She Snapped, "Can You Keep Your Boy Quiet?" on the Private Jet — Until She Grabbed His Folder and the Pilot Stepped Out of the Cockpit

She Snapped, "Can You Keep Your Boy Quiet?" on the Private Jet — Until She Grabbed His Folder and the Pilot Stepped Out of the Cockpit

Chapter 1

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The private terminal at Des Moines had a fireplace that wasn't lit, a bowl of green apples nobody ate, and a television tuned to a weather channel with the sound off. Celeste Varga stood beside the window with her back to all of it, phone pressed to her ear, watching a line of rain move across the far end of the runway like a gray curtain being drawn by a slow hand.

"Then tell me what a hydraulic actuator costs," she said, "and I'll buy two."

On the other end, the director of flight operations for Halden Beauty explained, for the third time, that the problem was not money. The problem was a part, and the part was in Wichita, and the mechanic certified to install it was in Wichita too, and the company's Gulfstream was going to sit in a hangar in Des Moines until at least Thursday regardless of what anyone was willing to pay.

"I present to the board at nine tomorrow morning," Celeste said. "In Boston. Do you understand what happens if I present to the board by video link from Iowa?"

He seemed to understand. He was very sorry. Celeste ended the call without saying goodbye, which was not rudeness so much as efficiency, and turned to find Jonah Bell standing three feet behind her with the expression of a young man who had already solved the problem and was waiting to be allowed to say so.

"I found a seat," he said.

"A seat."

"On a charter. A Citation, leaving at four-fifteen, wheels down at Hanscom by eight-thirty Eastern. It's a shared flight. They sell the open seats at cost." He held up his tablet as if she might want to read it. She didn't. "It's the only thing going east tonight that isn't a commercial connection through O'Hare."

Celeste looked at the rain, then at the bowl of green apples. Twenty-six years in the cosmetics business had taught her that most problems were solved by whoever was willing to accept the second-best option fastest.

"Fine," she said. "Who else is on it?"

Jonah glanced down at the screen. Something passed over his face, a small hesitation, there and gone. "A family. A dad and his kid. And us."

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She Snapped, "Can You Keep Your Boy Quiet?" on the Private Jet — Until She Grabbed His Folder and the Pilot Stepped Out of the Cockpit

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