, informs the group that she’s too tired.

              We check in and ride the elevator up to our rooms. Mine is small and simple, with white walls and light gray furniture. I slide out of my uniform at record speed, eager to get some grub. It’s almost eleven o’clock; I rarely wait this long to eat dinner. After changing into a hoodie and leggings, I head downstairs.

              Have fun with the guys tonight, I text Andrew while waiting for the elevator.

              His response arrives instantly. You too, Cal. I hope you have a great New Year’s. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow night.

              I shove my phone in the pocket of my sweatshirt, keeping my head down as I make my way through the hotel lobby. The hotel restaurant is dim and quiet; only a few tables are occupied. Frost lines the window panes on one side of the restaurant, giving that section a hazy glow. Jazz music is piped in through speakers. It plays softly in the background while customers dressed in business suits sip their drinks. I realize that my outfit is incredibly informal for a bar like this, but I decide against going back to my room to change.

One waitress appears to be covering the entire restaurant. She sashays from table to table, dropping off cocktails with elaborate garnishes on top.

              Nobody from my crew has arrived yet, so I select a corner booth and slide into the middle seat. The waitress shows up within seconds, offering me a menu. When I tell her I’m expecting a few more people, she returns with three additional menus.

              I’m browsing the appetizers, all of which sound delicious, when Jordan arrives.

              “Hi Cal,” he says. He sits down beside me, close enough for me to smell his cologne. He’s wearing a gray v-neck sweater with dark-stained vintage jeans. His arm brushes mine when he reaches for his menu.

              “You clean up nice,” I tell him, nodding at his attire.

              He smiles. “You, too.”

              “Liar,” I say, glancing down at my faded sweatshirt and leggings. “I only had one cold-weather outfit in my suitcase. So it was this or a strapless black dress.”

              Jordan lifts an eyebrow. “I’d like to see that, please. It’s not too late to go change... ”

              I’m taken aback by the implications of that comment. Before I have time to respond, both pilots join us. The slide in to my right, filling up the rest of the booth.

“Does anything on the menu look good?” the captain, an older guy with a 70s-style porn star mustache, asks us.

“I’m just here for the drinks,” Jordan tells him. “Haven’t really looked at the food.”

“A drink does sound good,” the first officer notes. He grabs the drink menu from the center of the table. “Looks like they have a bunch of craft beers.”

The waitress returns and takes our orders. I’m the only person at the table who asks for a non-alcoholic beverage. I glance around to see if anyone noticed, but my coworkers appear unconcerned. They are talking about New Year’s resolutions.  

“Do you have a resolution?” Jordan asks me.

I shrug. “Not exactly. They aren’t really my thing; I set goals all the time, not just on January 1st.”

“What are your current goals?” the first officer inquires.

“Hmm. Within the next few months, I would like to adopt a cat. I also wouldn’t mind if I got something published. Not necessarily one of my novels, but a poem or short story would be fine. I’d like to see something in print.”

Jordan nods. “Those sound like realistic aspirations. I hope you get published, Callie.”

“Wait, you write books?” the captain asks, glancing up from his menu. “For fun?”

I nod. “Um, yes. I’m a nerd. I wrote my first book several years ago. It’s addicting. It’s like getting a tattoo; once you have one, you want a million.”

“Where are your tattoos?” Jordan asks.

I bite my lip. “Oh, I don’t have any. It was just an analogy.”

“So you’re making comparisons to things you don’t even have…” he notes with a half-smile.

“I have a tattoo,” the captain announces, catching us all off guard. He lifts his shirt sleeve to reveal a slightly faded anchor tattoo.

“Nice. I see you were in the Air Force,” Jordan jokes, and we all burst out laughing.

The waitress arrives with our food and drinks. The guys raise a toast before taking a sip of beer. I clink my water glass against their beer mugs; nobody seems to care that I have the most boring beverage at the table.

“Can I have a bite?” Jordan asks, eyeing my spinach and artichoke dip.

“Sure,” I tell him. “If I can try your IPA.”

He scoops a heaping pile of dip onto a tortilla chip and pops the whole thing in his mouth. “That’s a fair trade.”

I grab his mug and take a sip. It’s hoppy, with a faint fruity aftertaste. “Kinda bitter, but not terrible,” I note aloud.

“You can have more,” Jordan tells me, reaching for another chip. “If you want.”

I swallow another mouthful and hand the glass back to him, fully aware that if I keep it in front of me, I’ll drink the entire thing. I lean back, into the booth cushions. They’re fluffy and cozy. The pilots are talking about home improvement projects, but I’m only half-listening as I polish off my spinach and artichoke dip.

“Cal,” Jordan whispers, wrapping an arm around me.

