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our leader, the Chairman and CEO of Majestic Airlines. It was a black-and-white head shot that wouldn't have been out of place if this were 1961 and it was hanging next to an eight-by-ten glossy of John F. Kennedy. He stared out at me, and I stared back, knowing how insulted the great Bill Scanlon would be to hang in such a cheap plastic frame. I tried not to linger over the photo, to look away, to move on. But I hadn't been able to move on for the better part of the last year.
    Normally, the only thing that makes the end of a relationship bearable is that many of the painful reminders of the person you are trying to stop loving can be removed from your life. You can throw away pictures, burn letters, and give all those books he gave you to the used bookstore. But as long as I worked for this airline, Bill Scanlon would always be gazing down from the wall in some office, reminding me of the way he used to look at me. Or I would come across his signature on a memo and remember the way his hand used to feel resting lightly on my hip. His imprint on this company-indeed, on the entire industry-was so broad and deep, I would never really get away from him. After all, he was, according to
Business Week,
"The Man Who Saved the Airlines." Looking at the image of his face, I felt what I had felt almost from the first day without him in my life. I missed him.
    Kevin finished his call and stood to greet me, bending slightly at the waist and extending his hand in a gesture that felt oddly formal given the setting. "Welcome to Boston, Miss Shanahan. Kevin Corrigan, at your service."
    I shook his hand. "Call me Alex."
    "Thank you, I shall with pleasure." The glint in his clear blue eyes suggested a wry intelligence, and the Irish accent I'd heard over the radio was even more charming in person.
    "You saved the operation last night, Kevin. But don't tell anyone because I'm getting all the credit."
    "As well you should." He sat back in his chair and swung around to face his computer, raising his voice to accommodate for having his back to me. "It's good of you to come down. Usually I toil in complete obscurity, unless someone wants to yell or complain. In that case," he chuckled, "I'm far too accessible. How are you settling in?"
    "Good. I'm over at the Harborside Hyatt until I get a chance to look for a place."
    "Doesn't sound too homey."
    "Based on what I saw last night, I need to be close to the airport for a while. I'm hoping that was the worst of it, that it can only get better."
    "Not necessarily, but that's why you're here, isn't it?" He swung around and grinned at me, eyebrows dancing. "After all, you did ask for this assignment."
    "How did you know that?"
    "Everyone knows. In fact"-he reached over to rip something off the printer-"everyone knows everything about you."
    My neck stiffened as I thought about the hangman's drawing in the closet last night. I didn't think I wanted everyone to know everything about me, particularly where I was at all times, but I was hoping that's not what Kevin meant. "I'd be really embarrassed if everyone knew my shoe size."
    "Shall I give you the rundown?"
    I rested my hips against the long work counter that served as his desk. "Give it to me straight."
    "You've been with the company fourteen years, all on the Majestic side. You started out as an airport agent and worked your way up from there. You've lived and worked in a dozen different cities. Somewhere along the way you managed an MBA by going to night school. You've spent the past eighteen months at headquarters getting staff experience. That done, you're on a fast track to VP, maybe even to be the first woman vice president in the field."
    I secretly loved hearing that last part. "You should write my resumes. Who's the detective?"
    "There are no secrets here. One day someone knows. Before long everyone knows, and then it's as if we've always known."
    "So I'm finding out." I pulled down a clipboard hanging on a nail and checked out the tour report.