NanoWriMo 2022

And Place it in My Heart

American Kingdom Day 33

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The first time ever I saw Seth Adamson he was standing at the end of a jetbridge, hand outstretched, a trim figure in suit and tie, an AENA identity badge clipped to his lapel.

Years later, I asked him if the badge had been genuine. He smiled and replied that with the right attitude, a note scrawled on a sheet of letterhead paper was genuine.

“All you need is confidence and a good story,” he said.

“Yes, but was it genuine?”

There was that familiar sparkle in his eyes. “Would I lie to you?”

For now, he greeted we three fresh sergeants. “Seth, Viscount Washington.”

Goodness, a viscount. How did I address a viscount? Come on, Molly. It was only a few hours ago Duke Francis went through all this.

I looked at Nathan for inspiration. He was looking at me.

Hazel came to the rescue.

“My Lord, Sergeant Wandurn.” She indicated us. “And Sergeants Aizle and Freytag.”

He shook hands with each of us. By now the Economy passengers were streaming out.

“Come, let us go. We have two hours before our flight. Business tickets for all.”

He turned and led us away to where a pair of golf-cart sized vehicles awaited. He ushered Annie and Oscar aboard one and when he saw we lower ranks safely seated on the other, he stepped in beside the driver of the first and we were off down the halls of an unfamiliar airport.

It looked a good deal more welcoming than the below-decks tour of DFW we had received last night. I felt a bit of a goose for being chauffeured around like an old lady, but hey, life in the Kingdom came with perks, it seemed.

“Nathan,” Hazel said, “How was your flight in the lap of luxury?”

“Slept all the way through,” he offered. “At least in between the scrumptious dinner and the delicious breakfast. You may have heard my drunken snoring all the way at the back of the bus?”

“No, they gave us noise-canceling headphones.”

“Oh good, I’d hate to offend anyone. Hey, you get a chance, try their cava. It’s really good.”

Nathan as a wine critic. Right.

“It wasn’t offered,” I said. “Not without the money, anyway.”

You want to lose a buzz quickly, work out the credit card fee charged to Americans on a European airline 40,000 feet up, plus the connection cost and oh, my living God, the conversion to Euros.

I won’t say we sped past everyone else in the terminal — we were never going to win at speedway in these things — but it sure beat walking. Air terminals can be daunting places if you’ve got to make your next connection in ten minutes at Gate 44 and you are at Gate 1.

We had two hours, apparently, so what was the hurry? I for one wouldn’t have minded looking through some of the duty-free stores we were not-quite-whipping past. Then again, if our next leg was Business Class, I wasn’t going to complain. It wasn’t like I was paying for this, now was I?

We came to an unimpressive halt outside one of these stores. My prayers had been answered.

Seth extracted boarding passes from his suit jacket and distributed them. Mine was marked Grupo 1, which looked promising.

“Passports, everybody? Please show them.”

We dutifully extracted our passports and waved them at him.

“Good. Everyone this way, please.”

He led us through the store to a door signed as the Premium Lounge Velázquez.

I’d heard of these places. Somewhere to stock up on free food and drink, recharge the devices, relax before the flight. Occasionally there had been a USO center for active duty service members. Coffee and donuts and some amenities. There was one at DFW, I remembered.

Neither had featured in my life for a dozen years. Travel of any kind had dwindled down to pedalling around Charleston. Now here I was riding in limos, private bizjets, and comfy seats at the front of the plane.

We showed our boarding passes to the lady at the desk. She scanned the codes and waved us through. Just like that.

Inside, quite a large and airy space. Great views out over the ramp and runways.

“Right,” Seth said. “Snack bars at either end, serve yourselves. Bars likewise, it’s all free, no need to tip the help. Sit down restaurant over there — heartily recommend — bathrooms and showers there, otherwise sit anywhere. There are power and USB outlets at most seats. If you go out into the terminal, make sure you take your boarding pass with you so you can return. There are lockers near the reception desk for your bags. Keep an eye on the clock. Our flight to Tel Aviv leaves at five and boarding will likely commence about twenty minutes before then. Right now, I need to have a private talk with these three.”

He indicated Oscar, Annie and Hazel.

Oh, we two actual warriors were spare wheels.

“Come on, Molly,” Nathan said. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Last of the big spenders, hey?”

“Likely they have some decent beer here.”

Tempting. But no. Besides, I had the feeling that I might be fairly fragrant down below and the last thing I wanted was to fill the poor boy’s nose up with pheromones while he was filling himself up on free alcohol.

“Sorry, Nathan, I need to freshen up. I don’t want to get to this place looking like I’ve flown halfway around the world and boy are my arms tired.”

“Oh.” He looked disappointed.

“Why don’t you do the same? You look like you could use a shave. We can have lunch or dinner or whatever it is here after. I’m sure they’ll serve us beer with food.”

Or some of this supposedly yummy cava stuff that so far hadn't made its way in my direction.

For now, I needed a shower, and I needed to think. We were headed for Tel Aviv. In Israel. Was the Palace really in the Holy Land?

Next chapter:

The whole story:

Notes

Probably worth keeping an eye on Seth!

I’m looking forward a bit here. My story is set in the present time — immediately post-Covid, first Biden term — so any mention of “years later” is as much a stretch for the writer as it is for the reader to accept that there will be years to come.

Molly