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NINETY MINUTES OUTSIDE of Nice, Dahlia woke to jarring turbulence as the plane flew through thundershowers. As she was jostled about, she tightened her seatbelt and gripped her seat. After a half an hour, the seatbelt sign mercifully flashed off.
She rubbed sleep from her eyes and eased her aching limbs from the cramped confines of her coach class seat, which was all she could get on short notice. With thoughts of visiting the hospital where she’d been born prevalent in her mind, she’d slept fitfully during the fourteen-hour flight.
The flight attendant served coffee, and Dahlia gulped a tepid cup. Afterward, she freshened up as well as she could in the tiny in-flight lavatory. A meeting with the Formula 1 Team Dubois representatives had been scheduled for soon after she arrived, so
