Chapter One
My flight from Los Angeles touches down in Sydney at 3:30 on the dot. It takes exactly nine-and-a-half minutes for me to exit the gate, grab my luggage, and make my way out of the terminal.
I like numbers because they’re reliable. You can add, subtract, multiply, and divide to your heart’s content, but at the end of the day, you’re going to end up with a result you can count on.
One by one, the passengers from my flight disperse into the crowd, as I stand in front of a busy McDonald’s, waiting for my dad to come find me. For a guy who works at one of the largest banking firms in Australia, you’d think he’d be better at keeping track of numbers. Hours, minutes, seconds...
I wheel my suitcase to an empty table and plop down with a sigh.
So much for hoping this time would be different.
My parents split up the year I entered middle school, and my dad moved to Sweden shortly after that. He came back to California to visit me a handful of times, with a suitcase full of souvenirs and a mouth full of empty promises about one day bringing me to visit him.
When he took the job in Sydney, he swore he’d make time to host me. Three months passed before his invite finally came, along with the requisite apologies, this time for missing my high school graduation.
A half hour passes before a harried woman in a blue pantsuit comes bustling up to my table, waving a sign with my name written on it in black Sharpie.
“Hi Ruby,” she says. “I’m Liz, your dad’s assistant. Gosh, you’re a pretty one. Your picture doesn’t do you justice.”
“Thanks.” I tuck a stray lock of chocolate-brown hair behind my ear. “Where’s my dad?”
“He got caught up in a meeting and sent me to collect you. I see you’ve already got your bags. I hope your flight wasn’t too bumpy.”
“It was fine.” I don’t mean to be curt with Liz; it’s not her fault my dad’s meeting ran late and he forgot to text me.
“Good. Now, let’s get you out of here. You must be starving. Have you eaten?”
“Just some crackers on the plane.” I sling my messenger bag onto my shoulder. Liz extends the handle on my suitcase and begins wheeling it away. I follow, amazed at how fast she can hustle in three-inch pumps.
“Car’s just outside,” she says over her shoulder. I almost lose her twice before we reach the main entrance.
The car waiting for us is a black BMW with tinted windows. For a second, I think my dad might be waiting inside to surprise me, but those hopes are squashed as soon as the driver opens the rear door. Liz and I climb inside as the driver packs my luggage into the trunk.
Liz makes small talk all the way to the office, and I try not to sound too disinterested. As we exit the car, I crane my neck to get a look at the tips of the very tall skyscrapers surrounding me.
“Come along, sweetheart.” Liz beckons. “Your dad’s going to be so excited to see you.”
The wheels on my suitcase make an obnoxious whirring noise as they roll over the lobby’s shiny black tiles. My stomach dips as the elevator sends us flying toward the forty-second floor. On the way up, I take a second to smooth out my plum-colored pants and black top. Normally, I would’ve dressed for comfort, what with the fifteen-hour plane ride, but my dad hasn’t seen me in almost two years. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I want to impress him.
“Here we are,” Liz says as we step out of the elevator. I trail her out into a posh-looking sitting area and then down a long, wide hall. Men and women in tailored suits march past us in both directions. I squeeze the handle on my suitcase and try not to trip as my gaze darts literally everywhere.
Liz ushers me through a doorway, which leads to another sitting area, then down a short hallway to a corner office where my father sits squinting at a computer screen.
“Mr. Clark, your daughter’s here.”
My dad barely glances up from the screen. “Hey, honey. How was your flight?”
“It was okay.” Seconds tick by as I stand there awkwardly, waiting for him to actually come and greet me.
After exactly thirty-seven seconds, he rises from his desk, pushes his glasses up his nose and takes a good look at me.
“When did you get so tall?” he asks. I’m not that tall. Barely five-six, but I guess it has been a while since he’s seen me. He pulls me into an awkward side hug that lasts less than a second, then quickly breaks away, brushing his hands off like I’m made of something he doesn’t want to get on his pants.
Liz seems to sense the tension between us. She touches my arm and asks, “Can I get you a tea or coffee, sweetheart?”
“Water’s fine,” I say. She leaves, and it’s just the two of us, my father and me. He looks like a deer in headlights, like he’s not sure what to do with me.
He gestures to the chair across from his desk. “Have a seat,” he says, like I’m a prospective new client instead of his own child.
I wheel my suitcase over and sit down. My dad reclaims the chair behind his desk, though he could just as easily have sat beside me. He clearly wants to keep some distance between us.