When the limo stopped in front of her apartment building precisely at 4:15 PM, Maddy pushed open the front door with her bulging suitcase in tow. An overnight bag would have been the practical choice, but having spent more than three hours sorting through her wardrobe, she packed almost everything she owned. She knew she would pay dearly upon her return when she'd confront eight torturous flights of stairs but she had other far more pressing worries.

The limo driver, a middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed mustache and graying temples, rolled down the window and shouted from the curb, "You Madison Taylor?"

"Yeah. That's me."

"Be careful on that sidewalk. Looks slippery." He popped the trunk.

Struggling with her suitcase, she asked, "So, you're not--"

He rolled up the window.

"Sure wasn't expecting that." She gritted her teeth with determination. Venturing carefully onto the slick sidewalk, she made slow progress toward the vehicle, one cautious step at a time.

He rolled down the window. "You mind moving a little faster? You don't wanna miss your flight."

Picking up her pace as she approached the rear of the limo, Maddy nearly did a split when she hit a patch of ice.

"You should talk to your landlord about this sidewalk," he said. "Somebody could get hurt."

Maddy strained to lift her suitcase into the trunk. She propped herself against the bumper then, with her face red from exertion, she muscled the suitcase in on the second try. She slammed the trunk, clung to the polished vehicle on her way to the passenger door, then plunged into the limo's tan leather interior. 

"Boy, that sure looked heavy," the driver said.

"It is." She buckled her seatbelt.

"You got nobody in your building to help you? That doesn't seem very neighborly."

"You know," Maddy sighed. "When you see somebody getting picked up by a limo on TV, the driver carries the bags."

"You see flying horses on TV, too, but I don't see any horses flying around Manhattan." He chuckled at his own joke.

"I wish I was on a flying horse right now."

He bit into a sweet roll and, as he steered away from the curb he offered an open box. "You wanna pastry?" There were only two Danish, both looking as though they were ripped out of the mouth of a ravenous dog.

"Leftover from this morning?"

He shrugged. "Who said pastry was just a morning thing?"

"I'll pass." She looked down at her sensible shoes and thought, "Maybe I should have packed heels. What if everyone else is wearing heels except me?" 

"You in the mood for some music?" he said through a mouthful of Danish. "Maybe some Christmas songs will cheer you up."

"Cheer me up?"

"You seem sorta grumpy if you don't mind me saying so."

"I'm just a little nervous about the flight."

"You know, it's ten times more likely that we die in a crash on the way to the airport than your plane going down."

"That's not what I meant. I'm not scared--"

"Probably twenty times. Look at the way these maniacs drive." Crawling along in slow-moving Riverside Drive traffic on their way to George Washington Bridge, he said, "We could be stopped at a light when a truck comes barreling around the bend, and WHAM! We'd be sitting ducks. Burnt to a crisp." He blasted some Christmas music and sang along. "Pa-rump-pum-bum-bum!"

"Can we lose the music?" Maddy shouted over the radio.

"Huh?"

"Turn off the music, please."

He mumbled something about "grumpy" then turned off the radio.

As they approached the airport, Maddy craned her neck for a better view. "I thought we were going to LaGuardia."

"Davenport flies out of Teterboro. Keep your eyes open. You might see some celebrities."

"Really?"

"Last week I saw the Beatles."

"I don't think so."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was them. They looked very British."

"Nope. Not the Beatles."

"Sure looked like them."

"Only two of them are still living."

"Oh? When did that happen?"

She rolled her eyes.

At the Teterboro Airport gate, the driver presented his driver's ID, then got directions from the guard. He drove across the airfield to the Davenport jet, a Gulfstream G200.

When the limo approached the plane, the driver popped the trunk. "Wow. Fancy," he said, then waved goodbye. "Have a nice flight."

A baggage handler retrieved Maddy's suitcase, walked to the plane, and stowed the luggage. "Right this way, Miss," he said, offering his hand and escorting Maddy up the plane's stairs.

She poked her head inside and was struck by the wide plush leather recliners on either side of the aisle. George put down his phone and stood. "Welcome aboard." He'd discarded his suit jacket and he'd rolled his crisp white sleeves halfway up his forearms. She was experiencing sensory overload, equally taken with the luxurious plane and with George.

"Where is everyone?" she asked, averting her gaze to hide the obvious look of infatuation in her eyes. 

"Shira is in Europe and Jimmy's somewhere in the islands. I'm afraid it's just you and me, Madison. And the flight crew."

"Please call me Maddy."

"Dropping the formalities. I like that."

"Where do I..."

"Sit anywhere you like."

She unwrapped the scarf from her neck and, as she began slipping her arms from the sleeves of her coat, felt him behind her providing assistance. He smelled like pine with a hint of the subtle fragrance of poppies.

"No snow in San Francisco," George said. "As a matter of fact, I think the forecast is predicting sixty-two degrees today."

"I'll take it."

A tall, thin woman with swept-back hair stepped out of the cockpit. "Would anyone care for a quick refreshment before we depart?"

"This is Rebecca," said George. 

"Nice to meet you," Maddy said. "Nothing for me. I'm good."

"Okay, then," Rebecca replied. Take your seats and buckle up. We'll be departing shortly."

George glanced out the window as the limo pulled away. "My usual driver called off last night. His wife went into labor. How was your driver?"

"Wouldn't be my first choice."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Hopefully, it's a smooth ride from here on in."

When he smiled at her she was sure he could hear her heart pounding.

Two hours later, Maddy's eyes went from her laptop to gazing out her window, watching the cloud formations. Across the aisle, George worked at his computer.

Rebecca emerged from the crew cabin. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Is it too early in the day for a glass of wine?" Maddy asked.

"When you're in the air crossing timezones," said George, "It's any time of the day you want it to be." 

Maddy almost said "Moscato," but caught herself. "Do you have a Zinfandel?"

"I believe so," Rebecca replied.

"Zinfandel sounds good," George said. "Maddy, did you have a big breakfast?"

"I'm not really hungry."

"Not interested in lunch?"

She shook her head.

He said to Rebecca, "Do we have any of those dark chocolate brownies?"

"I believe we do."

"Good. Dark chocolate and red wine. Healthiest meal on the planet."

Maddy replied, "Can't argue with science."