“Leave the poor man alone.” Sadie jabbed her sister, Lily, with her elbow. “You’re embarrassing him.”
Undeterred, her sister only fluttered her eyelashes at Leo as she picked a chair closest to him. “Given his war record I bet nothing flusters him. Am I right, gorgeous?”
Vera paused in fixing herself a frothy pink cocktail. Holding a cut glass stopper above the decanter, she arched an eyebrow in Leo’s direction. “Are you absolutelycertainyou wouldn’t care for a drink?”
To Mattie’s shock, the notorious teetotaler looked rather longingly at the gin. Slowly and with a surprising amount of reluctance, Leo shook his head.
“Oh, do stop tormenting the poor man.” The Vera look-alike headed to the table of bottles. Choosing whiskey, she mixed up an old-fashioned and then turned to address the rest of the group. “I’m Alice Kunkle, by the way, and Vera’s cousin.”
“Always the mother hen looking out for everyone, Alice.” Vera bussed her relative’s cheek before she draped herself onto a chaise longue.
“Well, someone must cluck over all of you.” Alice swirled her drink. “And, Leo, don’t worry that you are to be entirely besieged by females. My husband, John, will be joining us in a few days. He and I are both trapeze artists and will be wing-walkers along with Vera, Aida, and Lily.”
Mattie glanced around the group crowded on the veranda and realized with startling clarity that she found herself surrounded by women. In fact, Leo was the sole male occupant—a sharp reversal of their normal roles in their male-dominated flying team.
“Alice’s grandmother was a sister to mine,” Vera explained. “We come from a long line of aerialists.”
“And of course, Vera recruited my husband and me to perform for her new enterprise,” Alice said. “I must warn you that he will bebringing our three children with him—two girls and a boy. Some might call themwild, but I preferprecocious. They range in age from four to ten. They are accustomed to life on the road and are thrilled that Mama and Papa will be flying in air-o-planes, as my youngest calls them.”
“Milly, who’s the baby, takes the wooden model airplane that I gave her to bed with her,” Vera explained. “She also dresses it up in doll clothes. It may be the cutest thing I have ever witnessed.”
“She calls it Planey and gets very upset if you do not refer to it as a girl.”
This announcement was met with a chorus ofawwws from everyone, except for Leo. He did, however, issue a rather sentimental-sounding grunt.
Mattie’s heart simply melted at the idea of a little child falling in such love with her aircraft. She also adored that Vera had gifted the girl with a toy most would relegate to the world of boys’ playthings. Glancing around at the women, Mattie realized that each one was bold in her own unique way—even Lily for all her outward silliness. Mattie felt a sense of comradery fall over her that she’d never experienced—never even thought possible. She had not fit in before, not entirely. She’d been deemed too girlish by the boys and too boyish by the girls. But here, she didn’t feel like she straddled two spheres. Among these women—who fixed automobiles, chased after trespassers, and embraced little girls who treated their airplanes like dolls—Mattie might just have finally found her place.
Unease rippled through Leo, making his guts tighten. He recognized the sensation of his body gearing up for a danger that no longer existed. But no matter how many times Leo told himself that the Great War had drawn to a close almost five years ago, he had moments when the rest of him refused to believe that peace had been achieved. SometimesLeo understood what triggered the old now-unnecessary battle readiness; other times, it reared up like a striking rattler without reason or warning.
Tonight, he had no problem identifying the root of it. His palatial rooms in Vera’s turret reminded him too keenly of the château in France. He remembered staring at the old plush furnishings, ancient woodwork, and thick mullioned glass windows and wondering how the world could hold such beauty, such grandeur, as Alfred’s body lay somewhere over enemy lines. The Germans had respectfully buried him, but Leo only had received that confirmation after the armistice. During Leo’s endless nights at the exquisite former residence of the aristocracy, he’d been plagued with the urge to borrow a motorcycle and begin a suicidal dash over No Man’s Land in an attempt to retrieve the remains of his best friend. The desperate need to bring home Alfred’s body had lessened somewhat when their squadron had been transferred to another aerodrome with standard barracks. Being back in a military setting had made the loss of Alfred less immediately raw, the spartan living conditions mirroring the harshness and emptiness of war instead of offering a cruel, luxurious contrast to the suffering.
It was odd, though, how the exterior of another, older château had been one of Leo’s favorite landmarks to confirm his flight path. The proud, ancient stone had reminded Leo of the continuity of life through all the horrors of history and had given him a sense of comfort whenever he’d flown over the tall, unyielding fortress.
Yet being inside a castle—inside the opulence—made him uncomfortable. And Vera’s house affected him the same way, stirring up his normally tightly sealed emotions like wind from propeller blades aggravating a thatch of tall weeds and dispersing the unwanted but tenacious seeds.
Realizing he wouldn’t get to sleep for hours, if at all, Leo rose from his bed. Stretching did little to relieve either his physical or internal tension. He didn’t bother to turn on a light. Fresh air would help betterthan illumination. Striding quickly, he headed directly to the open window, where the gauzy curtains fluttered in the breeze. Unfortunately, in the darkness, he didn’t notice the writing desk. Ornate and delicate like the rest of Vera’s fairy-tale decor, the furniture had no bulk to counter the force of the collision. The dainty table clattered to the ground, creating a surprisingly loud, resounding bang. Leo cringed, hoping he hadn’t woken anyone.
This time he did head toward the nightstand, wanting to turn on a lamp to assess any damage he might have done to the functional art piece. Unfortunately, in his rush, he did something he rarely did. He miscalculated the distance. He knocked his shin against the table with another loud thwack. The corner of the nightstand gouged him in the exact same spot that the writing desk had. Before he could stop himself, he emitted a rather loud grunt. He managed to cut it off in a rather strangled “Ermph,” but it still echoed through the massive room.
Leo heard the floorboards creak above him. He jammed his hand into his hair as he realized that he must have woken Mattie. Sure enough, he heard her pad across her room and then tread down the stairs. When her knock came, even though he’d realized her intent, he still stood frozen, staring at the space where he remembered the door being.
“Leo?” Mattie’s voice came soft and quiet... and definitely concerned. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Leo said as he belatedly flipped on the light. The Louis Tiffany dragonfly lamp didn’t add a lot of illumination, but it was better than the previous darkness.
“Can I come in?” Mattie called again.
Leo glanced down at his sleeveless union suit. Although it covered everything important, his body heated at the thought of Mattie seeing him like this. “Ah, just a moment.”
Hastily, he pulled his shirt over his head. It took him a little longer to yank up his trousers, but he moved as quickly as he could. “I’m ready now.”
The door inched open, revealing a rather wild-haired Mattie. She, too, had taken time to throw on clothes, but she still looked like she’d just tumbled from bed.
Hell, he really should not think abouttumbledandbedin conjunction with Mattie.
Unlike him, she didn’t seem at all embarrassed by this midnight encounter. She stepped into his room like it was broad daylight, apparently oblivious to how the low glow shining through the art glass cast an intimate warmth over the richly appointed apartment. Years ago, Leo had sneaked out at night with Mattie, but Alfred had always been with them. Now it was just the two of them... and they weren’t youths any longer.
“I heard a crash and a thud.” Mattie peered around his room.
