Often (Book Two)

Chapter 7

Hanni

"What do you mean grounded?" I said, gaping at the woman on the other side of the counter. She was about my age, with freckled cheeks and strawberry-blond hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. She also looked like she was two seconds from strangling me and every other person in the international terminal at LaGuardia.

"Unfortunately we've just been informed of a mechanic union strike," she said flatly. "All Provence Airlines flights in and out of the airport have been canceled. We're terribly sorry for the inconvenience."

Well, she didn't sound very sorry. I continued to stare, blinking rapidly as her words sunk in. "Excuse me, what?"

She arranged her features into a tight, practiced smile. "All flights have been canceled due to the strike." I glanced over her shoulder to the Provence Airlines departure and arrival screens. Sure enough, CANCELED was emblazoned across each line.

"You're telling me I'm stuck here? Why didn't anyone tell me this in Chicago?"

"We'd be happy to help you make accommodations for the night—"

"No no no, that's impossible. Please, check again."

"Ma'am, as I told you, there are no Provence Airlines flights taking off or landing. You can check with the other airlines to see if they can accommodate you. There's nothing else I can do."

I groaned, letting my forehead fall to the counter. Minji was waiting for me, probably sitting outside in the sun at this very moment, laptop open and working like the overachieving loser she was. God, she turns me on.

"This can't be happening," I said, straightening and giving the attendant the most pleading expression I could muster. "The sweetest jackass in the world is waiting for me in France and I can't screw this up!"

"Okaaaay," she said, clearing her throat and straightening a stack of papers.

I was doomed. "How long?" I asked.

"There's no way to tell. Obviously they'll try and resolve the issue as soon as possible, but it could be one day, it could be more."

Well, that was helpful.

With a dramatic sigh and a few muffled swear words I dragged myself from the counter, in search of a quiet corner to call my assistant. Oh, and to text Minji. This was not going to go over well.

The phone rang within seconds.

I maneuvered through the crowd, through the throngs of stranded passengers taking up virtually every flat surface in the Provence Airlines terminal, and stopped at a tiny alcove near the restrooms.

"Hi."

"What the fuck do you mean 'stuck in New York'?!" she shouted.

I winced, pulling the phone from my ear before taking a much-needed calming breath.

"It means exactly what you think it means. We've been grounded, no flights in or out. I'm having a few people check with Delta and a few other airlines, but I'm sure everyone else has already done that, too."

"This is unacceptable!" she roared. "Do they know who you are? Let me talk to someone."

I laughed. "Nobody here knows or cares who I am. Or you for that matter."

She was silent for a moment, long enough that I actually looked to see if I'd dropped the call. I hadn't. The sound of birds singing filled the line, a wind chime off in the distance. When she finally did speak, it was in that low, steady voice I'd become so accustomed to. The one that still sent goose bumps along my skin. The one she used when she meant business.