The car drove me to the airport and dropped me off in the private planes section, pulling up outside a hangar. A Ken look-alike waited for me—similar greying hair, his hands folded in front of his dark blue suit, kind eyes warming as he nodded a small smile to me.
He held his hand out, gesturing toward a set of stairs that led to a private plane. “Ms. Bowman, I imagine?”
I nodded, still dazed from what Ken had said. “Uh, yeah.”
“The plane is prepped and ready. You’ll be landing at JFK shortly, and another car will be waiting for you there.” He bowed, just briefly. “Have a wonderful trip.”
“Uh.” I was still dazed. “Thank you.”
He didn’t tell me his name, but he took my small bag and carried it to a flight attendant waiting at the bottom of the stairs. I trailed after him, and as the at
