Chapter 7 - The Journey to GenevaThe eight-hour flight across the Atlantic was smooth and quiet.
As Flight 217 chased the evening sun toward Europe, the atmosphere inside the First Class cabin remained remarkably peaceful. The story of what had occurred on the tarmac at Boston Logan had already begun to circulate among the crew and passengers, but no one bothered Eliza. They respected her space, allowing the young musician to focus on her music scores and her sleep.
In row 32 of the Economy section, Richard Sterling sat in a cramped middle seat between a family of four, working tirelessly on his laptop to draft the charter for the newly established Monroe Youth Music Foundation. It was a humbling experience for a man accustomed to private jets and penthouse boardrooms, but it was a lesson he knew his airline desperately needed to learn.
At 7:30 AM local time, the wheels of Flight 217 touched down smoothly on the runway at Geneva Airport.
The snow-capped peaks of the Swiss Alps glistened in the distance under a crisp, bright morning sky.
As the plane taxied toward the gate, the lead purser—a warm, senior attendant who had replaced Dana—walked up to seat 1A with a gentle smile.
"Miss Monroe," she said softly. "We have arranged for a private ground escort to assist you through Swiss customs and carry your instrument. Your aunt is already waiting in the VIP arrivals lounge."
"Thank you," Eliza said, carefully retrieving her navy cardigan and slinging her backpack over her shoulders.
When the boarding door opened, Eliza stepped off the plane holding her precious violin case securely in her hand. The ground escort, a courteous Swiss officer, held the velvet rope open, guiding her through the private terminal lane while other passengers offered polite smiles of encouragement.
Standing near the glass doors of the arrival hall was her aunt, Catherine—Celeste's younger sister—who ran an art gallery in Zurich.
"Eliza!" Catherine cried out, rushing forward to wrap her niece in a warm, lavender-scented hug. "Oh, darling! Your mother called me four times while you were over the ocean! Are you alright?"
"I'm great, Aunt Catherine," Eliza smiled, stepping back and pulling her violin case tight. "I'm ready for the academy."
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Catherine laughed, shaking her head in awe. "You really are your mother's daughter, aren't you?"
"I just let the truth do the talking," Eliza said.
