His father made no move to grab the newspaper. He just stared at it like it was an incendiary device.
“If you want, I can read it to you,” Leo offered. He wouldn’t even need to pick through the sentences. Even though it wasn’t a short article, he had each word memorized.
Clive didn’t say anything. He glared at the broadsheet a second longer before he seemed to shrink in upon himself. Every tenuous link between them had been permanently severed, if any had ever existed in the first place. Without a parting word, the man slunk away, back to the murky world where he dwelled, a phantom who could no longer haunt Leo or those he loved.
Mattie pressed her warm fingers against his forearm. “How do you feel?”
“Unburdened.” The word tumbled from Leo’s lips automatically, and the beautiful truth of it filled him.
“I’m so glad.” Mattie brushed her lips against his, and he tasted a quiet peace he’d never experienced before.
“Is he gone?” Vera popped her head into the open doorway, her voice sounding... off, almost like an engine with a bad carburetor.
“Yes, why? Is something wrong?” Mattie sounded as concerned as Leo was.
Vera rubbed the bridge of her nose with her gloved hand, suddenly looking impossibly young. She exuded such a prepossessing command it was easy to forget that she was only in her midtwenties.
“I... I think I may find myself in rare need of advice. Normally, I am the one dispensing it, but I find myself a bit at a loss. And given how you’ve handled Clive with such aplomb, I was wondering if you could help me come to terms with my own parents’ sabotage.”
The words were not spoken melodramatically but with a heartbreaking matter-of-factness. Mattie instantly rose and embraced her friend. To Leo’s shock, the indomitable heiress broke into tears.
“Benji Pringle told the police this afternoon that he had nothing to do with Crenshaw’s tampering with the plane, but he confessed that he had been purposely trying to bankrupt my circus with bad press. My... my parents, who are friends with the owners of theChicago Advance Leader, have been paying,paying, him to pen negative articles.”
“Oh, Vera!” Mattie gasped. “I’m so sorry.”
Vera pulled back and gave a watery, self-depreciating smile. Despite her smudged mascara and eyeliner, she still managed to look stunningly beautiful. “They want me to marry, you see. To get them a title. It’s the only thing they’ve ever agreed upon. And I am ruining their plan with my independence. They want my dream broken so they can instead offer the fairy tale that all good little girls are supposed to desire: wedded bliss with a rich, landed man. A damn modern princess.”
Vera’s violet-blue eyes were huge and glistening as she turned them on Leo. “How do you deal with such betrayal by a parent?”
He should have felt cornered by the question. After all, he wasn’t one for emotion. But the answer came to him so naturally, so automatically, he didn’t have time for discomfort.
“You rely on your family, Vera. The one you’ve made. For me, it’s the McAdamses. For you, it’s the Flying Flappers. You’ve created a solid unit, Vera. Now, it’s time for you to lean on us.”
“It’s hard to say no to you ladies.” Mr.Fabin, the founder of Fabin Flyer, smiled jovially as his gaze swept around the Flying Flappers, who were gathered in Leo’s hospital room. When the businessman’s gaze met the war hero’s, his expression solidified into something more serious. “And gentleman.”
“So is that a yes to Fabin Flyer sponsoring and providing the planes for a rematch between Miss McAdams and Mr.Crenshaw at Canyon of the Bridges? And that the winner gets his or her very own Fabin?” Vera asked, her voice both gracious and no nonsense at the same time. As far as Mattie could tell, her friend had buried all hints of her vulnerability over her parents’ machinations under her heavily armored flapper persona.
Mr.Fabin, a handsome man in his early forties, nodded at Vera and gave a rueful grin. “I might regret it, but my company will agree to your proposal.”
“You won’t have any cause for regret.” Mattie spoke up, her heart thudding against her chest. “It will salvage all of our reputations.” And it had better. Rockol had called her last night and had agreed to keep her as spokeswoman only if she could improve the press coverage.
Mr.Fabin exhaled. “I certainly hope so, Miss McAdams. Our status as an impeccable engineering firm has taken quite a hit due to Mr.Crenshaw’s dangerous games. It was one of the main selling points of our planes. Even if we can drum up publicity with this second race, I’m not sure if we’ll convince the army or the navy that our aircrafts have the best safety features in the world.”
“I know a way to guarantee that they will.” Mattie’s body felt like it did right before takeoff—her muscles tensed, her mind focused, her limbs ready for action.
“Do you now, little lady?” Mr.Fabin seemed amused, but Mattie refused to allow that to irk her. Instead, she gave him the kind of smile that Vera would deliver. Bold. Assured. In control.
“Yes, and I’ll tell you, but you’ll need to sign this first.” Mattie filled her chest with air as she reached in the hand-tooled satchel Aida had given her this morning for this very purpose. Inside it was all the paperwork prepared by Vera’s attorneys—no,Mattie’sattorneys. The heiress had told her it was high time for Mattie to start considering that the lawyers weren’t on loan but were representing Mattie herself.
Mr.Fabin’s brown eyes widened in surprise as he stared at the sheets of paper extended in his direction. Then he laughed. “Are you serious? You won’t tell me what it is unless I sign a contract?”
Nervousness fluttered through Mattie, along with a sense of hopelessness. How would she ever convince businessmen to accept her and her ideas as genuine if they viewed her attempts to negotiate as a jolly joke? Her hand shook just a little, and the legal document fluttered. She almost drew her hand back, but then she felt it. The wonderful feeling of silent support.
She turned to find all the women of the Flying Flappers nodding at her. She knew even without looking that Leo was doing the same. The papers in her hand stopped rustling as Mattie decided it was high time to stop letting Mr.Fabin pilot this particular conversation.
“It is a confidentiality agreement,” Mattie told him crisply. “You will find that when it comes to safety and airplanes, I amalwaysserious. My twin brother died during the Great War, and if he’d had the equipment that I am proposing to license to you, he might not have flown further into enemy territory and been ambushed.”
The man’s mirth died but not his skepticism. “What exactly do you think you have dreamed up?”
