Chương 15: Las Vegas Trip III

December 21, 1970 Sunday morning arrived quietly. Unlike most weekends, Enzo woke earlier than usual. Years of managing a manufacturing company had made sleeping in almost impossible, even on his days off. By the time James walked into the kitchen, breakfast was already waiting on the table. Scrambled eggs. Toast with butter. Fresh orange juice. And, as always, a steaming cup of coffee for Enzo.

"You keep getting up earlier," James observed as he took his seat. Enzo smiled over the rim of his cup.

"Old habits."

"I've tried breaking them."

"They always win." James laughed softly before unfolding the morning edition of the New York Herald. The front page was dominated by political news, while the business section carried several articles discussing holiday retail sales across the country. He read each column carefully, occasionally making a small note in the notebook he carried everywhere. Enzo watched him for a moment.

"You know..." James looked up.

"When we get back from Nevada, school starts again."

"I know."

"You've been doing well." James smiled.

"I'm trying."

"No." Enzo shook his head.

"You're doing more than trying."

"Mrs. Parker told me last week that you're one of the best students in the class." James felt a little embarrassed.

"I still have a lot to learn." Enzo laughed.

"That's probably why you're one of the best."

Around midmorning, they drove to Brooklyn one last time before leaving for their Christmas trip. Although it was Sunday, a reduced crew was working inside Thompson Manufacturing. The company had decided to keep essential production running through the holidays while giving most employees time with their families. The atmosphere inside the factory was much quieter than usual.

Instead of hundreds of voices filling the building, only the sounds of a few sewing machines and packing stations echoed through the large production hall. Marcus greeted them near the warehouse.

"Morning, Chairman."

"Morning, James."

"Morning, Marcus." Marcus handed Enzo a folder.

"I thought you'd want one last update before your trip." Enzo opened it as they walked.

"Go ahead." Marcus began his report from memory.

"We completed another three hundred backpacks yesterday."

"Our work jackets are almost caught up with retailer demand."

"The first batch of bomber jackets has entered final quality inspection."

"Helen says they're among the best garments we've produced so far." Enzo nodded with satisfaction.

"Any problems?"

"Nothing major."

"A stitching machine broke yesterday afternoon." Samuel had it running again within an hour."

"Excellent." They reached the warehouse where several pallets were already wrapped and waiting for Monday morning pickups. Each carried the familiar Thompson Manufacturing logo alongside its new slogan. BUILT TO WORK. BUILT TO LAST. Marcus smiled as he looked over the stacked shipments.

"I still can't get used to seeing civilian products filling this warehouse." Enzo rested a hand on one of the wooden crates.

"I can." There was a quiet certainty in his voice.

"I don't miss military contracts." Marcus looked at him, slightly surprised.

"You don't?" Enzo slowly shook his head.

"For years I convinced myself we had no other choice." He looked around the warehouse.

"Turns out..."

"We did." James listened without interrupting. Hearing those words meant more to him than Enzo probably realized. His grandfather no longer viewed leaving military production as a gamble. He viewed it as the right decision.

Before noon, Anthony arrived carrying a leather briefcase.

"I figured I'd catch you before your flight." Enzo smiled warmly.

"Perfect timing." Anthony placed several documents on the table inside the conference room.

"Nothing urgent."

"I just wanted your signatures before everyone disappears for Christmas." Enzo skimmed through each page carefully before signing where required. When he finished, Anthony closed the folder.

"That's the last piece of business for this year." He smiled.

"Unless something unexpected happens." Enzo laughed.

"Let's hope it doesn't." Anthony glanced toward James.

"So..."

"Ready for Las Vegas?" James nodded.

"I've heard it's an interesting city." Anthony chuckled.

"I've only been there once."

"And?"

"It was... loud." Marcus laughed.

"I've heard the same thing." If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Enzo stood, slipping his fountain pen back into his jacket pocket.

"Well, James wanted somewhere different this year." Anthony smiled knowingly.

"I'm beginning to think James always has a reason for everything." James simply smiled without answering. If only they knew.

