Thin Blood Thick Water (Clueless Resolutions Book 2) (2 page)

On a brisk Friday morning in early September Max’s mailbox contained his private pilot’s license for single engine light aircraft.  He was elated over the prospect of avoiding the arduous drive to East Wayford and entered Maggie’s number on his cell phone.

“Hi Max,” she answered. “What’s up with you?”

“Well, all of me will be up shortly…in the air that is.  My flying license came in the morning mail,” he said, in an up-beat mood.

“That’s great!” Maggie exclaimed. “Are you going to fly down here tonight?”

“I’m going over to the airstrip this afternoon to talk to Brad Charles about which of the planes is ready to go,” Max said. “I’ll call you when I get airborne, probably around 4:30. I’ve got to get going to the office now, I’ll catch you later.” Carrying his overnight bag, he hustled out to his run-about shuttle cart.

Maggie was anxious to find out how the flying was going to work out. She was not exactly thrilled at the thought of having to make those grueling drives to, and from, Lakeside. She had also agonized over the idea of Max’s having to spend six or more hours almost every weekend driving down to East Wayford and back.  She had driven up and back four times and, other than looking forward to spending time with Max, she found it to be a boring trip.  There were some long stretches through hilly woodlands where cell phone contact was less than reliable, and Maggie knew that Max was really uncomfortable with her making the trip on her own.  For that reason he had insisted on his making the drive to East Wayford and back, for most weekends during the past year. This was the only downside to his new position, everything else was good. The challenge of the learning curve on the job at the Partnership and the interesting aspects of the unusual employment had been energizing but both Max and Maggie felt there was a strain on their relationship because of the travel time.  A lot was hanging on the commuting by air.

Max drove his runabout shuttle cart to the USAP building and went through the parking area directly to the private fenced airstrip behind the headquarters main structure. He hopped out of the run-about and entered the service door of the internal hangar. Brad Charles was in his upper level office and waved to Max when he noticed him coming into the maintenance section.

“Hey Max, what brings you to the back door this morning?” Brad asked.

“I finally got my wings,” Max answered while waving his private pilot license papers in the air. “I was wondering if any of the small aircraft would be available for this afternoon.’’

“Congratulations Partner!” said Brad as he walked toward Max with his hand extended for a shake. “Yeah, they’re all ready, what did you have in mind?” he asked.

Partner Bradford Charles’s specialty was transportation. He was a proven expert in aviation and proficient in most other modes of transportation. As a highly ranked aircraft technician in the military he had detected a flaw in an aircraft that was about to transport the family of the sitting United States Vice President. Out of appreciation he was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross and, by executive order of the highest United Sates Office holder, he was granted the lifetime status as a Federal Aeronautics Administration Aircraft Certifier. Semi-retired now he was in high demand as a federal government consultant and was registered with the FAA as an aeronautics hobbyist.

Over the years he had accumulated a variety of classic civilian and surplus military aircraft. He had restored and modified a variety of craft in almost all classifications of air transportation ranging from speedy, to limited-take off/landing, from fixed-wing to rotary-winged, from propeller-powered to jet-propelled, from single-engine to multi-engine, and to non-engine gliders. Brad also restored and maintained a variety of specialized motor vehicles.

To sum it all up, Partner Brad was a well-qualified USAP Transportation Specialist and the go-to guy when a fellow Partner needed to get from place to place quickly.

As a fledgling pilot, Max explained that he would rather take one of the high-wing Cessna aircraft since he was familiar with the type and had trained in a C172 model. Brad suggested the Cessna 182 “Skylane”, an advanced model which would give him some experience with a slightly heavier, faster model than the 172. Seeing that Max was just a little hesitant Brad explained the differences as he showed Max around the shiny, almost brand-new looking C182 airplane parked facing the closed hangar door.

“I just ran though the review check and she’s ready to go,” he said, using a female reference as he did to all the machines in his inventory. “The extras on her make her a little heavier but with the larger engine she flies a lot like the lighter one.”  Max accepted his suggestion of the aircraft choice and arranged a 4:00 PM-departure time.

