Jeff takes another trip

"Welcome home, John!" Jeff said as Thunderbird Three's sofa locked into its spot in the lounge decor. The monthly transfer of personnel had taken place on time, much to Alan's chagrin. Jeff got up from behind his desk to shake John's hand and clap him on the shoulder. "It's good to see you in the flesh, son!"

"Thanks, Father!" John said with a grin. "It's good to be home."

"Did everything go well? Any glitches I should know about?" Jeff asked, leaning on his desk. It was standard operating procedure for a short, informal debriefing on the return from the transfer run.

John looked at Scott, and shook his head. "No, no glitches. We made good time."

Scott grinned. "I think we broke a speed record for unloading Three, though. Johnny here was very, very eager to get home."

John rolled his eyes. "I'm always eager to get home. Especially when the cupboard starts looking as bare as it did this time. I'm glad you filled the entire list, Dad. Alan shouldn't run short of anything."

"Except Grandma's pies," Scott remarked. "He was grousing about that, yesterday."

"Your grandmother is not up to baking anything right yet. Except maybe herself... in the sun," Jeff said, picking up a data pad.

"Where is Grandma now?" John asked, picking up his bags. "I want to see her as soon as possible."

"Tin-Tin took her down to the pool," Jeff said as he moved back to his desk. "She likes it because it's still green down there. Nothing was green in Kansas when we left."

"Ah!" John exclaimed. "I'll go and see her as soon as I unpack."

"You'll have to do your own laundry, John," Jeff warned, looking up from his virtual paperwork. "We're all pitching in to help keep things clean around here."

"F-A-B. Heard and understood," John said, grinning. He gave his father an informal salute and left the room, chatting with Scott on the way out.

Jeff sighed as he returned to his data pad. Not another word had been said between mother and son about the altercation the day before, though the atmosphere between them was still strained. Eleanor had stayed in her room on her return to it, and had taken her lunch and dinner there. Her only excursion was a trip to the infirmary, so that Brains could listen to her lungs and give her a quick check over with the medical scanners. That morning, she had appeared in the kitchen for breakfast, leaning on Alan's arm, and they had spent the time before his flight to Thunderbird Five together. Finally, after lunch, which she had eaten with the family, Eleanor had asked Tin-Tin to bring her down to the pool for some time in the sun.

Jeff was grateful for the respite; he had spent a lot of time sitting by her bedside in Kansas, watching the flu slowly lessen its grip on her lungs and her intestines. He had been given a good scare, and a glimpse of her relative fragility. She won't be around forever, Jeff thought sadly. I hate to think of what life will be like when she's gone. Perhaps I should discuss the subject with her, see what kinds of plans she has, and if she hasn't planned for it... well, I'll cross that bridge should I come to it.

He returned to his memos, reading the ones that seemed to be most important and replying to them. He was so engrossed that when he heard a soft, "Ahem", he was startled and jumped a bit.

"Brains! How long have you been standing there?"

"J-Just a few minutes, Mr. T-Tracy," Brains replied, pushing his glasses back up his nose. Jeff motioned for him to sit, and the engineer did.

"What's on your mind, Brains?" Jeff asked, immediately thinking, Maybe I shouldn't have put it quite like that. He's always got something on his mind.

"Uh, I just wanted t-to remind you that I'm, uh, leaving Sunday for the conference in A-Atlanta," Brains said. "And that I may n-need a, uh, co-pilot."

"Right. A co-pilot. Who can best...? Wait a minute. I've been thinking that Lou should know about what you and Gordon found out about her plane. But it's not something that I'd want to discuss with her over the phone. So, why don't I be your co-pilot? Then I can pay Lou a visit and tell her in person."

Brains sat up straighter, startled by the offer from his boss. "Th-That would be, uh, fine, Mr. Tracy."

Jeff smiled. "Good. Then it's settled. I'll let Scott know that he's in charge while I'm gone." Then a thought occurred to him. "Uh, Brains? Don't tell anyone where I'm going, please. I'll let Scott know before we go, but I don't want it to get back to my mother. She, uh, doesn't like Lucinda."

"S-Sure, Mr. Tracy. No p-problem." Brains rose to go, then hesitated for a moment. "S-Should I do the, uh, pre-flight checks, or will you?"

"I'll do them, Brains. You just get yourself ready for that conference. I hear you have a lot of talking to do," Jeff answered.

"Yes, I, uh, have several p-panel forums and a lecture," Brains said with a grimace. Jeff smiled a bit; he remembered how extremely nervous Brains had been at the beginning of his lecture in Paris, where the two had first met. But he also knew that once the engineer warmed to his subject, the stutter disappeared and he was an exceptionally concise and compelling speaker.

