Page 35 of My Forbidden Boss

Charlie was near snoring but slid up to take another gulp of beer with his eyes still closed. “I know the feeling.”

Tisha

“Yes, returning Friday.”

“Okay, ma'am, here’s your parking pass. Just place that in your windshield and pull on through. There’s plenty of places to choose from, so take your pick. The elevator is busted… er… temporarily out of service, I mean, so I recommend parking on the lower level.”

“Great, thank you.”

I tossed the little tag on the dash and pulled beneath the flimsy gate as it raised. There were only three or four other cars to be seen, one of which probably belonged to the parking attendant.

I parked in the first spot and shivered as I stepped out of the car, quickly gathering my luggage and trotting out into the early morning light.

The airport was practically deserted, although I imagined that it looked that way pretty much all the time in a town this small. Only the ticket counter workers were present, and I approached, shaking the chill from my thin sweater.

“Hello, miss. Checking in?”

“Yes, it’s Tisha Crawford… C, R, A, W, F, O, R, D. It should be under business.”

The woman clicked at her keyboard, furrowed her brow, then seemed to have a moment of realization.

“Ah, I’m sorry, miss, but you work for the Fleming food company, do you not?”

The question seemed a little out of place. “Uh… yeah, that’s right.”

She nodded and walked slightly to the side, pulling a piece of paper from a stack on a clipboard. She studied it for a moment, then smiled and walked back to present it for me to see.

“Yes, here it is: Crawford, Tisha M. Do you know someone named Tony? They left a message from your offices that said to cancel your reservations, including those for your connecting flights and return journey. It says here, for you, ‘We’re sorry for the surprise or any inconvenience, but sometimes we forget that the company recently purchased its own plane. It should be much more comfortable, and you won’t have to worry about connections or layovers. Enjoy some champagne on the company, waiting on the plane for your trip to Wyoming.’”

It was a lot to take in during such a short message. I looked at the airline worker, who simply shrugged. “Sorry, miss, but I’m just the messenger. It does seem strange that they didn’t inform you earlier, but, then again, I’m sure that it will be a much more pleasant experience.”

I processed the change in plans, coming to pretty much the same conclusion.

“Uh… yeah, okay. Can you tell me which gate I need to go to, or is there a boarding pass of some kind? It doesn’t say anything about a change in departure time, does it?”

She shook her head patiently several times as I continued my list of questions.

“No, ma'am. There are no gates at this airport; it’s a little too small to warrant such things. We only have smaller, regional aircraft come through… never the big jumbo jets. Since yours is a private departure, it will either be waiting on the tarmac with a set of stairs leading into the cabin or in the company hangar, with the same manner of boarding. Let’s see… There is no boarding pass since whoever may board the private aircraft is fully at the discretion of its pilot, owner, et cetera. And there is no mention of a departure time. In fact, let me check. Yes, I show the company in the departure ledger for… hmm, the same time as was scheduled for your tickets with the airline.”

I nodded, listening, and absorbing. “Okay, so, do I need to go through security, or…”

Again, she shook her head. “No, Miss… uh… Crawford. So, you will go right around this corner here, keep going straight, and then you will see a security officer at the rear of the building. He should be standing somewhere in front of the big pair of white double doors. He will check your identification and radio your pilot, who should confirm your permission to board. The security officer will show you the way after that, but it will just be out those doors and, like I said, either to the tarmac or to the company hangar.”

It didn’t take long for me to walk from one point to another. Soon I was back in the chilly morning air, pulling my bags behind me and bracing myself against the bitter cold blowing in from the west.

I approached the hangar that the security guard had indicated mid-yawn, feeling the warmth of the building’s interior lights hit me as I neared the massive open doors.

“Miss Crawford?”

“Yes, uh… that’s me.”

“Hi, let me take those for you. Are there any of these that you would like to have with you during the flight?”

“Just my purse, if that’s okay.”

“Of course. I’ll just stow these away, and you can feel free to go ahead up the stairs whenever you are ready. I’ve had it warming up in there for about an hour now, so it should be nice and toasty.”

“Oh, thank you. It is rather frigid out this morning.”

---