CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR #2
I laugh. “Something like that. And don’t worry about Māori pronunciation. Most Kiwis appreciate the effort even if you get it wrong.”
“What about that thing you call mom sometimes? Ta-koo something?”
Heat creeps up my neck. “ Tāku ipo . It means ‘my darling’ in Māori.”
“That’s sweet,” Sophia says, her fingers finding mine across the console. “Though your accent makes everything sound sweet.”
“Gross,” Madison declares from the backseat. “But also kind of cute, I guess.”
We arrive at the international terminal three hours before our flight, as Sophia has insisted. (“What if there’s a security incident? Or a line? Or a global pandemic?”) Check-in is mercifully quick.
“Can I have the window seat?” Madison asks as we head toward security. “I want to see everything during takeoff.”
“Absolutely,” I agree. “I’m an aisle man myself.”
As we join the security line, Sophia leans close to me, her voice lowered. “I have no problem with Madison having the window, but between us, I’m a little jealous. I love window seats on planes.”
“Don’t worry, tāku ipo ,” I say, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’ll work out.”
She looks up at me, brow furrowed slightly at my tone. “What does that mean?”
“That I’m looking forward to sixteen hours with you beside me.”
She studies me a moment longer, then shakes her head with a small smile. “You’re being mysterious.”
“Just excited to show you my home.”
Security is a breeze, and we make our way through the terminal toward our gate. Madison marvels at the duty-free shops, while Sophia keeps checking her watch and consulting her folder.
“We’re fine for time,” I assure her, guiding them through the international concourse. “The gate’s just up ahead.”
As we approach Gate 17, the Air New Zealand Koru logo makes my heart skip. It has been too long since I’d been home.
We find seats near the boarding area, and Madison immediately asks about the in-flight movies. “Will they have the new Marvel one? Or do they have different movies in New Zealand?”
“Same movies,” I promise. “Air New Zealand actually has excellent entertainment systems.”
“How do you know?” Sophia asks. “Fly with them often?”
Another moment where honesty battles with my carefully constructed narrative. “When I first moved here. I went back and forth a bit before settling.”
Not exactly a lie, but not the whole truth either.
The gate agent’s voice comes over the loudspeaker: “Air New Zealand Flight 1 to Auckland now welcoming our Business Premier passengers, Star Alliance Gold members, and Airpoints Elite customers for priority boarding.”
“That’s us,” I say, standing and gathering our carry-ons. “Let’s go.”
Sophia stares at me. “What? Us? Jack, what are you talking about?”
I cannot help the smile that spreads across my face. “I had some points saved up. Thought I’d surprise you.”
Her eyes narrow. “What kind of points get you boarded first?”
“From all those medical conferences before I transferred to 402. International flights rack up miles fast.” The explanation is plausible enough. “Madison’s in Business Premier—seat 5K. Full pod, it lies completely flat.”
Madison’s jaw drops. “I’m in first class?”
“Business Premier,” I correct. “But yes, essentially.”
“Oh my God!” Madison clutches her mother’s arm. “Mom!”
Sophia looks stunned. “Jack, that’s…that must have been a fortune in points. Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Teenagers need proper sleep on long flights. Otherwise, they get cranky and overthrow the crew.”
Madison is already bouncing on her toes. “Is it like the pods in the movies? Do I get pajamas? Is there a menu?”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” I confirm, unable to resist her enthusiasm. “And we’re in Premium Economy—24A and B. Window and aisle.”
Sophia’s expression cycles through surprise, gratitude, and something else—a fleeting moment of calculation, quickly dismissed.
“Jack, this is incredibly generous,” she says softly.
“It’s nothing,” I reply, meaning it. If she only knew. “Come on, they’re boarding.”
Madison practically sprints to the gate, her boarding pass clutched like a golden ticket. The attendant scans it with a smile. “Business Premier, Miss Mitchell. Right this way.”
Sophia and I follow more sedately. She keeps shooting me sideways glances.
“What?” I ask innocently.
“Medical conferences, huh?”
“Paramedic continuing education. Very important. Plus a few back-and-forth trips when I first moved.”
She seems to accept this. “Well, thank you. Madison’s over the moon.”
“Wait till she sees the seat. It’s quite something.”
Once onboard, a flight attendant shows Madison to her pod in Business Premier.
Her “Oh my God, MOM!” could probably be heard back in the terminal.
We watch as she is presented with a substantial swag bag containing Bose noise-canceling headphones, luxury skincare products, and premium pajamas with the Air New Zealand logo.
Madison looks like she might pass out from excitement.
Sophia and I continue to our Premium Economy seats—significantly more spacious than standard economy, with decent recline and legroom.
“Window’s all yours,” I say, gesturing for her to slide in first.
She settles into her seat with a small sigh of appreciation. “This is…not what I was expecting.”
“Good surprise?”
“Very good.” She squeezes my hand. “Though I did pack those compression socks for nothing.”