Max stowed his overnight bag in the Cessna and walked through the long hangar to the two-story front office section. He entered the upper office area through the second floor hanger access door and went to his desk. The phone message button was blinking and the secretary filled him in with the list of messages. Max noted those which were noteworthy.

“Thanks Heather,” he said to the very efficient office supervisor. “I’ll be here till around 3:30 if anyone needs me.” The secretary was surprised that he had come in without her being aware of him. Max explained that he came in through service area because he had to see Brad Charles.

“Oh, you could have seen him at lunch; we’re having a quick office meeting in the conference room at 12:30,” she informed him. “You’re included”.

Max acknowledged the time, wondering what purpose he could serve but silently rationalized that an invitation to lunch was not a bad thing.

The remainder of the morning was uneventful and, after texting Maggie in reference to his departure time, Max went to the conference room. As he entered the conference room, a round of applause startled him. A banner hung across the slide screen on the far wall. It read;

“WELL DONE PILOT MAX–CONGRATULATIONS ON GETTING YOUR WINGS”

Head Partner Chip Chaplain was the first to shake Max’s hand and offer his personal congratulatory comments.  Secretary Heather was next and substituted a hug for the handshake. One by one the rest of the Partners, guards and clerical staff followed suit.

At the prompt; SPEECH. SPEECH. Max thanked the crew for the recognition and added that he appreciated having Brad Charles, “a real expert” in charge of the fleet maintenance. He added that he hoped his “travel by airways would be safer than the travel by highways and the airways radar would be friendlier than the highway radar.” This quip brought a round of laughter and the popping sound of champagne bottles being opened. Heather presented Max with a silver-plated-wings pin along with a kiss on his cheek. Whistles and hoots arose from the men and ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ came from the women. “Don’t worry Maggie, I know he’s spoken for,” Heather called out in jest, as if Maggie was there. The office staff had met Maggie when she came to the office on her first trip to Lakeside.  She had been immediately liked, and well received.

Besides Chip Chaplain and Brad Charles, only two of the other Partners were on hand for the celebration, the others were ‘on leave’. After lunch, some chitchat, one glass of champagne, and two cups of coffee, Max repeated his thanks for the party and announced that he was leaving for the weekend.

Brad Charles followed Max through the rear hallway leading to the hangar service office. Max entered his flight plan on the portable GPS unit and entered it as, Private transport-Time off 3:15 PM AP82 VFR to KHVN Regional arrival time estimate-4:20 PM.  The ‘Filed’ prompt was initialed by Brad.  Max proceeded to review the weather data and Doppler radar images between Ithaca and New Haven. The weather was good and the forecast for the weekend was the same. He did his preflight check around the Cessna Skylane and Brad activated the hangar door opener. After starting the engine, Max taxied the plane out onto the tarmac apron.

With a 5-10 knot southwest breeze Brad taxied to the north end of the airstrip and after donning headphones he activated the automated traffic broadcast.  He announced his location and intended takeoff on Runway 19.  Hearing no response, Max taxied out onto runway 19.  He set the altimeter, adjusted the fuel mixture, and lowered the flaps to the ‘takeoff’ setting.  Pushing the throttle to full power, Max felt the propeller thrust push him slightly back in his seat as the airplane accelerated rapidly down the runway.  The wheels parted from the runway surface with 80 MPH showing on the air-speed indicator. The exhilaration Max always felt upon liftoff washed over him. He was airborne and heading home to New Haven.

The national real estate scenario had entered a downward spiral mode and sales volume was slumping. Commercial property had been stagnant, but stable, for several years.  The overall residential market was primarily responsible for the recent downturn.

The real estate market in the New Haven area of Connecticut, as with the regional and national market, had succumbed to the pressure.  Home values stabilized at first and, with decreasing demand, began to fall.  Heavily mortgaged homes, recently purchased at peak pricing, began to lose market value to a point where they were worth less than the original purchase price, and then, less than the mortgage balance. These properties were now considered ‘under water’ or ‘up-side-down’.  Those owners whom could not maintain mortgage and tax payments, or those needing to sell for other reasons, faced a dilemma.

