The plane ride from California to Maine was uneventful. Natasha Bellefleur Burgess was deep in thought studying her portfolio as the plane touched down in Bangor, Maine. Natasha stretched her long legs out in front of her, and then her arms as she looked out the window once again.
With a sigh, she watched the passengers from first class begin to disembark. She buttoned her black leather coat, picked up Juanita and her tote bag, and fell into line behind her young son Travis and her young daughter Tatiana.
Even with the worried frown between her eyebrows and the casual clothes she had worn on the trip, she was still a strikingly beautiful woman. Heads turned as men noticed her making her way slowly out of the giant plane. None of them has seen her during the five hour trip because she has only left her seat once and that was to wash her children's faces and hands before the lunch was served.
But the rest of the time she had just sat there, numb, tired, thinking of her ruined marriage, her troubled career and taking care of the needs of her three children.