"Very good. I'm sure you'll wow them," Jeff encouraged. "Our departure will be at 0800 hours on Sunday morning."

"O-Okay, Mr. Tracy. Thank you." And with that, Brains left through the door to the balcony.

Jeff sat back, his memos momentarily forgotten as he began to put the details together. With an ease that came from long practice, he did the time zone math in his head. Let's see. Today is Friday, and we leave early Sunday morning by eight. At Mach 1.5, it's a little more than seven hours straight to Atlanta. That would put us there at around three p.m. our time. Now, with Atlanta roughly seven hours or so and a day behind us, we'd be there at around ten p.m., Saturday. We can stay overnight in Atlanta, Brains can check in the next day, and I can either fly or drive out to Asheville on Sunday. Get there in time to take Lou out for lunch.

By this time, he was sending out an email to his secretary in New York, asking her to make the arrangements for a hotel suite in Atlanta and transportation to and from it, and a rental car and accommodations for himself in North Carolina. It's nine p.m. out there now. My secretary will get this in the morning. She'll be scrambling, but I know she can get it done. I'll file the flight plans myself. Now the question is: do I tell Lou? Or do I surprise her? I suppose I can decide that later. What I really need now is a reason to go to the States that my mother won't see through!

Now that he'd started the ball rolling on the arrangements, Jeff found himself waiting anxiously for Sunday to roll around. The remainder of Friday and all of Saturday seemed to crawl by. Jeff cleared his desk of paperwork. He did his wash and packed his suitcases. He did the preflight checks on Tracy One... twice. He offered to help John with the post flight maintenance on Thunderbird Three, which garnered him a strange look from his oldest son, who was also helping John. He even vacuumed the pool. The email from his secretary just made him even more antsy, a condition that didn't escape the rest of the family.

Finally, late Saturday evening, Scott cornered him in the lounge. "Okay, Dad. What's going on?" he asked bluntly. "You've been, and I quote Grandma, 'jumpier than a cat in a room full of rockin' chairs'. Something's up, and I want to know what it is."

Jeff took a deep breath, and let it out. "I didn't realize I was being so obvious, especially to your grandmother. I don't want her to know what I'm doing."

Scott frowned at his father. "What are you doing that you don't want Grandma to know about?"

"Well," Jeff began, running a hand back through his hair and leaving it at the nape of his neck. "I'm going to visit Lou."

Scott's frown dissolved into a look of confusion. He paused, then asked, "And exactly what is so bad about that?"

"Your grandmother doesn't like Lou. Never has. She'd go into orbit if she knew I was going to the States for that purpose." Jeff lowered his hand, then added. "Getting all riled up isn't good for her right now."

"Oh," Scott answered, still looking confused. "I thought you were flying shotgun with Brains?"

"I am. He needs a co-pilot and I figured that I could do that and then take a side trip to see Lou while he was at the conference. I think she should know about her plane, and that's not something you just mention casually over the phone. Or, at least, I don't believe it's right to call and suddenly drop it in her lap. A personal visit is more appropriate to deliver news like that, don't you agree?"

Scott shrugged. "Yeah, I can see your point. So, what do you want me to tell Grandma? You know she's going to ask."

"The only thing I can come up with is that I'm paying a visit to the offices in the southeast with an eye to expanding the operations down there. I will make an appearance in the Atlanta office sometime next week, and perhaps go down to Florida and poke around there. What do you think?"

"That should work. She wouldn't question it, seeing as how you're combining two activities, Brains's conference with the visit to the south. You know how big she is on saving time and money. Does she know where Lou is living these days?"

Jeff straightened up in surprise. "No, I don't believe she does. Last she knew, and I knew for that matter, Lou was living in small town Wisconsin." He shook his head. "That Greg got promotions to some out-of-the-way places."

"Okay, then," Scott said. "You've gone to visit our offices in the southeastern U.S. with an eye to expansion. How do I get in touch with you?"

"Satellite phone. Using the wrist communicator would raise too many questions," Jeff said. He stepped over to Scott and put a hand on his son's shoulder. "I appreciate you covering for me, Scott, both to your grandmother and for IR. I know it's not your favorite thing to do."

"I guess it comes with being the oldest. Though next time, could you ask John or Virgil to take the desk during rescues? I hate the waiting..."

"I know, Scott, I know. I'll keep that in mind for my next trip," Jeff promised. He looked at his watch. "I guess it's time to hit the hay. Don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight, but I've got to try. You've got night watch, don't you, son?"

"Yeah, I do, Dad."

