“And when are you all going back?” Mary Ann asked.
“Tomorrow morning, in my airplane. May we give you a lift back to New York?”
“Thank you, but I’m spending a few days in London with friends, as long as I’m on this side of the pond. Can your airplane make the trip nonstop?”
“No, we’ll stop for fuel at Santa Maria, in the Azores, then again at St. John’s, Newfoundland, thence to Teterboro.”
There was a move of the crowd toward the front door, to wave off the happy couples, then the party resumed without them.
The following morning their luggage was loaded aboard the Citation CJ3 Plus, and Stone ran through his checklists, then taxied to the end of the runway and took off. Turning west, with the sun at their backs, the light jet climbed to forty thousand feet and was cleared on course to Santa Maria.
Late that night, tired from his long flight, Stone slept in his own New York bed. Once, he had to get up and he was disoriented, thinking he was still at Windward House.
By tomorrow morning he would have made the adjustment, except for the jet lag.
He already missed England.