𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭 || ᴊᴇɴʟɪsᴀ

𝐞 𝐥 𝐞 𝐯 𝐞 𝐧

Monday, I enjoyed a boozy lunch meeting with a potential client at Le Bernardin. It was one of those depressing smoggy NYC days, the claustrophobia of people and cars everywhere. The kind of day that made me long for the oppressive humidity of my unsophisticated rural hometown where the dominant sounds were neighbors four-wheeling, insects and people drinking on porches while swatting those insects.

I came back to my office, finalized an account and started spinning around in my chair—my favorite way of brainstorming. I placed a stockinged foot against the edge of my desk and pushed off for another revolution. I had an idea, perhaps because of increased intellect from the redistribution of blood to my brain. Maybe it was the booze from lunch.

I stood up, wobbled from the head rush and shoved my feet back into heels. My head was still spinning as I rushed out of my office, startling my PA.

I smiled an apology and launched in with, “Clare, I’d like to visit Mama for the weekend. Can you check Mark isn’t using the jet and organize it, please?”

My idea was a damned good one, I thought. A high five-figure salary, all expenses and a rarely-invoked contract clause meant our lead pilot could be called on at any time, including for personal trips. I happened to be involved with the lead pilot. Perhaps she might like to see a little of my hometown.

Clare made notes in her neat handwriting. “Of course. When would you like to depart?”

“Around five Friday afternoon. Back Sunday night no later than eight.”

“I’ll arrange it,” Clare assured me.

“Thank you.”

Forty minutes later, I was finalizing a buy when Clare knocked on my open door. “Ms. Kim?”

“Yes?” I glanced up, shoving hair off my face.

“Your three o’clock meeting Thursday has been brought forward to two and you’re all set for Friday afternoon. Chaerin will be here at four, and Captain Manoban will meet you at Teterboro at four forty-five. Then you’re scheduled to leave at six p.m. Sunday.”

Happy days. “Great, thanks. And you’ve—”

“Booked accommodation for Captain Manoban? Yes, the only available was the bed and breakfast on York.”

Good. Hotels in my hometown left a lot to be desired. I grinned. “This is why I keep you, Clare.”

She gave me a casual wave, but I could tell she was pleased. “I know. Your updated schedule through to the end of next week is on your calendar.”

“Thank you. Oh, can you send through a statement of my personal account for the month, please.”

“I’ll get right on that.” She slipped out, leaving me to check my schedule. My Wednesday meeting in Maine had been moved to tomorrow. Jesus. I had a fundraiser planning dinner tomorrow night in the Upper East Side, one I’d been dreading for weeks and I wanted to get a massage in the afternoon. I rushed out of my office, tablet clutched in hand. “Clare.”

She stood up at my approach. “Yes, Ms. Kim?”

“This schedule’s not going to work. I can’t do tomorrow in Maine and be back for my massage.” Usually I’d be borderline steaming but I was surprised to feel my frustration struggling to break the surface, like it’d lost buoyancy somehow. When had I become so mellow?

She nodded calmly. “You may have noticed Adrian’s agreed to move his meeting forward to ten. You’ll be back in the city by three and on the massage table at four.”

I ran through mental calculations. “Great. Thanks. Sorry.”

“I’ve just sent through your statement, including this weekend’s charges. Shall I tell the driver you’re ready for your appointment?” Clare glanced at the gold watch on her delicate wrist. “You’ll need to leave in ten minutes.”