Chapter Nineteen: In-flight Gossip
"And after all, my duck, you and my lady Anne go back a long way. Much further than you and Antonio! You owe Anne of Cleves Cosmetics for your modeling career, and a lot more than that. So you see, ducky, there are always two sides to every question!"
"I'm not a duck," Catherine growled, shifting in her seat to ease the throbbing pain of her wounded shoulder. The crowded jet airliner was stuffy and far too warm. It was annoying to be treated like a baby after all she'd seen and done on the tropical island of Puerto Tranquilo. But she did see Mrs. Holliday's point. Anne was counting on her to be strong, and stand by her side. And to do that Catherine had to leave the island and her memories behind. She had to get back to England if it killed her!
"Arm hurting you again, ducky?" Mrs. Holliday's alert gray eyes didn't miss the way the slim, fragile beauty winced and went slightly pale as the jumbo jet hit a bumpy patch of turbulent air.
"It's nothing," the injured girl murmured, pushing away the pain pills the kindly housekeeper kept holding out to her. Catherine wanted her mind to be clear and alert when they reached London.
"Perhaps a little something to eat, then." Mrs. Holliday smiled at the handsome young flight attendant in the smart uniform, who was busily serving breakfast to the passengers. Or was it lunch? Catherine couldn't decide, because they'd left Puerto Tranquilo very early in the morning, yet the time shifts meant that it would be afternoon or evening when they finally arrived in London.
"When we get back to London, the first thing I'm going to do is ask Anne about going right back to work." Catherine was finished with her in-flight meal long before Mrs. Holliday. Picking at the food on her tray one-handed was no fun. All she could seem to manage was dry toast and little soup. And her shoulder was still throbbing.
"When we get back to London, the first thing you're going to do is take a nice quiet holiday in the country and get lots of rest." Big fat Mrs. Holliday stopped eating her English steak pie just long enough to give Catherine a sharp, knowing look from head to toe. "The way you look now, pale and far too thin, with your arm in a sling and those big blue shadows under your eyes, nobody in London, Paris, or Milan would ever hire you as a model."
"Thanks a lot!" Catherine frowned, not liking to hear the truth. She felt cornered, and she gulped down the bright blue pain pills Mrs. Holliday held out to her. How could she help Anne keep her cosmetics company going if she couldn't even work as a model?
"Don't you worry, my duck." Mrs. Holliday went right back to forking down meat and potatoes like a starving man. "My lady Anne is ever so clever. She'll come up with a plan. Wait and see!"
"Mm. Don't want to wait." Catherine felt a bit sluggish and foggy, all of a sudden. She needed a plan of her own! But when she closed her eyes, all she could picture was her own face on the cover of all the magazines. She was walking down the runway showing off all the latest creations, and paying Anne back for all her kindness. Antonio was waiting backstage with red roses and a sparkling diamond ring. And then . . . and then . . .
"Anything more for you, ma'am?" The bright-eyed flight attendant was hovering respectfully next to Mrs. Holliday. But it was Catherine's long-legged, stylish figure that drew his boyish gaze.
"No, that will be all. You may take my tray, and the young lady's." The hefty older woman glanced over at pale and slender Catherine, who was oblivious to her surroundings and quite unaware of the low-voiced conversation. The pain pills did their work like always, but like always they also sent her right to sleep.
"The young lady looks as though she must have had a rough time in the tropics," the flight attendant said, as he was loading his cart with dirty dishes. His eyes were shining with admiration. "I think I've seen her before, on the cover of a magazine or maybe on television. Is it true she broke up a big drug ring single handed?"
"She may have had a bit of help," Mrs. Holliday told the lad, resisting the urge to gossip. Catherine had her sights set on a man, not on fighting crime. But the outcome was sure to be the same either way. "She may look like a skinny thing, but when she puts her mind to it, there's nothing my lamb can't accomplish!"