As the afternoon drew to a close, Enzo gathered the small management team one final time before leaving. Marcus. Leslie. Anthony. The meeting lasted barely fifteen minutes.

"I'll be away until the evening of the twenty-eighth," Enzo said.

"Marcus, the factory is yours." Marcus nodded immediately.

"I'll keep things running."

"Leslie, continue monitoring retailer correspondence."

"Of course, Chairman."

"Anthony, if anything requires my signature..."

"I'll hold it until you return unless it's truly urgent." Enzo smiled.

"Good." He looked at each of them in turn.

"You've all worked incredibly hard these past months."

"I want you to enjoy Christmas with your families."

"The factory matters." He paused briefly.

"But the people waiting for you at home matter more." A warm silence settled over the room. Finally, Marcus extended his hand.

"Have a good trip, Chairman." Enzo shook it firmly.

"Take care of the place."

"You have my word." One by one, they exchanged Christmas wishes before Enzo and James made their way toward the parking lot. As the Cavallo V12 pulled away from Thompson Manufacturing, James glanced back through the rear window. The factory slowly disappeared behind them. Tomorrow... They would leave New York. And in just two days... His carefully prepared plan would finally begin. ☆☆☆☆☆ December 22, 1970 James woke before the alarm had the chance to ring.

The apartment was still dark, with only the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the living room curtains. Outside, Manhattan was slowly waking up beneath a cold December sky. Overnight, a light dusting of snow had covered the sidewalks and parked cars, leaving the city looking quieter than usual. For a few seconds, James simply lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Today wasn't simply the beginning of their Christmas vacation.

Today was the first step toward something he had been planning since the day he returned to 1970. The Private Capital Plan. He climbed out of bed, made it carefully—as Enzo had taught him years ago—and got dressed before walking into the kitchen. As expected, his grandfather was already awake. Enzo stood in front of the stove wearing one of his old blue aprons, humming an Italian song under his breath while flipping pancakes in a cast-iron skillet.

Fresh coffee brewed beside him, filling the apartment with its rich aroma. Two brown leather suitcases rested neatly beside the apartment door. Without turning around, Enzo smiled.

"I was wondering when my sleeping champion would wake up." James laughed.

"I've been up for almost five minutes."

"Then you've already wasted five valuable minutes of your day." James rolled his eyes dramatically.

"I'll try to recover them." Enzo chuckled.

"Good." He placed another pancake onto James's plate before carrying his own breakfast to the table.

"I figured we'd eat here."

"I don't trust airport restaurants." James smiled.

"You've said that every year."

"And every year I'm right." The two quietly enjoyed breakfast while the morning radio played softly in the background. A news presenter spoke about Christmas travel across the country before introducing a weather forecast. The report predicted clear skies over most of the eastern United States and favorable flying conditions all the way to Nevada.

"Looks like we'll have a smooth flight," Enzo remarked.

"I hope so." Once breakfast was finished, Enzo washed the dishes while James performed one final check around the apartment. He made sure every window was properly locked. The curtains were closed. The lights were turned off. Everything was exactly as they always left it before traveling. Enzo picked up both suitcases.

"Ready?" James nodded.

"Ready."

The drive toward Manhattan Metropolitan Airport was peaceful. Although Christmas was only a few days away, traffic remained surprisingly light for the early morning hours. Storefronts along the avenues displayed festive decorations. Large wreaths hung from lamp posts. Department stores had transformed their display windows into elaborate Christmas scenes that attracted crowds of children despite the cold weather. Inside the Cavallo V12, the heater kept the cabin pleasantly warm.

Neither grandfather nor grandson felt much need to speak. They had made this trip together several times over the years. The comfortable silence between them had become one of their favorite forms of conversation. Occasionally, Enzo pointed toward a building or shared a story from his early years after arriving in New York from Italy. James listened attentively. He had heard many of the stories before. Yet somehow... They never became old.

