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Were they taking this jet again? Eve’s brow furrowed.
The Gulfstream was right in front of them now. Adam raised a hand to acknowledge the tug operator, and presently, the plane glided right on by.
OK, this was getting confusing. Last time, they had gone to the FBO with its elegant lounge, and someone had driven them in a golf cart to the plane.
Adam eased the Mercedes into a reserved spot that sported the LarsAir logo. Underneath the logo, she readA. Larssen, CEO.
He opened the car door for her again and led her toward the giant doors of the LarsAir hangar, which immediately began to slide open with a loud, mechanical rumble that sounded like a freight train.
As they did, a brightly illuminated interior gradually came into view. Several gleaming jets of different sizes, all sporting the familiar LarsAir paint scheme, caught the sunlight, parked on an immaculate,polished white floor.
This had to be his fleet. It was spectacular.
“We’re taking one of these?”
“Indeed, we are.”
Wondering which jet would take them to their mystery destination, Eve read the different tail numbers, all ending inLA.
A thin, tanned, elderly man rounded a plane and sauntered toward them, wiping his hands on a grease-stained rag.“Hey, kid.”
“Hey, Tim. This is Eve. Eve, Tim, our top aircraft mechanic. He’s been with Lars since the beginning.”
“Hello.”
Tim gave her a courteous nod and motioned with his chin toward the hangar.“Ready for Adam’s mosquito wagon?”
Eve gave Tim a blank stare and looked up at Adam.
His lips twitched.“It’s what they call a small plane in Alaska. Betty is good to go, I take it, Tim?”
Tim grinned, revealing surprisingly perfect teeth.“Always. I make sure of that.”
“Thanks. You’re the man.”
“Great day for flying,” Tim commented.
Adam gazed up at the cloudless blue sky.“Every day is a great day for flying.”
The purr of a motor caught Eve’s attention. She looked behind her to see a smaller tug inch out of the far end of the hangar, pulling a tiny two-door plane, the kind with wings affixed on top of the fuselage.
On the tail, Eve spotted a much different version of the LarsAir logo, all gold, featuring a detailed image of mountains. It was styled like emblems she had seen from the 1950s.
Next to the sleek jets, this one looked out of place. Shiny and small, royal blue with white wings and roof, it reminded Eve of a child’s toy.
Eve turned to Adam, but his attention was on the approaching tug, his body charged with excitement.
And he was beaming at that plane the way a little boy would look at a favorite pet.
“What plane is that?” Eve asked.
The tug passed them, halting just before the propeller reached Adam’s shoulder.
“This,” Adam said, running a hand lovingly over a drawing on the side of the nose,“is Betty.”
“So, Betty is a little plane.”
Eve studied the painted replica of the famous Betty Grable pinup, the one where she smiled provocatively over her shoulder in a satin leotard, her long, perfect legs on full display.