I couldn’t wait to get to Boston. That would mean the tour was half over and there were only six more concerts.
* * * *
When I arrived at Logan International Airport in Boston, a uniformed chauffeur was waiting with a sign that read C. Anthony. I introduced myself and he sped my luggage into the limo.
“Which hotel am I staying in?” I asked as I settled into the back seat.
“I wasn’t told to bring you to a hotel. I’m to take you to the White Estate.”
Really? I couldn’t comprehend this treatment. Was this just for lunch?
I looked around as we entered through a gate and continued onto the property. There wasn’t a lot of land but what there was, was manicured to perfection. Beds of flowers and bushes lined the driveway and the edges of the property.