Nearly forty minutes later, Enzo guided the Cavallo into the airport's long-term parking area. The terminal bustled with holiday travelers. Families carrying wrapped presents. Businessmen dressed in dark suits. Children pressing their faces against enormous observation windows as aircraft taxied across the airfield. Above the entrance hung a large illuminated sign welcoming passengers to Manhattan Metropolitan Airport. Inside, the atmosphere felt elegant rather than rushed.

Passengers checked in at polished wooden counters staffed by neatly dressed airline representatives. Porters pushed brass luggage carts across the polished floors. Christmas garlands decorated nearly every information desk. Enzo approached one of the counters where a smiling young woman greeted them.

"Good morning, sir."

"Welcome to Atlantic Continental Airways." James glanced toward the elegant company logo embroidered on her navy-blue uniform. A silver falcon stretched across a blue globe. This airline had quickly become one of America's fastest-growing domestic carriers during the 1960s, earning a reputation for punctuality and exceptional service. Enzo handed over their paper tickets.

"Good morning."

"We're traveling to Las Vegas." The employee smiled warmly as she checked their reservation.

"Mr. Enzo Lombardi and James Lombardi." She looked up.

"I hope you both enjoy your Christmas vacation."

"Thank you," Enzo replied. Within a few minutes, their luggage had been tagged and sent toward the aircraft. The airline representative handed Enzo two boarding passes printed on thick cream-colored cardstock.

"Boarding begins at ten fifteen."

"Gate Four."

"Thank you."

"My pleasure."

The waiting lounge overlooked the runway through enormous glass windows. James settled into one of the chairs while Enzo purchased two small bottles of orange juice from a nearby kiosk. Around them, passengers quietly read newspapers, chatted with family members, or watched aircraft arrive and depart. Every few minutes, a calm female voice echoed through the terminal announcing departures. James couldn't help comparing it with the airports of his previous life. Everything felt... Slower. More relaxed.

People dressed formally for flights. Men wore suits and ties. Women wore dresses, hats, or elegant coats. Flying still carried an air of prestige. It wasn't merely transportation. It was an event. Enzo handed James one of the bottles.

"What are you thinking about?" James looked out toward the runway.

"How different everything feels." Enzo followed his gaze.

"It does."

"When I first came to America..."

"I never imagined I'd one day be boarding airplanes for Christmas vacations." He smiled quietly.

"Life can surprise you." James nodded.

"It certainly can." A few minutes later, the announcement they had been waiting for echoed through the lounge.

"Atlantic Continental Airways Flight 217 to Las Vegas is now boarding through Gate Four." Enzo stood, picked up their carry-on bags, and smiled at his grandson.

"Come on."

"Nevada is waiting for us." James rose to his feet.

"And so is the future." ☆☆☆☆☆☆ James and Enzo joined the orderly line forming outside Gate Four. There were no long security checkpoints or crowded boarding bridges as James remembered from the twenty-first century. Instead, an airport employee collected each passenger's boarding pass, tore off the matching stub, and wished them a pleasant journey before directing everyone toward the tarmac. The cold December air immediately greeted them.

Several passengers instinctively pulled their coats tighter as they stepped outside. Parked ahead stood their aircraft. It was an elegant Atlantic Continental Airways twin-engine jet painted in polished aluminum. A dark blue stripe ran the length of the fuselage, ending beneath the airline's silver falcon emblem on the tail. Ground crews worked methodically around the airplane. A fuel truck stood beneath one wing. Baggage handlers loaded suitcases into the cargo hold.

Another employee removed the wheel chocks while exchanging a few words with the cockpit crew. James stopped for a brief second to admire the aircraft. Flying had always fascinated him. Even after decades of technological advances in his previous life, there was still something magical about watching a machine carrying dozens of people rise into the sky. Enzo noticed his grandson staring.

"First time you've really looked at one?" James smiled.

"I guess I never paid enough attention before." Enzo nodded approvingly.

"Your grandmother used to say airplanes were proof that stubborn people could accomplish anything." James looked at him with curiosity.

"How so?" Enzo chuckled as they slowly climbed the mobile staircase.

"Because someone once looked at a bird..."

