Devin could feel Tiffany’s hand trembling in his and he squeezed it tightly.
The phone call had made this moment inevitable though it was still early on Sunday afternoon. The last events of the festival were still on-going and her mother wasn’t supposed to arrive until after it was over. But it was too late to be helped.
He led her over to stand by the hangar as the private jet taxied up and stopped on the front apron—the paved area in front of the hangar. He didn’t know what to expect when the ladder folded down, but still it was a shock.
An older version of Tiffany walked down the short set of stairs. She wore a designer dress more appropriate for a yachting party than an Eagle Cove fly-in and her hair was an elegant cut of the latest style. At least he imagined it was, because he cou