I look down at his fingers around my waist, surprised at the tingling soaring through my body. The pilots are still engrossed in conversation over the best way to construct a toolshed. I tilt my face upward, toward Jordan.

“Where’d you go?” he asks, the corners of his hazel eyes scrunching up as his mouth forms a partial grin. “You were off in space, Cal. I ordered you an IPA. My treat, since I ate half your food.”

I swallow. “Thanks, Jordan. I’m trying to cut back, so I might just drink half of it…”

“I’ll finish what you don’t,” he assures me. “Also got a flatbread for the table to share. I figured we are all hungrier than we originally thought.”

My phone buzzes from inside my pocket, but I don’t dare to check it. Jordan’s arm feels so good around my side. Mesmerized by the restaurant’s tranquil atmosphere, I remain completely still, trying to cling to this perfect scene. Everything has been spinning so quickly lately, spiraling out of control while I’ve stood, bewildered, at the center of the storm. But in this exact second, the world feels calm.

“You are beautiful,” Jordan tells me, his eyes locked on mine.

“Huh?” I ask, tilting my head to the side. “I feel gross from flying all day. And I’m basically wearing workout clothes.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he tells me. “None of that matters. You stand out, Callie. You’re different.”

The waitress sets our food and drinks on the table, stirring me from the moment. A flatbread sits directly in front of me, still sizzling. Steam rises from the plate in circular wisps. I reach for a knife and carve myself a small slice. Jordan releases his grip on my waist. He slides one glass of beer toward me and raises the other one to his lips.

“We’re calling it a night,” the captain announces, placing a few bills in the middle of the table. “Early show for us tomorrow.”

“You’re not going to wait for the ball to drop?” I ask the pilots. “Fifteen more minutes until midnight…”

The first officer shakes his head. “Nah. We are old.”

“Older than dirt,” the captain tells us, chuckling as he rises from his seat. “Good night, guys.”

“Night,” I say as the pilots walk toward the elevators.

Jordan scoots closer to me. “Smile.”

Suddenly there’s a phone in my face. I grin as the forward-facing flash goes off.

“Instagram story?” I guess. “Do I look dumb?”

Jordan shakes his head. “No and most definitely no.”

He shows me the image. With the lighting in here and our complimentary complexions, the picture turned out pretty good. Jordan has a movie star smile, which makes for a great photo.

“I don’t post much on IG,” he reflects. “But I do add photos to my website every now and then, even though I have been out of the acting biz for a couple years. Not sure why I still update it. Some dreams die hard.”

“I’d like to see your website,” I tell him. I reach for one last slice of the flatbread. “Is it a blog? A portfolio of sorts?”

“Not a blog,” he clarifies. “It has my bio, union affiliations, and resume. I used to do career updates every time I landed a job, but I haven’t done anything in a while. Aside from being involved in local theater in Cocoa Beach.”

“Do you sing, or just act?”

“Both,” he says. “I’m better at acting, though.”

“I suck at acting, but my singing voice is ok. Or so I’ve been told,” I say, shrugging.

“I’d love to hear it,” Jordan tells me.

“Maybe someday. If you’re lucky.”

“Hey, I can send you the photo. Type in your number.” He hands me his phone.

I roll my eyes. “Really? That’s the oldest trick in the book.”

“So what? Doesn’t matter how old a trick is if it still works,” he says with a sheepish grin.

I type my number in his phone and hand it back to him. He looks at me for a second. The corners of his mouth move, as though he’s considering saying something. I lean in just a little bit. My cheeks are reddening but I can do nothing to stop this process.

“10, 9, 8, 7…”

We both turn toward the television screen near the bar, where a countdown flashes in big, bright letters.

“Six! Five!” I shout along with all the other patrons in the restaurant.

“Callie?” Jordan asks, scratching his chin while the countdown continues. “Is it, um, is it ok if I kiss you?”

“One! Happy New Year!”

I nod, knowing full well that I might regret this in the morning.

Jordan holds my face in his hands, gently, and pulls me toward him. His lips are soft. My body seems to melt into his; somehow I end up with an arm pressed to his chest, my fingers resting on his collarbone.  When I open my eyes, he’s smiling down at me.

“Thanks,” he says. “Happy new year.”

“Hmm. I…I have to go to bed,” I stammer, pulling my gaze from his. “I’m so sorry, Jordan. Just tired. We had a long day today.”

“Let me walk you back to your room,” he offers.

“That’s ok.” I place some money on top of the stack left by the pilots. “Thank you, though. Get some sleep, Jordan. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I hurry toward the elevator, never looking back. The lock screen on my phone displays a series of notifications, including the photo from Jordan. I quickly scan the other texts that came in. Mackie sent me a sweet New Year’s message and my roommates sent a couple photos from the house party they attended in the Mission District. Of course, there’s a message from Andrew.