"... and refused to accept that humans couldn't do the same." James laughed.

"That does sound like Grandma Claire."

"It certainly does."

A smiling flight attendant welcomed each passenger at the entrance. She wore Atlantic Continental Airways' distinctive navy-blue uniform, complete with white gloves and a matching pillbox hat.

"Good morning."

"Welcome aboard." Enzo politely tipped his hat.

"Thank you." She glanced toward James and smiled warmly.

"And welcome to you too, young man." James returned the smile.

"Thank you, ma'am." Inside, the cabin reflected the elegance that commercial aviation still enjoyed during the era. The seats were wider than James remembered from modern airliners, upholstered in dark blue fabric with polished chrome armrests. Soft reading lamps lined the overhead panels, while large oval windows allowed generous views outside. Passengers carefully placed coats into overhead racks before settling into their assigned seats. Enzo found Row Eight without difficulty.

"You take the window." James looked at him.

"Are you sure?" Enzo smiled.

"You've been looking out every airport window since we arrived."

"I'd be a terrible grandfather if I took the better seat." James grinned.

"Thanks." He slid into the window seat while Enzo settled beside him.

Within a few minutes, the cabin door closed. The captain's calm voice came over the speaker.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Robert Hayes speaking. On behalf of Atlantic Continental Airways, I'd like to welcome you aboard Flight 217 with nonstop service to Las Vegas, Nevada."

"Our estimated flight time today is just under five hours, and weather conditions along our route are excellent."

"We expect a smooth flight."

"Sit back, relax, and enjoy your journey." The engines gradually came alive. At first they produced only a low vibration. Then the sound steadily deepened until the entire aircraft seemed to hum with restrained power. James instinctively rested his arm against the window. Outside, a marshaller guided the aircraft backward with illuminated paddles before stepping safely aside. The jet slowly began taxiing toward the runway. Enzo folded his newspaper and placed it inside the seat pocket.

"I still enjoy this part." James smiled.

"The takeoff?" Enzo nodded.

"It reminds me that no matter how heavy something seems..."

"... it can still rise." James quietly reflected on those words. His grandfather probably meant the airplane. James couldn't help applying them to life itself.

The aircraft turned onto the runway and came to a complete stop. For several seconds... Nothing happened. Then the engines roared. The sudden acceleration pressed both passengers gently into their seats as the aircraft surged forward. Buildings flashed past the windows. Taxiways disappeared beneath them. The runway markings blurred together. Then... Almost imperceptibly... The wheels left the ground. New York began shrinking beneath them. James watched silently as Manhattan unfolded below like a living map.

Snow-covered rooftops. The East River. Bridges stretching across the water. Tiny yellow taxicabs moving like ants through the city streets. Even Thompson Manufacturing's neighborhood somewhere in Brooklyn disappeared into the distance. Clouds gradually surrounded the aircraft. Within moments... New York was gone. Only an endless sea of brilliant white remained outside the window. James leaned back in his seat. For the first time since awakening in October... He truly felt as though he was leaving the past behind.

The next chapter of his plan... Would begin the moment they landed in Nevada. ☆☆☆☆☆☆ For nearly an hour, the flight remained remarkably smooth. The steady hum of the engines blended with the occasional rustle of newspapers and the quiet conversations of fellow passengers. Every now and then, a child laughed somewhere farther back in the cabin before being gently hushed by his parents. James looked out the window. The clouds had begun to thin, revealing an endless patchwork of snow-covered farmland below.

Small towns appeared every so often, connected by long ribbons of highway and railroad tracks that stretched toward the horizon. It was strange. From thirty thousand feet, the country looked peaceful. Simple. The countless businesses, families, dreams, and struggles taking place below were invisible from up here. Enzo unfolded the New York Herald he had purchased at the airport.

"You've already finished yours." James smiled.

"I read faster."

"I've noticed." Enzo adjusted his glasses before turning to the business section.

