The Mommy Makeover

He sighed, rolling his eyes heavenward. “There was a major accident, life-flight was involved. Short of hiring my own helicopter, I was stumped.”

“People blame everything on the city’s traffic,” she groused.

“You’ll have to admit it’s a definite factor living in Houston.”

“The only thing I have to admit is that I have a meeting I must be on time to.” She reached for one of her power drinks. “Malloy, the difference between a successful person and one who wishes he were, is the successful person would hire the helicopter.”

Finn pursed his lips, considered a variety of answers and settled for the most benign one he could manage. “I’ll have to remember that.”

She quirked her eyebrows and he noticed that today her eyes were greenish—reflecting the color of her tailored suit. He’d never met anyone before whose eyes changed color so dramatically. They could reflect her clothing, her background, or even the moods of the sky.

He drove rapidly toward the downtown skyline, determined to make sure she wasn’t late for her meeting. And he arrived with five minutes to spare. Once again she didn’t comment on the accomplishment.

Instead she handed him a sheet of paper. “Here are some changes in today’s schedule. And the Woodruff meeting is vital. If I don’t make that one, heads will roll, including mine…” Katelyn paused, making certain she had his attention. “And yours.”

He accepted the sheet and scanned the location of the Woodruff meeting, nearly groaning. It was going to be held in one of the new buildings that had popped up in the Intercontinental Airport area.

One of the unique aspects of Houston was the number of mini-downtown areas that had cropped up all over the huge expanse of the city, each with their own skyline and unique set of problems. This one’s problem was location. While a thriving, growing area, it was inescapably situated near the city’s northern airport—a traffic nightmare at best, an unnavigable stretch of car-covered concrete at worst.

Two major freeways headed toward this particular airport and both of them could clog in an instant, and stay clogged for hours. Especially at the time Katelyn’s meeting was scheduled—three o’clock. At that hour it would be a nightmare to drive toward the airport. The roads would be filled with a mass of commuters and airport-bound travelers.

If there was a snag they could be stuck in a gridlock for hours. Since it was a major portion of his job to monitor the traffic and make sure his limo didn’t get caught in any of those snags, he knew exactly whose head would really roll if they didn’t make the meeting.

When Finn delivered her to the lunch meeting, Katelyn reminded him again about the importance of the Woodruff meeting. “I’ll be through at two. That should give us an hour to get there. Enough time?”

“If the freeway gods are on our side,” he replied, fervently hoping they would be.

Finn opted for a sandwich in the car as he listened to his traffic-band radio. The first hour passed safely enough. He called one of his connections at a local radio station and got the latest scoop from the eye-in-the-sky helicopter report. Both freeways, northbound I-45 and I-59, were traveling at normal speeds.

“Kyle, this one’s important,” Finn told his friend. “If there’s a change, can you call me on the cell in time to form an alternate plan?”

“Man, other than taking to the airways, there’s not an alternate if anything happens to both freeways.”

Finn tried to relax. “But what are the chances of something happening on both freeways?”

“This is Houston, man. They could both get wiped out in a torrential flood. Terrorists could blow them up. A tornado could hit ’em both or—”

“Don’t cheer me up, Kyle. Just call if something happens.”

Finn hung up, wishing the bad feeling in his gut would go away. He upped the volume on his radio and listened. Five minutes later his feeling became reality. An ammonia tanker had overturned on I-45 and they were closing the entire freeway. As he listened, details spilled from the radio with sickening accuracy. The lethal gas had the potential to kill anyone in the area and even the surrounding neighborhoods were being evacuated.

Finn found himself crossing his fingers as he thought about the remaining freeway. Then he remembered his own words to Kyle. What were the chances of both freeways being closed?

At that moment his cell phone rang. Misgiving filled him as he answered. Kyle’s words completed the scenario. A petroleum tanker that had been routed off I-45 took a steep curve on I-59 and overturned. Because of the possible flammability, combined with the chemical mix of the ammonia spill, that freeway had been closed as well. And, Kyle confirmed, every arterial and side street was jammed to the hilt.

“Only two strikes, man, but I guess you’re still out,” Kyle sympathized.

Katelyn’s words replayed themselves in Finn’s thoughts. The successful person would hire the helicopter.

“Not quite, Kyle. I’ve got three strikes, remember.”

“And two freeways.”

“You’ve got connections with the helicopter companies, haven’t you?”

“Yeah. We use ’em for backup when our copter’s down.”

“Can you get me one in less than an hour?”

“That’s a tall order. With the freeway blocked, they’ll be swamped.”

“That’s why I need your connections, Kyle.”

Finn heard a long sigh. “You got it. I’ll call you back in ten.”

The phone clicked off and Finn hoped his friend could deliver.

The next ten minutes crawled by. When the phone rang, he grabbed it. Kyle didn’t keep him in suspense. “We got it.”

Finn breathed a sigh of relief, not doubting for a moment that Ms. Amhurst would indeed fire him if they failed to make the meeting. Too much was riding on this contract to let that happen. He took down the directions Kyle gave him and floored the car. He didn’t have long to reach the heliport and return.

LESS THAN AN HOUR later, Finn and the pilot from Armadillo Airlines touched down at the helipad atop the building Katelyn’s lunch meeting had been held in. The helicopter’s dispatcher had reached Katelyn at the meeting and told her to meet them on the helipad atop the building.

Finn spotted Katelyn before they landed, her distinctive hair shining in the sunlight, her tailored suit plastered against her body by the powerful draft of the copter blades.

She strode up to the helicopter as Finn climbed out. “Malloy, what the hell is this all about?”

Instead of answering, Finn lifted her into the helicopter, ignoring her protests. By the time he explained the entire situation, she would be late to her appointment and he valued his head. “You’ve got a meeting to make. And this is the only way you’re going to get there. Both the freeways are closed and the side streets aren’t moving. The successful person knows it when she sees a good thing.”

For once Katelyn didn’t seem to have a rapier-sharp retort.

Finn climbed in beside her and buckled in. Katelyn had a strange look on her face, but she was quiet as the pilot took off. It didn’t take long to cross the city. Beneath them, stacks of unmoving cars littered the freeways and jammed the roads as far as they could see.

If Finn hadn’t been convinced before that the helicopter was the only way to reach their destination, he was now. The pilot landed efficiently on the helipad atop the Woodruff Building and Finn climbed out. He waited for Katelyn to follow, but she didn’t move. Climbing back inside, he saw that she was still in her seat, her hands gripping the armrests.

The pilot glanced at her sympathetically. “Not everybody likes traveling by whirlybird.”

Finn hadn’t noticed before, but she was as white as parchment. And her hands were nearly bloodless as she gripped the armrests. “Ms. Amhurst.”

Nothing.

“Ms. Amhurst, we’re at the Woodruff Building.”

Silence.

“Katelyn?” He angled his face so that his eyes met hers. Now they were a dark blue-gray. And they were terrified.

“Katelyn, it’s okay. We’re on the ground.” He glanced back behind him. Actually they were on top of a thirty-story building and the rooftop wasn’t as generous as he would have liked.