You deserve everything good in the year ahead. Happy New Year, California.

I sigh and wait for the elevator to bring me to my floor. Then I hurry inside my hotel room, eager to scrub this night off my skin.

A message from Jordan lights up my phone screen while I’m washing my face. Didn’t mean to scare you off. Sleep well, Callie.

Without responding to anyone’s texts, I turn out the light and crawl into bed.

Coast to Coast

My thirteenth novel was inspired by my real-life cross-country journey from Orlando to San Francisco (then back to Orlando...then back to San Francisco). I loved the slow, easy pace of Florida life as much as I relished the exciting buzz of living in The Bay Area. For me, SF's magic was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Meanwhile, Florida's quiet comfort felt reassuring and safe. My gypsy soul craved both extremes, apparently. 

It's interesting that I wound up in Dallas, halfway between both coasts. My husband, home, and furbabies are in North Texas. We'll be here for the foreseeable future, but I am so thankful for the bi-coastal adventures woven into my life story.

Callie Schneider, the protagonist in this novel, doesn't have a set plan. She flies by the seat of her pants, always eager for the next opportunity to try something new.  She's living in San Francisco but making friends around the country. Her life's about to change drastically; although she can't see what's coming, she's up for the challenge.  She just doesn't realize it yet.

Chapter 4: DECEMBER 23

“Callie!” Teresa yells from across the crew room.

I glance up from my computer and wave to Teresa. Then I hurriedly click a few keys, completing my check-in. Teresa meanders through the sea of suitcases and lunchbags until she is directly beside me. We walk to the printer together.

“Hi lady,” she smiles. Her vest looks look freshly-ironed. Her shoes are so clean they shine, unlike my scuffed-up heels. “Where are you flying today?”

I retrieve my trip sheet from the printer and read my pairing aloud. “Let’s see…San Francisco to St. Louis to Pittsburgh.”

“Pitt? Bummer,” Teresa says, grabbing the sheet from my hand. “How about tomorrow night? Oh, you’re in Orlando. Hmm, I have double Austin layovers.”

I groan. “The Marriott by Congress Street? That’s one of the best overnights in the system. I’m jealous!”

She hands my sheet back to me. Then she glances in the mirror beside the check-in station and toys with her blond hair. “You still living in Pac Heights? With those two girls who work downtown?”

“Yep. Tammy and Linda. They’re both in finance.”

Teresa’s brown eyes sparkle. “You’re really living it up, huh? I’d kill to live in that area. You must love it.”

I nod. “I got a great deal, rent-controlled and all that. It’s pretty surreal. Our apartment is central to everything.”

Teresa smiles. “That’s an understatement.”

“How’s Spokane?” I ask. “Is it cold there now? Snowing?”

She nods and pulls a pair of polka-dot earmuffs from her oversized purse. “Don’t laugh. I have to wear these when I commute home. Spokane has been an icebox lately, and it’s only December.”

“If you have to wear earmuffs, at least you got cute ones,” I say with a shrug. “I like the colors.”

“Zack bought them for me! That clown actually has a matching pair. In fact, he was wearing them this morning, when he commuted in,” Teresa says.

I pause as an idea forms in my mind. “Zack Friedman? He’s flying today?”

Teresa nods. “He was in the crew room a minute ago. I think he just left.”

“You know where he’s heading?”

She bites her lip. “Uhh…I think he said Phoenix then Denver. Or maybe Denver first, then Phoenix?”

I reach for my suitcase and jog toward the exit. “Thanks, love! Have a good trip! See ya around.”

It’s noisy in the terminal today, with holiday travelers crowding every walkway. Kids run and play, oblivious to the world around them. Every seat in the airport appears to be occupied. Christmas music blares through the speakers, the lyrics to “White Christmas” getting stuck in my head as I scan the departure screen.

“Phoenix leaves from gate 14, Denver from gate 11,” I note aloud.

I reach gate 11 first. The flight crew is waiting by the jetbridge, their uniforms crisp and clean. There are two older ladies and a younger one with stunning green eyes. No sign of Zack, though.

Gate 14 is so crowded that it takes me a minute to spot the flight attendants. Zack leans against a window, waiting for his plane to arrive. I sidestep toddlers and a service dog to get to him.

“Zack!” I say breathlessly.

He turns toward me. “California! Hey girl! Merry Christmas…almost.”

I wheel my suitcase beside his. “Thanks, you too. Teresa told me you were in the airport today.”

“Yep. Starting a three-day trip,” he says with a nod. “You?”

“Same. Pittsburgh and Orlando,” I tell him. “Hey, uh…I have a weird question. Did you get any of those boys’ numbers when we were in West Palm?”

