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My friend Joe went away to college at a small liberal arts school in Vermont and met Sarah there during orientation week. She was this down-to-earth girl from Connecticut who wore thrift store clothes, worked in the campus coffee shop, and always split dinner bills down to the penny. Halfway through freshman year, they were on again, off again for a few months before deciding to date seriously.

Joe came from a working-class family in Ohio. His dad was a mechanic, his mom worked at the local grocery store, and he was at college on student loans and construction job savings. Sarah seemed to be in a similar financial situation—she had a work-study job, ate ramen noodles, and complained about textbook prices.

In junior year, they met each other's families during visits. Joe's parents drove up in their 2008 Honda Civic, stayed at a Motel 6, and took everyone to Applebee's. Sarah's parents seemed equally normal—they drove a modest Toyota Camry, stayed at the same chain hotel, and her mom brought homemade cookies.

Sarah's family was polite, warm, and completely down-to-earth. Her dad talked about his job in "finance" but never elaborated, and her mom mentioned doing "volunteer work." There wasn't a whiff of arrogance or expensive accessories.

Sarah continued working her campus coffee shop job, driving a beat-up 2005 Honda Accord that barely started in winter, and living in the cheapest dorm available. She'd get excited about finding deals at Target and would stress about spending money beyond necessities.

Fast forward to the end of senior year. Joe's paternal grandfather, who had essentially raised him after his parents' divorce, was suddenly hospitalized and put on life support after a massive stroke. The doctors said he had maybe 24-48 hours left.

Joe was absolutely devastated. His grandfather had been more than a grandparent—he was Joe's mentor, best friend, and the person who'd encouraged him to be the first in his family to go to college. Joe desperately wanted to get home to Ohio to say goodbye, but there was a massive problem.

They went to school in a tiny Vermont town with only a small regional airport. The closest major airport was Burlington, three hours away, and neither had a car on campus. There were no direct flights from Burlington to Cleveland, so Joe was looking at multiple connections and delays that would take at least 18-20 hours.

Joe was frantically calling airlines, trying to find any combination of flights that could get him home faster, but everything was booked or delayed. He was pacing around their dorm room, nearly in tears.

"I can't miss this," he kept saying. "He's the most important person in my life. I have to say goodbye."

That's when Sarah, who had been quietly watching Joe fall apart, stood up and said, "Pack a bag. We're leaving in ten minutes."

"Sarah, we've been through this. There's no way to get there in time."

"Just trust me," she said, already grabbing her keys.

Without another word, Sarah pulled Joe into a taxi and gave the driver an address Joe didn't recognize. Instead of heading toward Burlington, they drove to the tiny regional airport that Joe had dismissed as useless.

When they arrived, Joe was confused to see Sarah walking confidently toward the private aviation terminal. Waiting on the tarmac was a sleek Gulfstream G650 with "HARRISON FAMILY" painted discretely on the side.

Joe stopped walking. "Sarah, what the hell is going on?"

"My family's plane," she said simply. "It'll get you to Cleveland in two hours."

Joe and his family were completely astounded. They had no idea Sarah's family was wealthy—and especially not private-jet wealthy.

As they walked toward the plane, Joe was trying to process what was happening. "Sarah, your dad works in finance. Your mom volunteers. You work at a coffee shop and drive a car held together with duct tape."

Sarah shrugged. "My dad owns a hedge fund. My mom runs a foundation. And I work because I want to, not because I have to."

Joe made it to the hospital with hours to spare. He got to hold his grandfather's hand, tell him about college, and say a proper goodbye. His grandfather passed peacefully the next morning.

When it was time to return to school, Sarah arranged for Joe to fly back commercial—coach, just like any other college student. She never mentioned the private plane again.

They are now married and both doing well in their careers, living a completely normal middle-class life. But every once in a while, they disappear off to some remote island or jungle for a few days a year—and don't tell anyone but their family where they're going.