"I'll be sure to mention that to him, George," I said.

"Oh, I don't think that would be necessary, sir. I don't even know why I mentioned it. I'm retired now and I'm hoping it'll be a very long time before either the missus or I pass on. We have a lot of life to catch up with. Kids are wonderful and everything but a close relationship is something to be savored quietly, privately.

"You go have a fine day now, hear?" He continued, changing the subject.

"I sure will, George. It was a pleasure talking with you."

"Yeah, hem. Under different circumstances we could have talked about many other things I'm sure. Here, let me carry your luggage on for you."

Interesting comment, I thought but, "No thanks, George. That's okay. I'll get it. You go pick up the missus and take a nice long drive in your new toy."

"No doubt of that happening, sir," he said chuckling over my reference to the cab as a toy. "Already told her we were gonna drive down to see Paul, soon as I finished the job for Mr. Shasta. Have a good one." He finished, waving goodbye, as I moved away from the cab with my bag.

It was a hard-pack blacktop paved runway, only suitable for infrequent use. - Gilbert could have had it built just for that occasion.

The retractable stair-steps were unfolded and I climbed on up and into the plane. There to greet me was a most beautiful woman. Her long, dark (almost black) hair was pulled back behind tiny, delicate ears; and taper cut to just below her waist. Her height was somewhere between five-three, five-five. And she was thin. A petite dark eyed beauty. Her skin tone was of a typical Mediterranean semi-darkness. "Mr. Fontana," she said in greeting, while she gestured for me to hand her my bag. I did. She efficiently placed it in the closet just to the left of the entry.

As she turned back to face me she asked, "May I prepare a drink for you after takeoff?" My God, what a sexy voice she had, (Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert!) lightly sweet with a slight yet indefinable accent; which was all but lost on me because of her preemptive, business-like manner. I took a couple of moments to reconcile the differences between my desires, my expectations and my chances before I replied to her question, "Yes please, is there a choice of wine?"

"Yes there is. Aside from our usual stock, Mr. Shasta mentioned that you might be interested in making a choice from one of the two bottles he had delivered."

"Yes, he would do that wouldn't he?" I replied more to myself than to her. Gilbert knew how little I liked to fly. What better way to relax a man than to provide a beautiful woman to look at and a light alcoholic beverage to sip on.

"Is one of them a red?"

"Yes sir, one red and one white."

"I'll have the red. Just one glass please, and only a half glass at that. Flying makes me nervous, but I still want to be on top of things." I don't know why I bothered to justify my desire for the drink. I suppose it could have been her beauty. (It's a stupid thing some single men do when in the presence of a beautiful woman, whether we have a chance with her or not - We try to behave.)

"As you say sir, please take a seat and buckle in. We'll be taking off shortly," she said while gesturing for me to enter the main section of the plane.

True to the `Shasta' sense of style, it was far more than first class accommodations. The scene, as a whole, was a warm mixture of autumn colors and pastels, deep rich wood tones, with small yet distinctly noticeable accents of silver and gold. The carpet underfoot was a plush pile which gave a kind of bounce to the step. Its' color was that of rust/gold. One or the other, depending on which way it lay as the light caught it. Captains' chairs, made of lightly stained red oak and upholstered in autumn tones with velour, stood about the cabin like individuals. Each chair constructed similarly yet upholstered with a different autumn hue and or tone. There were nine of them, arranged about the cabin roughly in three groups of three. Along the far back wall was a crystal and walnut bookcase. The books were held in place by a wooden bar that could be dropped once the cabinet door was opened. At right angles to this, on the left, were a magazine stand and a small library of CD-VHRs. I looked up to find the projector and discovered that the apparatus hung from the ceiling neatly concealed by a decorative light fixture motif, echoing the rose fixture in the cab. To my right, as I entered the cabin, was a small galley, complete with an oven, stove, microwave, refrigerator, and an island cooking area that could easily double as a bar. Along the right wall above the appliances ran a short series of walnut cupboards overlaid with silhouette patterns of flowers, white oak over walnut; a single and distinct floral design for each door. (Mamma must not have been flying to Guam that day; hemmm, Gilbert?)

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