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With that, Miss Overstreet hung up.
I found myself intrigued by her wording. Enjoyment.
While I certainly enjoyed my job, it didn’t hurt that most of the people were as nice as she was. I’d met my fair share of entitled customers, of course, but that was mainly because there was a class of private flyers who believed that flying privately and being able to afford to do so on a regular basis meant that they were entitled to have the world handed to them on a satin pillow. Given my lower prices for a private flight and considering what commercial flights cost these days, I was seeing more people who were simply thankful that they didn’t have to deal with the possibility of delays because the flight crew was sick.
I was about to get ready for more bickering with a client who wanted the moon (which I couldn’t deliver anyway) when my phone buzzed in my hand. It was my payment app, alerting me to a payment. There was a note attached from Miss Overstreet.
It was the entire payment for the flight, the rush fee, and a not-so-small tip. She’d added another twenty percent of what I was charging her total.
For being such a wonderfully cooperative pilot. I appreciate the lengths you’re going to so that I can get to Corinth, even though I could see how much you wanted to laugh at the thought when I first introduced the idea. Thank you for containing that laughter.
The note was rather sweet.
It made me feel a bit bad for wanting to laugh, no matter how professionally I had managed to hold it back. I felt bad for being so standoffish after the concert too. I hadn’t realized she had been able to see so clearly how I’d originally felt about her trip, but the fact that she tipped me twenty percent of the total – that she tipped at all – was the really startling thing. I knew she may have had the money to fly commercial, but just because I wasn’t charging her that much didn’t mean that she could use that money to tip me.
Most of my passengers tipped me at the end of the trip, if at all. I always thought it was prudent to wait until the end of the trip to give a tip anyways. Honestly, it would have been better for her to save it for the next trip she went on. I could tell that her boss was probably not happy since I had to charge her double for the rush anyway, and it didn’t help that she had offered to pay double regardless.
Whatever had caused her to offer to pay double, I was grateful that she decided to do it. Most clients got angry when I introduced a rush fee. It was there to make sure that any clients making a trip so late understood that it was difficult to arrange. Perhaps Miss Overstreet had had to pay her fair share of rush fees in her time as a reporter.
I shook my head.
As sweet as it was, I couldn’t allow it to get me all out of sorts. Plenty of people tipped me when they had the money to do so because I was good at my job. I never expected it, and I explicitly put on my website that tips were not necessary. I supposed the low cost made some people think that I was intentionally undervaluing my services.
I shook my head to get rid of those thoughts as I started calling to confirm any last-minute changes with my clients. Every now and then, I’d call a client only for them to realize they’d forgotten to tell me about a major adjustment they needed to make. Once, someone had a dream they called me to cancel their flight, and I waited at the airport for two hours before I was finally able to catch them on the phone.
I knew this step was strictly unnecessary, but I liked to do it anyway to be sure we were all going to have smooth flights.
As the week continued, I couldn’t help but think of Miss Grace Overstreet and her enthusiasm over everything. It was quirky – kind of charming. But I also couldn’t imagine giving that much energy to everything. Just thinking about trying to be that enthusiastic made me tired. As I considered this, I began to worry I wouldn’t be able to handle a few days in the same hotel as her.
I shrugged off the concern. With the photos she’d have to take, I didn’t think it’d be much of a problem until our return flight to Tulsa - after she had all the photos she could ever want.
My phone pinged, and I glanced down to a fourth text from Miss Overstreet since I’d called her to finalize the plans.
“I hope it really does snow in Corinth when we’re there. Wouldn’t that be AMAZING??”
I stared at the message. The way she said it, you’d think we never got snow here in Tulsa. I wasn’t exactly sure whether her energy was annoying or endearing. We saw snow every year here… and she still got excited about the prospect of seeing a little dusting somewhere else?
Chapter six
Grace
The morning of the flight dawned, and I could not hold back my excitement. Flying to Corinth would be a much different experience than any of my other flights. Travelling on a budget, all my flights had been on large commercial airlines with plenty of inconvenient layovers that kept the cost down. The worst part was that the layovers were either barely long enough to make my connecting flight, or they were so long that I got bored in the airport because I had been through every shop twice to browse. Having a long layover in a larger airport wasn’t too bad, but the smaller airports were rough.
Gabe met me at the security line in the airport.
“You get to go through with me,” he said. “This will make it a lot easier to keep track of your bag, even though you wouldn’t be checking that one anyway on a larger flight. The other bag, you’d probably have to.”
He motioned towards my second suitcase with his duffel bag before turning to walk toward security. I had decided to pack my camera and other reporter essentials in a separate suitcase instead of a backpack to make sure it all made it in one piece. I had used clothing to pad it all, though I hadn’t been able to pack for the entire trip in that one suitcase. The smaller duffel in my hand could have fit underneath the seat of a commercial flight, though.
I’d used it in that capacity before for this exact reason.
Regardless, I followed him toward the shorter security line. He showed his pilot’s wings and ID and then turned to me.
“The passenger of my flight today,” he said. “I paid extra for her to get through this line, too.”
The other worker just nodded.
“If you say so, Mr. Delaney,” she said, referring to his ID. “Come on through then. Both of you. If you could put your bags up here, ma’am.”
