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“This is Blake. How are you?” He walks away for privacy.
“Food will be here in twenty minutes,” Rob says.
“Great,” I answer and wander to the kitchen and retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge. “You want one?” I ask Rob.
“I’ll wait.”
We sit down, and five minutes later, Blake gets off the phone. “Ryder’s more than happy to help. He’s already on it.”
“Good,” I reply.
He plops on the couch, and we talk until the food arrives, and then we talk while we eat. Ryder calls back as we’re finishing up. Blake answers. Says a bunch ofuh-huhsand then athanks a lot, and then he hangs up.
“Ryder found her,” Blake says.
“Really?” I lean back. “That fast?”
“Yeah. He got her parents’ number and made a bogus call, something about a high school reunion or something. Anyway, her mother said Amber was there but wasn’t up to coming to the phone, but she would sure let her know they called.”
“Great. I’m going to Chicago.”
“We’re coming with you,” Blake says.
“Yeah, we are,” Rob cheers.
“Go pack, and I’ll call Judy and tell her what’s going on. She can get a hold of Bill (our pilot) and have him get things ready.”
My brothers scatter while I call Judy. It’s a brief conversation because Judy understands.
“Thanks, Judy.”
“Good luck.”
I pack and meet my brothers in the parking garage. We’re taking our own vehicles because we all have calls to make. Our plane—a Gulfstream G650ER like Bezos, who I plan to overtake on the Forbes list—isn’t quite ready when we arrive at the hangar, but the wait isn’t long.
“Storm’s coming, so we better move,” Bill says when we board.
We get seated and buckled up and taxi the runway. The plane speeds up, and we take off. This is it. Going to Chicago to get my girl. That’s my hope, anyway.
