Chapter EightWestJet flew directly to Edmonton from Palm Springs. Timothie sighed and relaxed in the window seat in Economy Class. His long legs were cramped under the seat ahead. He startled as his phone played “Dixie.”
“Timothie Hill.”
“It's Reg, Timothie. I'm at work at TopStrategy Marketing. They've made me marketing director.”
“You must be doing something right.” Timothie made doodles on the face of his phone. The flight attendant clucked when she saw his Gucci bag stored improperly under the seat.
“Is your phone in airplane mode, sir?” the attendant asked. “We're going to leave the ground soon. About your bag…” She gestured, and he shoved it further under the seat with his foot.
“Soon,” Timothie said. “Reg, I've got to go. My plane's about to take off.”
“Where are you?”
“Leavi
