by Holly Rayner
“Teterboro, Miss.”
“I’ve never heard of that airport,” she said, trying to sound calm.
“It’s a private airport. Your accommodations are more than adequate, I assure you, Miss Galtieri.”
Gaby pulled out her phone and immediately looked up Teterboro airport. To her surprise and relief, it was a real place. In fact, it was an airport designed solely for private jets. For the millionth time in the past day, she wondered just what she’d gotten herself into.
The car pulled into the small airport. Sleek private jets were parked along the tarmac, all beneath the glow of a large white terminal building. Gaby’s driver parked and exited the car, opening the trunk as Gaby got out and accepted the proffered backpack from him.
He stared at her for a moment as she stood still. “Can I help you with anything else, miss?” he asked.
He was shorter than Gaby, which wasn’t unusual; she tried not to frown as she looked down at him. “I’m not sure where to go,” she answered, glancing around hesitantly.
The man nodded. “Right this way, miss.”
Gaby followed her driver to the small terminal, where she was led to a kiosk. A brunette woman with a cleanly combed ponytail smiled across the counter at her. “Good evening, ma’am. How can I assist you tonight?”
“My name is Gaby Galtieri—”
“Ah, Miss Galtieri! We’ve been expecting you. I will let your pilot know you have arrived. He should be ready for takeoff within thirty minutes.”
“Okay…” Gaby said, unsure of what else to say.
“Please feel free to take a seat in our lounge while you wait. You’ll find some tea and coffee available, if you’d like.”
“Thank you,” Gaby said, smiling at the woman and turning to her driver.
“And thank you for helping me.”
The driver nodded. “A pleasure, miss. Have a wonderful evening,” he said before turning on his heel and heading back to his car.
Gaby walked over to a small, chic little waiting area. The sofas were soft and plush, and a Keurig coffee machine was perched on a marble-topped table, accompanied by a rack of a wide assortment of teas and flavored hot chocolates. Gaby was about to choose a nice chamomile when a pilot approached the seating area with an outstretched hand.
“Signorina Galtieri? I am your pilot, Giacomo Bambini. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Gaby shook the man’s hand. He was older, and definitely Italian. His hair was black with streaks of distinguished gray, and his face was no less handsome for being aged. He wore a kind expression, and Gaby found that she liked him instantly.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Gaby said with a warm smile.
“We’re just about ready for takeoff, if you would you like to board, miss? Weather conditions are good, so we should make excellent time.”
“I would, thank you.”
Giacomo released Gaby’s hand before leading her out of the terminal and onto the cool tarmac. Gaby could see her breath in the air in front of her, and she looked forward to the warmth of the plane. When Giacomo stopped in front of a white jet, Gaby’s breath caught in her throat.
The plane was stunning. Was the Italian government really treating her to such an experience? If they wanted better U.S. relations, this was certainly a good way to do it.
Giacomo gestured to the open cabin door. “Please head on in, Miss Galtieri. I’ll just finish my final checks, and once we’re clear we can take off right away.”
“Thanks again,” Gaby said gratefully, taking the steps one at a time as she held carefully onto the railing.
When she got inside, she allowed herself a full-on gasp. The interior of the airplane was stunning. The seats were a cream-colored leather, and there was a small bar stocked with gourmet cheeses, crackers and small bottles of wine.
Gaby took a seat in one of the chairs, tossing her bag on the seat next to her. She still smelled like the restaurant, and regretted not having the time to take a shower.
Moments later, Giacomo poked his head back from the pilot’s area. “We’re ready to take off! If you feel sleepy during the flight, the side button there will recline your seat into a bed.”
“Wow, really?” Gaby asked, and Giacomo laughed.
“Really, really. Now sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride!”
Gaby grinned at the pilot as his head disappeared, and seconds later the engine rumbled into life. The plane lurched forward, engines blazing as the wheels lost contact with the tarmac and the jet rose into the air. Gaby watched as the lights of New York City glittered beneath her, before disappearing behind them.
Pressing the button down, she stretched as her seat not only reclined all the way back, but also folded outwards, creating a perfect little bed. It was extremely comfortable, and Gaby yawned, still exhausted from her restless sleep the night before. She found a cashmere blanket in a small drawer beneath her chair, covered herself up and snuggled into her little bed. It didn’t take long before she fell fast asleep.
SIX
Gaby was dreaming.
She was wearing a beautiful ball gown, and she was dancing with a handsome stranger. The music played on, and she laughed at a joke he was telling when she felt a tap on her shoulder.
“May I have this dance?” a voice asked.
Gaby turned and looked up—which was unusual for her—into the golden hazel eyes of the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
“You may,” she said, ever the graceful one.