Zack winks at me. “I sure did. You trying to get in touch with Andrew? One night wasn’t enough?”

If only you knew, I think.

“Something like that,” I say.

Zack scrolls through his phone. “Well, I saved Daryl’s number. Here…I’m forwarding you his contact info. I bet Daryl will be happy to give you Andrew’s number, or at least pass your number along to him.”

I check my phone and Juan’s number lights up my screen. “Thanks, Zack. I owe ya.”

He pulls me into a side hug. “Don’t mention it. Know what? We should pick up a trip together next month. It would be fun.”

I nod. “Sure. And if you’re ever get stuck in the bay before or after a trip, feel free to crash at my place.”

The buzzing of an aircraft gets louder; Zack’s plane has arrived. I glance outside. This particular plane has been painted for the holidays. Snowflakes cover the fuselage.

“Well look at that. I got the Christmas plane for my Christmas trip,” Zack notes with a smile. He heads down the jetbridge. “Have a good one, Cal!”

As Zack disappears from sight, I shoot Daryl a quick text. Hey, this is Callie, the SkyLine flight attendant who visited West Palm with Zack Friedman. Just wondering if you could send me Andrew’s number…I never got a chance to write it down…

Daryl’s response arrives before I even make it to my departure gate. Sure. Andrew talks about you a lot. He’d love to hear from you.

I snort as I read the text. Andrew talks about me “a lot?” We spent eight hours together…and we slept half those hours anyway.

Daryl must be thinking of someone else, I reflect..

***

When we land in Pittsburgh, it’s dark outside. I check my cell phone. 10:16pm.

Vera, a tall girl with a gorgeous complexion, is flying the lead position. I’ve seen her around the base before but this is our first trip together.

She completes her closing announcement as we taxi into the gate. “On behalf of this entire crew and all of SkyLine Airways, thanks for flying with us today. Welcome to Pittsburgh! Enjoy the holidays.”

I hop out of my jumpseat as soon as the airplane reaches a stop.

“Cal, you coming downstairs for a drink tonight?” Vera asks as she disarms her door.

I lift the girt bar on my door then turn toward Vera. “Nah. I would, but I’m too exhausted. Plus it’s a short layover.”

Vera smiles understandingly. “True. Thankfully, our Orlando layover will be much longer.”

The shuttle ride to our hotel is fairly quiet. Both pilots are playing on their phones and the flight attendants are talking about our new crew hotel in Boston. It’s snowing outside, big snowflakes that pile up quickly.

In the hotel room, I collapse on my bed. For about thirty seconds, I stare at my phone screen. Then I slip out of my flight attendant dress and throw on an oversized t-shirt. I sit up against the headrest and dial Andrew’s number.

“Hello?” Andrew’s voice explodes in my eardrum after the third ring.

I swallow. “Oh, hi Andrew. This is Callie, the flight attendant who was in town on Halloween. Sorry to call you so late.”

“Callie! Hey! I’m glad you called. Daryl told me you asked for my number today. I would’ve reached out to you sooner, Cal.  But you left in such a rush that morning, I never even got your number.”

That was on purpose, I note internally.

“How are you?” he continues. “How have you been?”

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just traveling and trying to stay warm. It’s snowing in Pittsburgh tonight. You doing ok, Andrew?”

“Yes. But I’d be better with you here.”

“It was just one night…” I remind him.

“Which is why I would like more time with you,” he clarifies.

I roll my eyes at his enthusiasm. “Listen, Andrew, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about-“

“Over dinner, maybe?” he interrupts. “Are you flying back to West Palm anytime soon?”

I turn on speakerphone and scroll through my SkyLine app to find my monthly schedule. “Uhh, let me check…I don’t have any PBI layovers in January. I have one in Miami, on January 1st.”

“Hmm. A week from now,” Andrew notes. “Where are you this weekend?”

“Pittsburgh tonight. It’s snowing here. Tomorrow we work three flights to Orlando.”

“Orlando! That’s not far from me. What time do you arrive?”

“6 p.m.,” I say.

“I’ll pick you up at the airport. There are some great restaurants in Winter Park, which is only about twenty minutes away. We can get something to eat.”

“Are you sure?” I ask him. “It’s Christmas Eve, Andrew.”

“That’s not a problem. Restaurants should be open.”

I pause. “What about your family; won’t you be celebrating? And Isn’t it a long drive for you?”

“We are Jewish so we won’t be going to church, if that’s what you’re asking,” he says. “And I don’t mind the drive. See you tomorrow at 6.”

As soon as I close out the call, I search the distance from West Palm to Orlando. Google informs me it’s a two and a half hour drive. Without traffic.

“Andrew, you’re a nutcase…” I mutter as I drift off to sleep.