Free Dates And Other Nuts by Lori Copeland Page B

the passenger list look?”
    â€œUsual crowd,” Temple said. “The ones Scotty didn’t scare off with his blind-pilot act.” She rapped the copilot on the shoulder.
    â€œDid you get my present?” Craig asked.
    â€œWhat present?”
    He tossed her a package of nuts. Grinning, she caught it, getting the implication immediately. Nuts to you .
    â€œI take it you haven’t forgotten Gabrielle?”
    â€œI owe you one, Burney.”
    â€œI got one already. Thanks, Scotty, for setting me up with Jon.”
    Scotty wouldn’t look up. “Sorry about that, kiddo.”
    She picked up their empty cups. “And Craig, I’m really am sorry about Gabby. Next time—”
    He cut her off. “No next time. You take care of your love life, and I’ll take care of mine.”
    She tossed the package of nuts back at him.
    Slipping out of the cabin, she made a mental note to phone Gabrielle the moment she got home and find out her version of the story.
    After checking the galley again, Temple took her place at the door of the plane to greet the embarking passengers.
    Thirty minutes later, the passengers were safely buckled into their seats and ready for takeoff. A pair of redheaded twins had already alienated everyone within two rows of them. Their mother was showing signs of strain and it wasn’t eight-thirty yet.
    A bell sounded, and Temple picked up the closed-circuit intercom.
    â€œReady to fly?” Craig asked.
    â€œLike a bird.”
    Completing a final walk down the aisle to check seat belts and chair backs, Temple returned to the front, slipped a tape into the cassette player and reached for an oxygen mask as a resonant baritone on the tape relayed vital safety instructions.
    Switching off the cassette, Temple smiled and reached for her microphone. Sparrow was known for its good-natured approach to flight information. Sort of sweetening the dry repetitive instructions.
    â€œGood morning, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying Sparrow Airlines. We know you had a choice. You will note that in case of the grievous combination of turbulence and weak stomachs, there are bags in the pocket of the seat in front of you. Since I’m the only attendant on board, please use them. And if you must hurl, please hurl accurately.”
    The twins were hanging over the backs of the seats in front of them, forcing the occupants to lean forward. They were already glancing anxiously over their shoulders. The mother’s efforts to reseat the twosome were ineffectual. It was going to be a long flight, Temple decided.
    â€œShould it become necessary to set down this plane in water,” she continued, “the cushion of your seat is a flotation device—”
    â€œWater?” someone commented loudly. “When did they put an ocean in Oklahoma?”
    â€œWhy should we need flotation devices?” a man in the back row piped up. “I want a parachute.”
    â€œIn the unlikely event of the sudden loss of cabin pressure, oxygen masks will drop in front of you. Place the bag first on your face, then assist your children—”
    The twins found the reading-light switches.
    â€œâ€”if you want to,” she added, grinning.
    Announcements out of the way, Temple buckled herself into her seat. The plane was barely off the ground before the boys discovered the air flow vents. Temple loaded her refreshment cart with coffee and juice, and began to make her way down the aisle.
    It was a typical flight. The twins couldn’t decide what to drink, wouldn’t sit down, wouldn’t leave their trays upright and wouldn’t listen to their mother.
    Temple finished her run and returned to the cockpit to see if Craig and Scotty needed anything.
    Craig glanced up as she came in. “Everything all right back there?”
    â€œTwins from hell in fine form, new mother nicely settled. We’ve got a male passenger who is taking up two seats and half