With a sigh, I put the magazine back in the seat back pocket and turned my attention out the tiny window. It took a moment to register what I was looking at, and when it did, a creeping uncertainty began in my chest. Water?

I reached up and pushed the overhead buzzer and waited, staring out my tiny window at the vast expanse of water below.

"What can I help you with, sir?" The attractive attendant asked, leaning down toward me, perfectly manicured fingers resting on the seat back.

"All that water? Why are we flying over water from Toronto to Vancouver? I know we pass over the Great Lakes but that's not what that is."

"This flight is to Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Our route is over the ocean due to FAA directives."

"What! No! No, I have a ticket for Vancouver!" I found my ticket folder and handed it to her. "It says Vancouver!" I pointed to the destination.

She calmly removed the ticket and boarding pass, studying them silently. A tiny frown marred the perfect forehead, and she excused herself with a smile and hurried toward the stewards' lounge. I looked back down and felt panic rising in my chest. Too much water!

"Mister Hayward, I'm co-pilot, Andrew Forrester, it seems there has been a series of errors regarding your ticketing. Can you tell me, did you make these arrangements yourself?"

"Yes, but what do--?"

"Through an agent or personally through the airport kiosk?"

"In the airport. One of you machi--"

"Aaaah" A meaningful look at the attendant. "Sir, your ticket is fine. Everything's correct . . . but it seems the machine produced the incorrect boarding pass. Did you read it?"

"Uh- well just the gate number- I assum--"

"This is a strange one indeed. The boarding pass is also correct for this flight, but it doesn't match your ticket."

There was a brief huddle between the two airline personnel, and then the co-pilot turned back.

"Uh- sir, what we can do is upon reaching our destination, we can arrange for you to be routed to Vancouver. Now there might be some delays finding available flights but the airline will put you up in a hotel for as long as necessary to arrange the flights required for Vancouver. All this will be complimentary."

"I only have a week, how long--?"

"That will depend upon what arrangements can be made, sir. Meanwhile, allow Linda to make your flight with SeaAir as comfortable as possible. Whatever you need, sir, our compliments."

Spiel finished, I watched Co-pilot Andrew Forrester zip back to the flight deck, bolting the door no doubt.

"So what can I do to help us forget this little incident? A drink? Some nuts?" Linda leaned against the seat back, her smile almost predatory, waiting for my reply.

Help us? Incident? "Yeah, a double bloody Caesar, extra salt on the rim."

"Any nuts? Crackers?" She smiled, patting the seat back, and waltzing down the aisle.

Her question conjured up exactly the condition I was feeling. The water below sparkled in silver flashes between the puffy clouds, and I thought about Doreen waiting in Vancouver arrivals, meeting the plane with me not on it. I was a dead man. This whole trip was arranged so we could have time together for working through any doubts before saying yes to the big M . . . marriage.

It wasn't the actual act of wedding, it was about Doreen quitting her lucrative job to move east so I wouldn't have to quit my more lucrative position.

"Would you lower your table please, Mister Hayward?" Linda waited, smiling with her white pearl teeth perfectly aligned.

Snapping back to the present, I lowered the table and leaned back as she placed my giant bloody Caesar and a salad bowl of mixed nuts in front of me.

"Anything else while I'm here?"

I gnawed the inside of my cheek raw. "No- that's fine."

"Well you just push that little buzzer if you want anything else." This time the fingers trailed slowly over the seat back.

I watched her drift back down the aisle. Doreen had asked for extra time on top of her notice for this visit. I was a very dead man. I sucked the salt off the rim and swallowed most of the spicy liquid in one gulp.

***

"Mister Hayward? Mister Hayward. We're making our approach to Ft. Lauderdale, please put your tray table up and fasten your seat belt."

My eyes jerked open and widened at the sight of Linda's face inches from my own. The manicured hand was resting on my shoulder, and it squeezed slightly as she moved on down the aisle checking passengers.

Outside, the water had been replaced by a road divided grid of different shades of green, interrupted intermittently by soft white cloud. I closed my eyes as the plane touched down and raced along the tarmac to the arrivals gate. Opening them, I groaned. The weather looked sunny and warm - perfect for my sweaters and long sleeve shirts.

Linda stopped by my seat again and told me I was to wait until everyone had deplaned, and then I would go with her to the terminal manager's office and get this little fuss sorted out. Again - a little fuss!

***

I had never seen so many backsides being covered as I did in the offices of SeaAir. Hospitality oozed like tree sap from the providers, while at the same time quaking over the prospect of a massive lawsuit. So, sitting in my ultra modern corner tower suite with the king bed, guest room, and stunning view of the marina and ink blot shaped pool, I waited anxiously for Doreen to answer her phone.

"Doreen! Oh man, how are you? Am I ever glad I got you. You aren't going to--"

"That's right, Mathew, I'm not going to." The icy tone slid down the line, freezing my ear. "I spent nearly a whole day and night waiting for you, sitting in airport offices while dozens of people tried to locate you, and not so much as a phone call."

"I'm calling now; it's the first chance--"

"Wrong, Mathew! It was your last chance. I had to beg for this leave of absence on top of having given my notice, and now I am sitting here with absolutely nothing – no job, no fiancé, and no prospects!"

"Doreen, if you would just let me--"

"I'll tell you what I'll let you do, Mathew; I'll let you say goodbye . . . for good!"

"Doreen? Dor-" Goodbye for good! For good!

I wandered dumbfounded out to the balcony, staring down at the pool and the lounges covered in sunbathers.

***

My news about not needing to reach Vancouver anymore, and why, sent ulcers rocketing. They would fly me first class back to Toronto, limo to my door and give me a lifetime pass to their VIP lounge, all of which I accepted after I had my week's vacation right where I was.

They might have well let me sue for what this week was going to cost them. Everything was comped, and I was going to abuse every opportunity. Losing my fiancé, along with a very expensive ring, had changed all my future plans. It seemed Doreen and I were in the same boat – well I did still have a pretty good job waiting.