Twenty-four years? It was twenty-four years ago that she had been hanged in Boston in my 1692 path. Had something happened to her here, as well?
“Do you know where she is?”
“Who are you?” Mrs. Barclay demanded. “Why do you want to know?”
I hadn’t thought about how I would explain myself, so I simply said, “I’m Grace Cooper—I-I work for theNew York Globe.”
“Are you a reporter?”
“Yes.” But how was I going to connect that to my interest in Tacy?
“Why are you looking for her?” Her eyes turned into slits. “Is this about her acting?”
Acting? I frowned but took a chance. “Yes.”
“Tacy ran away from home twenty-four years ago, and the last I heard, she was in California, married to a movie director.” She curled her lips in disgust.
California? My mind raced with the implications. If I made the cross-country flight, I could look for her in California. I would need to wire theLos Angeles Examinerand see if someone could locate an address for me. I only had her first name and a former last name, but it might be enough.
“Do you know her married name?”
“I’ve told you enough.” Mrs. Barclay motioned toward the door. “You must leave, and do not say a word about me in the newspapers. I’ll sue theNew York Globeif you do.”
“Thank you for your time,” I said as I walked to the door. The butler appeared and opened it for me.
Mrs. Barclay did not respond as I stepped outside, stunned.
Luc got out of the automobile and walked around to open the passenger door. “That was fast. Did you find who you were looking for?”
I stood before him, amazed I had found Tacy’s mother. “No, but I learned she might be in California.”
A slow smile tilted up his lips. “Then that means you must go to California.”
“Luc—”
“Come,” he said as he offered me his hand and helped me into the automobile.
“Where are we going?”
He grinned. “Into the clouds.”
It took us an hour to get to the airfield in Hempstead where Luc kept his Blériot two-seater—and I trembled the whole way. Even though I was determined to learn to fly, it still frightened me beyond reason.
“You are as white as a ghost,” he said gently as he put the Model T in park and turned off the engine outside a hangar. There were dozens of aeroplanes on the field, next to the buildings, and in the air. Two mechanics looked up from their work, and both were shocked to see me. Did they think I was Hope?
“I’m not sure—” I began, but Luc put his hand over mine, and my entire body stilled.
He leaned close and said, “I know you are afraid, but I also know you are strong and brave and intelligent. You have what it takes to be a good flyer.”
“My sister just died in an aeroplane,” I whispered, my emotions making my voice quiver.
“All the more reason to overcome your fear and fly. She loved being in the air, and I know you will, too.” He was very serious as he regarded me. “I will not force you to do this. At any time, you can ask me to stop. You can trust me.”
He had said the same thing to me on our ride out of the city. But I had not stopped him.
I knew I would go through with it—because I owed it to Hope and to my parents. And I did trust Luc.
As he looked at me with those magnificent blue-green eyes, I suddenly wanted to do it for him, too.
