Charlotte had come from humble beginnings. Her father had been the groundskeeper for Myra’s family farm. During the Civil War, the farmhouse had been a way station for the Underground Railroad, and the tunnels beneath it had remained ever since. There had also been a few small outbuildings, which had served as sheds and feeding stations over the years.

She, Myra, and Annie would sit in one of the old sheds and tell each other stories. That was when Myra had first encouraged Charlotte to start writing, which had led to her becoming a very successful author of children’s books. She had married, had a daughter, divorced, and kept writing. All through that time, Myra had been building her own empire, Mary-Ruth Candy, which had made her one of the wealthiest women in the country. That was when Charles had entered the picture.

Charles had recently relocated from the UK, with a résumé to rival James Bond’s, British accent included. However, if you saw the actual résumé, it would be redacted to the point that no information could be found on it. He had convinced Myra to hire him as head of security for her company, assuring her he could handle all her needs. At the time, little had Myra realized he really meant all of them.

Charlotte was going through each of the women in her head. There was Nikki, Myra’s adopted daughter. Thank goodness for Nikki. After Myra’s daughter, Barbara, was killed, Myra tumbled into a deep depression, until one day she seemed to have awoken from the pit of despair and had a new lease on life. Perhaps that was what Charlotte was feeling now: a new lease.

Then there was Annie. Anna Ryland de Silva. The countess. What a hoot she was. Annie and Myra had been friends even before Charlotte met them, but they had always made her feel welcome. Annie was wealthy beyond anyone’s imagination. Some said she was the richest woman in the world. Maybe she was. And she seemed to know everyone, as well. Quite the mover and shaker but unassuming. She and Myra both dressed the way you would expect a housewife from Queens or Staten Island to dress. Except for maybe those rhinestone boots that Annie affected.

Charlotte didn’t know the rest of the girls well. She had met a few, but it was always in a large social or business setting. She knew about most of their backgrounds and the crazy accusations that they were a vigilante group. Charlotte could not comprehend that her dear friend would be doing something so controversial, although it did sound exciting.

The plane departed on time, and after two glasses of bubbly, Charlotte was given a blanket and pillow and dozed off for the duration of the flight.