She smiled warmly at the man as he placed his hand in hers, and the two of them waltzed around the ballroom, everyone looking on.
“You look stunning,” the man whispered into her ear.
His warm breath made her shiver with awareness, and Gaby fought to remember the steps, lest she embarrass herself.
“As do you,” she murmured, and the man looked down at her with a grin.
“You’re waking up now, Gaby.”
“What?” she asked, unaware that she was dreaming.
“Goodbye,” the man said, kissing her on the cheek before walking away.
“Wait!” Gaby cried. Her ears began to pop, and she pulled at them in frustration. “What on earth…”
Gaby shot upward, almost hitting her head against the low ceiling of the cabin. She took a breath, remembering where she was and what was going on. The plane was beginning its descent, which explained the popping in her ears. As she gazed out the window, Gaby caught her first glimpse of the autumnal Tuscan countryside as rows and rows of vineyards came into view. Looking ahead, she could see the red-bricked rooftops of Florence, and her heart began to flutter with excitement.
All of this had been real! She really was in Italy. It occurred to her then that they hadn’t even checked for her passport. Wasn’t that odd? Did it really matter, since she was landing in Italy any minute?
Her blood raced as she fought to contain her excitement, and, if she were honest, her fear. Gaby hadn’t realized until now just how sheltered she’d always been as the youngest of four children. It was annoying.
The plane cruised towards a small airport, touching down softly on the tarmac. Gaby looked at the time, surprised to see her phone had already updated to Florence’s time zone, and that it was already afternoon.
The plane glided along the runway like a graceful swan, finally coming to a stop near another small terminal. Giacomo peeked back.
“Good afternoon, Miss Galtieri! Welcome to Florence. Or, should I say: benvenuti a Firenze!”
Gaby smiled. “Grazie,” she said in her best Italian accent.
Giacomo grinned. “Might need a little work on the accent, miss. You’ll get it, though.”
Gaby grinned back. “I’ll certainly try. Thank you for a wonderful flight, Giacomo.”
“Certo, miss. Allow me to open up the cabin, and we can get you on your way.”
Gaby watched as Giacomo’s face disappeared only to reappear at the door as it opened.
Grabbing her backpack and a few crack
ers for the road, Gaby exited the plane and took a deep breath. The air was crisp and clean. It smelled of vegetation, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint what type. Gaby was a city girl after all, and had never been to the countryside. It was a scent she couldn’t place, but it was wonderful nevertheless.
“This way, miss,” Giacomo said, guiding her toward the terminal.
When they entered, Gaby was greeted by the scent of baking pastries and the sound of fast-paced Italian conversations. The people were dressed to the nines, their clothes seemingly way out of her price range. The women all had perfect makeup and hair, and the men were dressed in sharp, tailored suits. Gaby ran a self-conscious hand along her old pea coat and continued to follow Giacomo. He led her to a line of drivers who were holding up signs.
“Ah, there’s your man, miss,” Giacomo said, gesturing toward a young blond man who was holding a sign with her name on it.
Gaby turned back to Giacomo. “Thanks again for such a smooth flight, Giacomo—and for guiding me toward my next journey.”
“Always happy to help a beautiful young lady,” Giacomo said with a wink. “Have a wonderful time in Italy.”
“I will,” she said, already keeping that promise.
There was an essence, a feeling about Italy that she instantly loved, but couldn’t describe. She would have to work on finding a way to explain it for Rosalie when she got back. She looked at her driver, then.
“Hi. I’m Gabriella Galtieri.”
“Buongiorno,” the driver said, followed by a stream of Italian. Having only ever learned enough to read off a menu, Gaby stared at him with a vacant expression.
The man finally realized she couldn’t understand and laughed before gesturing for her to follow him.
“Do you speak English?” Gaby asked, embarrassed.
She should have brushed up on her Italian, she knew. Then again, when had she had the time? She’d always been a little sad that her grandmother hadn’t spoken Italian to them growing up. Like many immigrant families, she wanted her children to speak English and be American, and so the language had died on her tongue. The driver frowned.
“A little bit. ‘Hamburger.’”
So that was that. Her driver was also a menu reader only, apparently.
Gaby smiled at him and he smiled back as they headed to a long line of limousines, and he opened the door to a shiny black one.
“Please,” he said, the word heavily accented.
Gaby nodded her thanks and ducked into the limo. The seats were black, the ceiling lit with a thousand glittering stars. A small bar was on her right, but she ignored it in favor of her airplane crackers, taking only a small bottle of water. She felt a little woozy from her sleep, and it felt strange to be in the middle of the afternoon already, but she imagined that there was worse jet lag.