“Still wouldn’t hurt to wear them. And stick to the getting up and moving schedule. DVTs are no joke.”
She laughs. “Says the man who just upgraded us.”
“Medical professional,” I remind her. “Safety first, luxury second.”
As the plane fills around us, I watch Sophia. She runs her fingers over the amenity kit, examines the larger entertainment screen, tests the footrest. Small luxuries that are nothing compared to what waits for her in New Zealand, but her appreciation makes something warm unfurl in my chest.
This woman who works so hard, who carries so much, who deserves every comfort I can give her—she is genuinely pleased with Premium Economy. What will she make of the estate? The staff? The McKenzie name that is known throughout the region?
I push the thought away. One step at a time.
Once we are airborne, the cabin crew begins the meal service. Madison appears briefly from Business Premier, still euphoric.
“Mom! They gave me REAL menus. And hot towels! And the seat goes completely flat!” She demonstrates with her hands. “The flight attendant says I can order whenever I want. And there’s ice cream sundaes!”
“That’s wonderful, sweetie,” Sophia says, clearly enjoying her daughter’s excitement. “Just don’t overdo it, okay? Remember your stomach on the Springfield roller coaster.”
Madison makes a face. “That was different. This is fancy food.” She turns to me. “Thank you, Jack. This is the coolest thing ever.”
“You’re welcome, Madison. Glad you’re enjoying it.”
She leans closer, lowering her voice. “The guy across from me is, like, definitely someone important. He has monogrammed cufflinks.”
“Very fancy,” I agree solemnly.
“I’m going back to watch a movie on my gigantic screen.” She practically skips back to Business.
“You’ve made her entire year,” Sophia says, watching her go.
“Good. She deserves it.”
The flight attendant brings our own Premium Economy meals—not quite Business Premier standard, but still quite good. Sophia opts for the wine, and I join her. The Air New Zealand Pinot Noir is not from the McKenzie Estate, thankfully, though I recognize it from a neighboring vineyard.
After dinner, we settle in to watch a movie together. The cabin lights dim, creating a cocoon of semi-privacy. I put my arm around Sophia’s shoulders, and she nestles against me.
“This was thoughtful,” she murmurs, halfway through the film. “All of it.”
“Just the beginning,” I reply, pressing a kiss to her hair.
“Madison’s so excited to see New Zealand. Your home.”
“I can’t wait to show you both.”
“Tell me more about your family,” she says, looking up at me. “What makes them your family? Something you love about each of them.”
The question catches me off guard, digging deeper than her previous inquiries. I think for a moment.
“Charlotte has this laugh,” I say finally.
“She’s serious most of the time—all business and efficiency—but when something really gets her, she has this laugh that sounds exactly like she did when she was five.
Completely unguarded. Makes everyone around her laugh too, even if they don’t know what’s funny. ”
Sophia smiles. “I can picture that.”
“Emma collects vintage rugby jerseys. Not valuable ones, necessarily—just ones with stories. She has this ancient, moth- eaten Otago jersey that belonged to our great-grandfather. She wears it for good luck during important matches, even though Mum threatens to burn it every time she sees it.”
“And Lily?”
“Lily talks to plants. Full conversations. She’ll be taking measurements in her research garden, chatting away to the specimens about her day. She swears they grow better when she does. She even names them—her doctoral research subjects are all named after characters from The Lord of the Rings.”
Sophia’s expression has softened. “They sound wonderful. And your parents?”
“Dad keeps a journal. He has since he was a teenager. One entry every day, no matter what. When we were kids, he’d let us draw in the margins sometimes.
And Mum…” I smile at the memory. “Mum can’t sing to save her life, but she does it anyway.
Loudest, most tone-deaf rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ you’ve ever heard, every single year. ”
Sophia squeezes my hand. “Thank you for sharing that. It makes them feel more real to me.”
If only you knew how real they’re about to become.
As the movie ends, Sophia checks on Madison again. “Sound asleep,” she reports, returning to her seat. “Flat on her back with three blankets and an eye mask. Living the dream.”
“Good. She should get some proper rest.”
The cabin is quiet now, most passengers either sleeping or watching their screens with headphones. Sophia leans her seat back and closes her eyes.
“You should sleep too,” she tells me. “Long day tomorrow.”
“I will,” I promise, though sleep feels impossible with my thoughts racing.
Despite everything, I must have dozed off. The steady hum of the engines, Sophia’s warmth beside me, the wine—it all conspires to pull me under. My head drifts toward her shoulder, consciousness slipping away.
I am vaguely aware of Sophia shifting beside me, then getting up. Bathroom, probably. I should rouse myself, but my limbs feel weighted, my eyes too heavy to open.
Just five more minutes…
Someone gently pokes my shoulder. I force my eyes open, blinking in the dim cabin.
Sophia stands in the aisle, her eyes glittering in the dark.
“Jack,” she whispers, bending close. “Come with me.”
Suddenly, I am very much awake.