Chapter 1
 It was a foggy morning when Oliver Knight arrived at the Aéroport de Paris-Charles-de-Gaulle. There was just enough time after packing his belongings to have a quick breakfast at his favorite café before hailing a cab to northern Paris. As a foreign correspondent, he was well accustomed to his routine of traveling to and from places in a rapid manner. In fact, he found that he enjoyed a life of boarding, deboarding, checking in and checking out.
 The flight was delayed–not entirely a shocking development. Oliver took his usual seat at the terminal and sleepily flipped through his notes. His career in journalism wasn’t really a longtime aspiration of his; not to say that he didn’t enjoy it. He did have a vague sort of interest in writing while growing up, but not enough to take action upon or to consider as a viable career. Naturally, it came as a surprise that his stories in the high school paper were a hit among the campus. Oliver found himself in NYU, then, at age 20, a reporter for the New York Times. They offered him the opportunity to write stories overseas, and he took it. What reason did he have not to? He wasn’t very attached to New York in the first place, and he didn’t object to travel. Also, how many graduates can brag of a generous salary right out of school?
His reflection was interrupted by a lively “Excuse me!”, which was enough to startle him in the rainy ambiance of the largely empty departure gate. Oliver looked up to a pair of blue eyes that met his gaze with a piercing brightness.
    “Can I help you?” he asked, with a start. An advantage from his line of work was that he had become a near natural speaker in a handful of languages.
The girl’s golden hair was heavy from the downpour outside. “You’re headed to Louisiana, yes?”
“Right.” Oliver’s editor-in-chief had asked via telegram if he could go straight to New Orleans; some hot venue he wanted a story on.
“Ah, then you wouldn’t mind if I come with you?” she asked, wringing the bottom of her shirt dress.
“Come with me? Do you need help finding your gate?” She wasn’t carrying any baggage. As far as Oliver could tell, her dress had no pockets. Did she even have her ticket?
“This is the plane headed to New Orleans, right? There’s someone I’m looking for there.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I follow. If you’re asking if this is the right plane, it appears so.”
“Great! You can call me Lucille, by the way.” She gave Oliver a big grin.
Oliver didn’t want to expend the mental energy to figure out what was going on. It was still before sunrise and his coffee had yet to kick in.
    “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lucille. If you’ll excuse me for just a moment, I need to check on the flight,” Oliver replied, hastening to the attendant's desk. He needed a moment to collect himself before delving back into the uncomfortable situation.
    The woman at the counter beamed to him. “The plane will be arriving in ten minutes. Please have your ticket and baggage ready.”
    He gave her a scripted “Thank you” and turned back, feeling wholly stupid about the awkward excursion.
    Heading back to his seat, he saw that the girl was nowhere to be found. Oliver chose not to question it. He sat down and filed his notes back into his bag, relieved that he was alone in the lobby again.