pilot’s voice came over the plane’s sound system. “Good afternoon, Countess, Mrs. Rutledge, and Mrs. Hansen. Please move to the forward-facing seats and buckle your seat belts. We will be moving shortly.”
“I’m all atwitter!” Charlotte giggled. “It’s going to be a very interesting encounter with Dr. Marcus now that I know what he’s been up to. Of course, I’m going to have to control myself and keep from knocking the living you-know-what out of him.”
“You can say ‘shit,’ ” Annie teased.
“When it’s appropriate,” Myra retorted.
All three broke into hysterics. The howling caught the ear of Patrice, the flight attendant, who peeked behind the privacy door. “Everything okay back there?”
“Couldn’t be better!” Annie hooted.
Once they reached cruising altitude, the captain turned off the seat-belt sign to indicate that they could go back to the plane’s lounge area.
“It’s going to be about seven hours. Do you want to watch a flick?” Annie turned on the sixty-inch-screen TV. “Pretty much anything you want.” She handed the remote to Charlotte.
Annie went on. “When we land, it will be around ten P.M. London time. Patrice will fix dinner for us. What do you think you’ll be in the mood for?”
“I could use something right now. Maybe a snack?” Charlotte asked sheepishly. “Whatever you have for dinner, I will also.”
“Meat, fish, poultry? You decide.” Annie called over to Patrice, “Could you fix us a little something to munch on?”
“Shrimp cocktails and crabmeat salads?” Patrice suggested.
“Sounds divine,” Myra answered. She then whispered, “I must admit, no matter where I go, the food can’t compare to Charles’s. I’m really spoiled.”
“Boo-hoo,” Annie joked.
“Ha!” Myra returned fire. “You and Fergus get to share most of it, Countess!”
Annie turned to Charlotte. “And this is why we’re friends.” She paused. “Charles’s cooking!”
Patrice rolled over a cart that looked like it belonged in a fine restaurant rather than in an airplane. It held a platter of colossal shrimp, chunks of crabmeat, and seviche. A crisp Sancerre wine was in a silver bucket.
“This looks divine,” Annie said with glee. Myra and Charlotte agreed, and they all indulged in the luscious seafood.
As they were finishing their repast, Myra turned to Charlotte. “Maryann must be thrilled that you’re coming back to London.”
“She was very surprised, to say the least. Especially when I told her you and Annie were coming with me.”
“And she’s okay with you staying at my brownstone?” Annie asked.
“Yes. She said she understood wanting to have ‘girl time,’ as she put it. And I think it’s less pressure for her. Their flat is rather small. I told her we would plan a nice lunch for all of us once we get settled,” Charlotte replied. “She made the appointments for the three of us to meet with Marcus tomorrow.”
“Oh, he must be wetting his pants in anticipation of the money he thinks he’s going to squeeze out of us!” Annie smirked. The other two laughed at the remark. “We need to manipulate him into inviting us to his flat. Maybe the conservatory. I have to get into his place and check the safe.”
Myra offered a suggestion. “He knows you are a countess. We know his wife is a social climber. I am willing to bet she would be over the moon to show you off to her friends.”
Annie snapped her fingers. “How about this? I’ll throw a cocktail party at the Plimsoll Building, in their conservatory. It will be a fund-raiser for the kennel club, and I’ll invite the Marcuses and pretend that it’s a marvelous coincidence that they live there. That will make Mrs. Marcus pee in her pants!” The women howled with laughter. “I’ll tell him that she can invite her friends, and that any donation is welcome.”
“Yes! We’ll get a small doghouse, and people can put their donations in it,” Myra added.
“Perfecto,” Annie said with glee.
“Wow. You women never cease to amaze me!” Charlotte was enthralled.
“I’ll get my people on it right now.” Annie got up from the sofa and moved to a table, where she pulled out her tablet. She feverishly typed for a few minutes, then turned to the others. “Done! And done! Now all we need is for him to take the bait.”
Myra stroked her pearls. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”
The rest of the journey was smooth, and the women dozed, watched Under the Tuscan Sun, regrouped for dinner, then freshened up. They would be landing in an hour. With the time change and the jet lag, they were ready for a good night’s sleep at