“Mr. G said he’s sending his plane for you tomorrow. Apparently his pilot and copilot have some special knowledge of the latest aviation weather report, and you should be ready to travel with no weather concerns.”

Tomorrow?

She hadn’t even packed, nor had she mentally prepared herself for a flight. It wasn’t her favorite mode of travel, but it beat driving any day. “Did he give a specific time?”

“His office will call me half an hour before they land, so that should give you plenty of time to get to the airport.”

“Are you serious? Asheville is over two hours from here, longer in this weather.”

“Don’t get your undies in a wad. They’re flying into Fallen Springs. I think it’s called Mountain Aviation, a small airport there. According to the map on my phone, you’re twenty minutes away. With traffic and bad weather. Ten on a good day. I tried each scenario on Google Maps, just so you know.”

Lauren hadn’t even considered the local airport. She thought it was for small planes. “Are you sure?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t be calling you if I weren’t,” Angela quipped. “Make sure you dress like a professional. You might make more of an impression if you try to look your age.”

Lauren laughed. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

“It’s a compliment,” Angela said.

The young girl at the reception desk cleared her throat.

“Hang on again,” Lauren said, then directed her attention to the girl.

“Dr. Melloh will be in your neighborhood in forty-five minutes tops, he said. Will that work?”

“That’s perfect. So I can take the cats home tomorrow, then?”

“If the inspection goes well, sure,” said the girl.

Lauren asked, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Brandy,” she said.

“Then I thank you, Brandy, for rearranging his schedule for me.”

“Hey, it’s all good. Now I’m guessing I’ll see you sometime tomorrow?”

“Count on it,” Lauren said, then dashed outside to her car. The engine cranked over right away, and the heated air from the vents soon warmed her.

“You still there?” Lauren asked, putting Angela on speaker. She needed both hands on the wheel.

“I’m here.”

Lauren drove carefully down Oak Street. Even though it wasn’t snowing, she felt the Honda’s tires straining to keep traction. “So, you trust this guy? The weather and all?” Lauren asked, inching down the street at ten miles per hour. “I don’t like to fly as it is.”

“You won’t even know you’re in an airplane. From what I hear, Mr. G’s plane is luxury at its finest. We’re not talking puddle jumper here. We’re talking a 777, probably more decked out than Air Force One. I’ve heard it holds a Rolls Royce, too.”