“That’s precisely what I like about the future.” Mattie added some decorative dribbles to the castle. They landed haphazardly but in a rather delightfully wild way. “Ever since the end of the war—the horrible, horrible, life-altering war—there’s a... I don’t know... achangein the air, like spring’s rebirth after winter’s devastation.”
“There was a château that was my favorite. It was one of my landmarks when I was over German-occupied territory.” Leo suddenly shifted back to their previous conversation, and Mattie wondered if she’d made a mistake mentioning the Great War again. “It got hit by shells, maybe even from the Allies, since it happened during one of the last drives of the campaign. I don’t know if they’ll ever rebuild it.”
“Maybe they’ll erect something better, stronger even?” Mattie suggested softly. “Maybe it’ll even be designed by an architect like Mary Colter.”
“The Santa Fe Railroad architect? Her ideas wouldn’t make much sense in the French countryside.”
Mattie peered over the castle. “I didn’t mean her precisely—just that a female might create the new structure. We’re not just shortening our skirts and bobbing our hair; we’re trying to do so much more.”
Leo didn’t snort like her brothers would have done. Instead, he shifted so he could regard her fully, the sun no longer blocking his face. “Maybe some traditions need changing, but that doesn’t mean we discard everything, does it? Cautious change is good.”
“I’m all for a little revolution. We women have waited too long for incremental advances.”
Leo rocked back on his heels. An odd whisper of excitement shot through Mattie as his blue eyes bored into hers. She didn’t know if he’d ever held her gaze this long. Certainly, he’d never done so without talking. Part of her wanted to squirm, but she remained still, allowing both the inspection and the burgeoning awareness growing inside her.
The sound of the lapping water and the cries of the birds cocooned them, holding them in this moment and safeguarding them from the interruptions of the world. Mattie had never felt so conscious of another human being before. An odd connection seemed to shimmer between them, not visible, certainly not tangible, but palpable all the same.
Leo opened his mouth to speak, but Vera’s voice called out from the knoll above them. “So this is where you two disappeared to! I can’t wait to hear what you’ve dreamed up. I hope you haven’t been too much of a bluenose, Leo.”
Mattie shaded her eyes and caught sight of Vera silhouetted against the clear blue sky. The wind caught the bottom of her green skirt, ruffling the fabric around her knees. Vera lifted her cocktail glass, and Mattie could just make out the maraschino cherry cheerfully floating on top.
“Come rejoin us. Aida and Alice just devised the most outrageous stunt. It involves a motorcycle. Leo, I don’t suppose you rode any during the war?” Vera must have meant the question rhetorically, because shehad already turned, her drink still held high in the air as she picked her way through the tall grass.
Mattie exchanged a look with Leo and tipped her lips up into a smile. “Revolution?”
He jammed his hand into his hair as he stared after Vera. “Chaos. Pure chaos.”
Chapter Seven
“What isthat?” Vera pointed one rose-colored nail in the direction of a watermelon stuck to a stick in the middle of the training field. The white half-moon tip stabbed in the direction of the offending fruit.
Alice left Mattie’s side to link her arm with her cousin’s. “That represents you, dear. Isn’t it clever? I came up with it.”
“I need a target to aim at when I practice buzzing the ground for the stunt where you grab onto a ladder extending from my wing,” Mattie explained.
“Mattie and I calculated how high you would be when standing in the Duesenberg,” Carrie said. “The twig that we lashed to the stick is perfectly aligned with where your hand would be as you reach up.”
“It looks nothing like me.” Vera cocked her head and studied the melon disapprovingly as it slowly dripped red juice down the pole.
“It’s supposed to be a generalized representation, not an accurate model,” Aida pointed out. “You typically possess an extraordinarily healthy and active imagination, Vera. Picture it as you.”
Vera tapped her finger against her chin as she studied the speared fruit from all angles. “It needs a hat.”
“A hat?” Leo, who had been standing on the fringe of their group, choked out the words.
“Yes.” Vera gave a sharp nod of patent satisfaction. “One of my cloches. I know just the one.”
Vera waggled her fingers without even looking back at the group as she headed toward her Duesenberg and climbed in. When a Model T came puttering up the road from the castle, Vera tootled the horn merrily.
“I believe that is my family,” Alice said, shielding her eyes. Sure enough, when the black motorcar stopped, three children poured out, followed by a tall ginger-haired man.
A chorus ofMamas rang through the air as the little trio dashed toward the aerialist. The youngest, a little moppet with a wild mane of strawberry-blonde hair, did her best to keep up with her older siblings, who looked to be about seven and ten. She did an admirable job, her sturdy little legs pumping furiously as she clutched a blue toy plane in her hand.
Alice crouched down to enfold her offspring in her outstretched arms. A chorus of high-pitched voices rang through the sedges.
“I found a bug, Mama.”
“We saw three airplanes on our way here!”