As a financial specialist, Maggie was in heavy demand assisting in the negotiations between lenders and borrowers to arrive at the best solutions.  She had gotten through a busy week and was slumped in her desk chair when Jessica, her secretary looked into the doorway to ask Maggie if it would be ok if she left for the weekend a little early. Permission was given.

“TGIF” Maggie said softly to her empty office, once Jessie had left.  Glancing at her watch, she realized that Max would be landing at Tweed Airport in about 15 minutes. She locked the office and drove south on Main Street toward the route I-95 highway overpass.

Tweed Airport was listed as a regional airport. Various airlines had flown out of the location over the years. Currently there were commuter flights to New York City, Washington DC, Philadelphia PA, and a few alternate stops. Tweed had also been a popular site for private planes for many years.

After takeoff from Lakeside and upon reaching the planned altitude level, Max had called Maggie’s cell number.

“Well, hello fly boy,” Maggie had answered. “How does it feel to be on top of the world?”

“A hell-uv-a lot better than putting along through these woods that I’m looking down at,” he retorted.  Max went on to tell Maggie about the surprise party that was thrown for him at the office celebrating his getting license to fly. “I would have left earlier but I didn’t want the crew to think the new guy was rude,” he said, semi-seriously. “I didn’t eat much, are you getting hungry?” he asked. Maggie replied in the affirmative.  They made plans for dinner at one of their old haunts after Max reached New Haven at 4:20, as estimated.

Max’s flight was relatively uneventful, although there seemed to be an unusually high level of air traffic activity. At this time he was close enough to his destination to be notified by the flight controller following his flight by radar. The airplane Max was flying was equipped with autopilot, so since he was flying in pleasant weather conditions his main function was to monitor the instruments. The heavy concentration of air traffic kept him busy sighting and acknowledging the other aircraft and he appreciated having something to relieve the monotony.

When he was 10 miles north of his destination, Max tuned to the appropriate frequency to make radio contact.

“Tweed Airways, this is flight ‘Charley Echo 82’ for full stop landing.”  Max said using the customary phonetic alphabet as he announced his call sign into the hand-held microphone.

  “Roger Charley Echo eight-two, fly left traffic, runway one-zero when cleared,” came the Tweed air traffic controller’s response.  Max acknowledged the directive, reduced the speed and lowered to 1800 feet in altitude.  A few minutes later he sighted the airport. After passing the landing strip to his left and when cleared to land by the controller, Max made a wide U-turn and switched on the landing lights. He aligned his flight path with the runway 10 landing lights, lowered the wing flaps, and at half throttle, slowly drifted down until he crossed the end of the runway.  At 2 feet above the runway he slightly raised the nose of the plane, set the throttle to ‘idle’ and the Cessna touched down with a slight jolt.

“Charley 82, exit next taxiway,” was the next directive. As Max turned off the runway he was instructed to contact ground control for directions to parking.

As he taxied into the first available parking station, Max could see Maggie waving to him through the chain link fence straight ahead. After shutting down the engine, lights, radio and flight controls Max un-strapped his overnight bag and exited the airplane. He strode to the fence to greet one of the most valued persons in his life. They shared an extended-pucker kiss through the wire grating.  The first fast-track commute was a success.

Maggie went to her car and drove to the front entrance of the airport flight office.  Within six minutes Max came out of the building wearing a broad smile on his face.

“Let’s go kiddo, flying makes me thirsty. Let’s beat the crowd to ‘Jerry’s Jug’,” he quipped, referencing their favorite East Haven eatery.

“I’m right behind you Max,” was her response. 

Max and Maggie enjoyed a relaxing supper and martini at ‘Jerry’s Jug’ in East Wayford.  After settling up with their friend Jerry, the proprietor, the pair bid him adieu and drove to their apartment at ‘Hargrove House’.

After showering the two enjoyed bedtime hot chocolates and soft rock tunes on the stereo in their robes, basking in the glow of the automatic gas fireplace while they caught up on the warm and pleasurable romantic part of their private lives.