Peggy's cellphone rang as she drove home.
"This is Doctor Foreman," she answered on the hands-free.
"Doctor Foreman, my name is Monica Sanz. I will be piloting the aircraft Mr. Reiter has dispatched to Orlando for you. Do you have some time for me to ask just a few questions?"
Captain Sanz requested Peggy's home address which she located on Google Maps. Considering the little information Mr. Reiter had provided about the passenger, the captain was somewhat startled by the appearance of her passenger's residence on the satellite and street views, but decided it wasn't her concern, or any of her business.
"Ma'am, the airplane will be ready to depart at six o'clock tomorrow morning. You'll need to be aboard no later than 7:40. You're free to board anytime between. I will forward you the address to the facility from which we'll be departing. You'll have it within the hour. If you have any specific requests, please don't hesitate to mention them in a reply. You'll be served breakfast on the aircraft."
"Um, okay," Peggy sheepishly replied.
"Have a good evening, Doctor Foreman," the pilot said before disconnecting the call.
"What have I gotten myself into?" Peggy whispered to herself.
She pulled into her driveway just after 8:00pm and walked into her house. In her bedroom, she stared blankly in her closet, having no idea what to pack.
No luggage restrictions or fees. Yeah. It's a private freaking jet! Sheesh. Maybe I should just take everything.
Peggy spent a half-hour to settle on four different business suits, two with pants, two with skirts. She decided she'd be more comfortable flying in the light gray suit, so she left it on the rod and began packing a medium sized hard-side suitcase with other sundries and casual attire.
She heard her phone chime with an incoming iMessage. It was from Captain Sanz. Opening it, she found a geo-pin which, when tapped, opened Apple Maps. The pin was situated in the parking lot of a building directly adjacent to a large hangar.
The pilot had decided Orlando Executive Airport to be the most convenient facility to Peggy's residence which was also capable of servicing a Cessna Citation.
Peggy punched her address into the "From" field and was given a route estimating a twenty minute drive from her home. She set an alarm for 5:15 AM, only a half-hour earlier than any typical workday's. She finished packing, dressed for bed, turned out the lights, and stared at the ceiling for almost two hours before she finally fell asleep.
The next morning, Peggy had no problems locating the facility, though found the whole following experience to be disorienting. She'd never once flown in anything other than a typical commercial airliner, with all the annoying hustle and bustle, hurry-up and wait chaos.
As soon as she entered through the front doors at 6:45, a young man working the reception desk stood and approached her.
"Good morning, ma'am. May I help you?"
"I'm meeting a plane here, I think."
"May I have your name?"
"Doctor Margaret Foreman."
"You came to the right place. Please, follow me. Your plane and crew are standing by."
He relieved her of her suitcase, and she followed him down a long hallway to a fire door. She followed him into a world with which she was completely unfamiliar. She stepped into a cavernous hangar holding a half-dozen aircraft. Another was chocked immediately outside the high-bay doors. She saw an airplane, brightly lit, landing on a runway a few hundred yards distant. She could hear the high-pitched squeal of the parked plane's auxiliary power unit. Its plumes of heated air refracted the landscape behind the plane.
As the two neared the aircraft, a uniformed man approached her.
"Doctor Foreman?" he said with his volume raised to be heard over the sound of the aircraft's APU.
"Good morning," she acknowledged.
The receptionist handed her bag off to an individual who was wearing a bright yellow safety vest. The former turned and went back to the door they'd passed through, and the latter took her bag directly to the plane and stowed it.
"Right this way, ma'am," the uniformed man said, walking her to the airstairs.
No check-in lines, no baggage check, no taking shoes off for security, no body scans or x-rays of carry-ons. No lines anywhere, no hassles of any sort. Three minutes after closing her car's door, Peggy was escorted aboard the airplane.
A woman significantly older than herself, who bore four stripes on both epaulets of her well-tailored uniform, greeted her at the steps.
"Good morning, Doctor Foreman. I'm Captain Sanz. Welcome aboard."
The pilot gestured to the steps, and Peggy climbed in. She had to crouch slightly as the door and cabin were a bit too confined for her to stand fully upright.
"Ma'am, I'm Danny Harper, your host," the uniformed man said. "Please take whichever seat you prefer."
The cabin was configured to seat six with three seats on each side of a narrow aisle. The forward-most seats faced each other while the aft-most pair faced forward. Peggy chose the first plush leather seat which faced forward on the port side of the luxuriously appointed cabin. She removed her suit coat which Danny hung in a closet opposite the small galley. She watched the copilot pull the airstairs in. The interior was quieted.
"If you're comfortable, please buckle up," Danny said.
She did.
"Ready to head north, Doctor Foreman?" she heard from the cockpit.
"Yes, Captain," Peggy answered.
"This is a short hop. We'll have you in Atlanta in about an hour."
"Okay, thanks."
She chuckled at herself because, until that point in her life, the only words an on-duty pilot had ever spoken to her directly were
'buh-bye'
as she disembarked a commercial flight.
Not one minute later, the engines spooled up and the airplane began its taxi. It was airborne five minutes after she'd boarded.
The flight was comfortably smooth. Peggy considered the breakfast she was served to be beyond compare. The printed card describing it made Peggy's stomach growl because she was seldom one to shy away from exotic fare.
It consisted of an omelet of goose eggs, caribou sausage, Gruyere and Fontina cheeses. It was presented with the cutest little bottle of Tabasco sauce Peggy had ever seen. It was served with a toasted bagel alongside a small tub of cream cheese. A bowl of prepared berries rounded the meal, and a cup of gourmet coffee was provided which Danny kept full. He sat in the aftmost seat on the opposite side and checked in on her only a few times. He displayed the perfect balance of attentiveness without being obsequious.
He collected her tray just before she heard the landing gear deploy. Four minutes later, they were on the ground at Atlanta's Fulton County Airport, taxiing to another hangar.
Peggy's eyes widened when she saw Eric through her window. He was standing near a Mercedes-Benz, appearing as the man she saw in the photograph. Incredibly distinguished and impeccably attired, he exuded the same confidence and strength. He seemed so completely unlike the man with whom she'd spent a very pleasant day and a half.
She waved at him when his eyes found hers in the window, and he smiled and waved back. The settled to a stop, and its engines were shut down. She observed safety-vested people scurry around the plane before Danny came to fetch her.
As she walked down the short aisle, the pilot looked over her shoulder and said, "Have a pleasant morning, Doctor Foreman. We'll see you later this afternoon for the flight to Oklahoma City."
"Thank you, Captain Sanz," she responded before descending the airstairs.
As she stepped out of the door, she saw a crewman hoist her suitcase into the back of the Benz and close the trunk. The driver opened the passenger doors and waited. Eric stepped sprightly to the aircraft and offered his hand as Peggy reached the final step.
"Good lord, Eric, you look incredible. Is it really you in there?" she asked with an appreciative up-and-down survey.
