Categories > TV > Beauty and the Beast > A New Bond
The jet landed at Kennedy airport and taxied up to the terminal. The passengers filed out, some of them eyeing the tawny haired woman still sitting in first class. One woman whispered to another, "That's Elena Kingston, the author. I've read some of her books and they are so good. She researches her locales very well. Her stories may be fiction, but her settings are incredibly accurate. I wonder if she's going to write a novel that's set in New York City."
They moved on, and slowly the jet emptied. Still the woman sat, looking out of the window. ~I don't understand this. Something has been drawing me to this city for over a year, yet now that I'm here, I'm afraid to get off this plane. Why am I so frightened? I wish I could remember . . .~
"I'm sorry, Miss Kingston. You'll have to leave now. The plane has emptied and we need to clean up." The flight attendant smiled at the woman, who had started at her voice, then smiled back.
"Of course. Thank you for your patience." Elena slid across the seats to the aisle and pulled her carry-on from the overhead compartment, and reached for her purse and electric typewriter. She took a deep breath, then walked off the plane, smiling at the other attendants. When she reached the lobby, she paused and looked around.
"Well, it's about time," she heard a female voice exclaim. "You had me worried that you decided not to come, after all. And as your agent, I would've had to go get you."
She turned to the woman, smiling in relief. "Sorry, Doris. I found it difficult just to get off the plane. I'm still frightened at even the thought of being here, yet I feel I must. I wish I understood why."
"Never mind. You know you don't have to explain anything to me. You're here now, and that's what counts. Come on. Let's go get the rest of your luggage." Doris took her carry-on from her and led the way to the baggage claim area.
As they stood waiting for the bags to arrive, Doris looked at her client appraisingly. ~She looks as if she hasn't slept very well. I wonder what it is about this city that scares her so much. She's been in far more dangerous places. And she certainly knows how to take care of herself all too well.~
She thought about how much had happened since they'd met, twelve years ago. Elena had become a well-respected novelist and short story writer, and she'd become the author's agent and friend, one of the few people she trusted.
Now both women were in their mid thirties, and finally Elena was in New York. They were in Doris's car, heading into Manhattan. "I found you a very nice two bedroom apartment. It has a bit of a history to it. A year or so ago, the female tenant was found in her bed, dead. It was a drug overdose, and she'd just given birth. The baby was never found. Since then, it has been rented out only once. That tenant left in a hurry, because he said someone was able to climb up onto the balcony, several floors up, and tried to get in. He didn't feel safe there. No one has leased it since."
Elena turned to look at her friend. "And you thought that would suit me? Well, maybe you're right. Who was the tenant who died?"
"A lawyer named Catherine Chandler."
They moved on, and slowly the jet emptied. Still the woman sat, looking out of the window. ~I don't understand this. Something has been drawing me to this city for over a year, yet now that I'm here, I'm afraid to get off this plane. Why am I so frightened? I wish I could remember . . .~
"I'm sorry, Miss Kingston. You'll have to leave now. The plane has emptied and we need to clean up." The flight attendant smiled at the woman, who had started at her voice, then smiled back.
"Of course. Thank you for your patience." Elena slid across the seats to the aisle and pulled her carry-on from the overhead compartment, and reached for her purse and electric typewriter. She took a deep breath, then walked off the plane, smiling at the other attendants. When she reached the lobby, she paused and looked around.
"Well, it's about time," she heard a female voice exclaim. "You had me worried that you decided not to come, after all. And as your agent, I would've had to go get you."
She turned to the woman, smiling in relief. "Sorry, Doris. I found it difficult just to get off the plane. I'm still frightened at even the thought of being here, yet I feel I must. I wish I understood why."
"Never mind. You know you don't have to explain anything to me. You're here now, and that's what counts. Come on. Let's go get the rest of your luggage." Doris took her carry-on from her and led the way to the baggage claim area.
As they stood waiting for the bags to arrive, Doris looked at her client appraisingly. ~She looks as if she hasn't slept very well. I wonder what it is about this city that scares her so much. She's been in far more dangerous places. And she certainly knows how to take care of herself all too well.~
She thought about how much had happened since they'd met, twelve years ago. Elena had become a well-respected novelist and short story writer, and she'd become the author's agent and friend, one of the few people she trusted.
Now both women were in their mid thirties, and finally Elena was in New York. They were in Doris's car, heading into Manhattan. "I found you a very nice two bedroom apartment. It has a bit of a history to it. A year or so ago, the female tenant was found in her bed, dead. It was a drug overdose, and she'd just given birth. The baby was never found. Since then, it has been rented out only once. That tenant left in a hurry, because he said someone was able to climb up onto the balcony, several floors up, and tried to get in. He didn't feel safe there. No one has leased it since."
Elena turned to look at her friend. "And you thought that would suit me? Well, maybe you're right. Who was the tenant who died?"
"A lawyer named Catherine Chandler."
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