"Then I'll say goodnight, Scott. I'll say my good byes in the morning." Jeff smiled at his eldest, then left the room, while Scott sighed and went around his father's desk to sit in his father's chair. He pulled out his crossword puzzle, then put it down and reached over to the switches that powered the communication system. The flip of a switch and Alan's picture went from painting to live vid.

"International Rescue base to Thunderbird Five. Do you read, Thunderbird Five?"

A long moment, then Alan appeared, his hair mussed and in his pajamas and robe. He rubbed his eyes. "Thunderbird Five here, base. Reading you strength five. What's up, Scott?"

"Nothing, Alan. Didn't realize you were asleep already or I wouldn't have bothered you," Scott responded contritely. "Go back to bed. I can occupy myself down here just fine."

"Night watch?" Alan asked, sitting down in the space monitor's chair.

"Yeah. Not my favorite activity, but hey, someone's got to do it," Scott admitted. His eyes narrowed as a thought struck him. "Hey, Al. Did the salvage people ever raise Lou's plane?"

"I don't know for sure, Scott," Alan said. "But John did leave a note that the salvage buoy had been deactivated."

"Hmm. Sounds like they must have," Scott remarked. "Thanks, Alan." He smiled as his brother stifled a yawn. "Go back to bed, kiddo. Sorry I woke you."

"I'm going, I'm going," Alan grumbled, yawning again. "And don't call me kiddo!"

Scott laughed. "Goodnight, Alan. Base, out."

Jeff's second Sunday morning found him at the Asheville jetport, picking up his rental car. The flight from Tracy Island had gone smoothly, and Brains had been the best flying companion that Jeff could have had. He talked about some of the projects he had in the development stages, and Jeff was hard pressed to keep up with his chief engineer's ideas. The upshot was that Jeff forgot about his internal butterflies for a time, and immersed himself in making some concrete plans for more rescue equipment, including a hovercraft for snow rescues and a small, two-man orbital shuttle to be attached to Thunderbird Five for rescues within Earth's orbit... or in case of an emergency on the space station. They had stayed overnight in a posh suite at Atlanta's most exclusive hotel. In the morning, Jeff made it a point to call Lou at her home, but was disappointed to get only her answering machine. Then Brains dropped Jeff off at the airport again and went on to register for his conference, and Jeff took to the skies for the brief flight to southwestern North Carolina.

The black sports coupe was equipped with the best global positioning computer that money could buy and Jeff entered Lou's address into the memory. The screen popped up with a map showing clear directions to the house, and he left the airport, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he tuned in the satellite radio.

He was surprised to leave the Asheville city limits and enter the mountainous area surrounding the town. A river appeared, a sign designating it the French Broad River, and he followed a road that ran along its edge. At one point, he noticed an exit for the Blue Ridge Parkway, and made note of it for a possible future visit. At last he came upon a gravel drive with a tall stone, painted white, which bore the name River Ridge. He turned in there and followed the drive up a steep hill. Along the way he passed a house, then another, then a small bed and breakfast style inn. Just past the inn, on the opposite side of the well kept track, was the house he was searching for.

It was a small cottage, painted yellow, and he could see it through the trees before he found the drive. He pulled in, and parked the car near the flagstone path leading up to the front door. He just sat for a moment looking over the home, then he got out of the car and sauntered down the path to the wide wooden porch. Taking a deep breath, he rang the doorbell, and waited.

Nobody came to the door. He rang the bell again, putting his hands in his pockets, shifting from one foot to the other as he stood there. He seemed to hear some sort of commotion inside, and to his left, two slats of the vertical blinds covering the wide front window parted and a scrawny tortoiseshell cat climbed up on the windowsill to peer out at him. Jeff smiled briefly, then turned his attention to the door again. He knocked this time, using the brass door knocker that was inscribed with the name "Myles". Three loud taps seemed to echo in the quietness of the country setting, and he looked around, suddenly aware of how alone he really was.

When he was certain there was no response, and there was going to be no response, he stalked back to his car. I knew I should have called ahead sooner than this morning, he groused. I wonder if she's gone for the day, or if she's just stepped out for a few hours, or what? She can't have taken a trip; the boys mentioned something about her using a cat sitter when she showed up on the island. Well, I'll wait for fifteen minutes or so and if she doesn't show, I'll head back to town and check in to my hotel suite, then call her from there.

He got into the car and sat with his head resting against the back of the plush leather seat. He put on the satellite radio again, surprised to find that it worked so well in this mountainous area. Not a dead spot like that place in New Brunswick, he realized. Lou chose well when she moved to this place.

The car was warm, and the music he chose was soothing, and he must have dozed off at one point, because the next thing he knew he was startled awake by a sharp tapping at the driver's side window. He shook his head to clear it and glanced to his left... only to find himself looking at the matte black barrel of a semi-automatic pistol.