"I wonder how long this recession talk is going to continue." James glanced toward the headline. American manufacturing had entered a period of uncertainty. Inflation was beginning to creep upward, competition from overseas manufacturers was slowly increasing, and economists couldn't seem to agree on what the next few years would look like. To most passengers, it was just another newspaper article. To James... It was another reminder that the decade ahead would test countless businesses.

"Another reason Thompson can't become complacent."

A little later, one of the flight attendants began moving through the cabin with a polished serving cart. Unlike the quick snack service James remembered from his previous life, meals were included as part of the ticket. She stopped beside their row.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen." Enzo smiled warmly.

"Good afternoon."

"We're serving lunch now." She carefully placed two trays on their folding tables. Each meal consisted of sliced roast beef, mashed potatoes, buttered vegetables, a fresh bread roll, a small salad, and a slice of apple pie for dessert. Real silverware. Real porcelain plates. Even cloth napkins. James couldn't help smiling. Flying really had been different. Enzo noticed.

"What?"

"I was just thinking..." James picked up his fork.

"This is better than some restaurants." Enzo laughed.

"That's because airlines still compete on service."

"I suppose they do." The meal passed comfortably. They spoke about ordinary things. School. Christmas. The factory. Nothing related to James's true reason for choosing Las Vegas. That conversation would wait until tomorrow morning.

After lunch, Enzo leaned back in his seat.

"You know..." James looked over.

"I've been thinking about something."

"What is it?" Enzo folded his hands over his stomach.

"When your parents were alive..."

"We always talked about taking a family trip out west." His voice softened.

"We never managed to do it." James remained quiet.

"They were always busy."

"Joseph with the factory."

"Taylor helping raise you."

"And before we realized it..."

"They were gone." The cabin seemed quieter for a moment. James gently rested his hand over his grandfather's.

"I think they'd be happy we're doing it now." Enzo looked toward the window.

"I'd like to believe that." After a long pause, a faint smile returned to his face.

"They would've spoiled you rotten." James laughed.

"I think you already do."

"I do not."

"You absolutely do." Enzo shook his head dramatically.

"I merely provide reasonable quantities of good food."

"And Christmas presents."

"And birthday presents."

"And baseball gloves."

"And books."

"And—" Enzo raised a finger.

"Those were all essential." James burst into laughter.

"So convenient."

"It is." Their laughter drew amused smiles from a few nearby passengers. For a little while... Neither of them thought about business. Or money. Or the future. They were simply a grandfather and his grandson enjoying a holiday together.

Several hours later, the scenery outside began changing. The vast farmland gradually gave way to rugged hills. Then mountains. The snow became less frequent. The landscape turned brown and gold. Rivers grew scarce. Vegetation became sparse. The captain's voice returned over the speaker.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've begun our descent into Las Vegas."

"The local time is approximately one-thirty in the afternoon."

"The weather is sunny with a temperature of sixty-two degrees."

"We hope you've enjoyed flying with Atlantic Continental Airways." James immediately looked out the window again. The desert stretched as far as the eye could see. Towering mountain ranges surrounded a broad valley bathed in winter sunlight. Then... The city appeared. Compared with New York, Las Vegas looked almost tiny. A compact collection of buildings surrounded by miles upon miles of open desert. The famous resort corridor immediately caught James's attention.

Even from the air, the towering signs were unmistakable. The Silver Star Hotel, where they would be staying. The Stardust Resort. The Golden Palace. The Desert Crown. The Royal Frontier. Each property competed to build taller signs, brighter marquees, and more extravagant architecture than its neighbors. Beyond that narrow stretch of luxury... The city quickly gave way to ordinary neighborhoods and empty desert. Enzo let out a low whistle.

"I've seen photographs..." He shook his head.

"They really don't do it justice." James nodded.

"No..."

"They don't." As the aircraft descended lower, the details became clearer. Wide boulevards. Classic American automobiles cruising beneath towering neon signs. Palm trees lining hotel entrances. Construction crews already preparing new developments on the outskirts of town. Las Vegas was still young. Still growing. Still reinventing itself. James smiled quietly. Tomorrow... It would unknowingly become the birthplace of his financial future.