Page 57 of Air Affair

Mrs. O’Donnell deftly grabbed the green beans and passed them down without a glance in Hank’s direction. Her full attention was on the couple sitting in front of her. Hank could practically see the hearts and cupids circling above their heads in her mind’s eye.

How long was this dinner going to last, and how was he going to get Rory alone so that he could propose?

21

It was all too transparent what Mrs. O’Donnell was trying to do, and Rory felt she didn’t have much choice but to play along. Bill seemed like a nice enough fellow, but she couldn’t help but feel for poor Hank.

“Miss Belmont—” Hank began.

“And where were you staying before you came to us?” Mrs. O’Donnell asked at the same time, drowning Hank out.

“I…er…I was staying at a friend’s house. She was very gracious and let me stay while she was away.”

“Oh?” said Mrs. O’Donnell. “What’s her name? Maybe we know her. We do know practically everyone in this town.”

“Well…uh…she moved here recently, so you might not know her yet. Her name is…uh…Darla Hartley. She and I went to college together.”

She chanced a glance at Hank, and his mouth twitched as he tried to suppress a smile.

Bill was looking back and forth between the two of them as if trying to discern what exactly they were up to. It seemed like Bill knew or suspected that there was something between her and Hank…had she seen him somewhere before? He was too perceptive by half.

“Lieutenant O’Donnell,” Rory said to Bill, “how do you and Lieutenant Hawley know each other?”

Bill glanced at Hank before answering, “We met in the army. We were stationed in France together under Major Fleet, and now we both work for the postal service on their new Airmail operation. It’s all very experimental. It only started in June.”

She thought his face looked familiar. If he was with the airmail, then he was at the fundraiser, and that meant he knew exactly who she was. No wonder he looked so wide-eyed and amused.

“By any chance, did I meet you at the PBA fundraiser earlier this week?” she asked, keeping her voice light and nonchalant.

“Why yes,” Bill said. “I don’t believe we were introduced, but I was in attendance. A very impressive affair. You must be very pleased with how it all went.”

Clearing her throat, she said, “Um, yes. Very pleased.”

She wished she could find a quiet moment with him to beg him not to tell who she really was, but there was no opportunity to say anything without the whole table hearing. She would just have to pray he kept his mouth shut.

“And are you any relation of August Belmont’s?” he asked, making her choke on a green bean. “I noticed he was in attendance.”

She gave Hank a panicked glance. Bill, to her irritation, seemed to know exactly how much he’d ruffled her and seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

“He’s a…um…distant relative. Very supportive of his extended family.”

“Did you hear that, Finn?” Mrs. O’Donnell said in a none-too-quiet whisper. “A woman related to August Belmont beneath our roof. Can you imagine?” She looked like a kettle about to whistle from all the excitement.

Rory swallowed hard, trying to think what to say next to distract attention. “Mr. O’Donnell,” she said, turning to Bill. “You must be very brave flying the mail back and forth through all kinds of weather. Tell me everything about how it works. I find it fascinating.”

Having very little choice, Bill launched into an extended description of the intricacies of airmail service, all the while watching her with a hint of a smile. He was torturing her on purpose. She was sure of it.

When he finished, she followed up with, “Now tell me about the airplanes. I understand the Jennies aren’t made for this sort of thing. Is there any thought of replacing them?”

“I don’t know the details, but I know the major has been speaking with Glenn Curtiss about a new design. Hank might know more than I do. He’s the engineer among us.”

Hank looked grateful for the opening to say something, anything in this farce of a dinner. “I spoke with Glenn Curtiss about the new design at length earlier today. The new planes will have purpose-built cargo holds so that we don’t have to sit the mail in a cockpit, and they’ll have stronger engines and greater fuel capacity. They’ll make the daily runs significantly safer and more reliable once they’re in service.”

Mrs. O’Donnell gave Hank a disapproving look. “I’m sure we don’t want to bore Miss Belmont with technical details.” Never mind that she’d been nodding in rapt attention moments ago when her son was speaking about the mail service.

“Oh, no, Mrs. O’Donnell. He’s not boring me. I love airplanes. That’s part of how I ended up running the PBA, you know. I met a pilot who suggested that something should be done for war widows, so I started raising funds, and here we are.” And he was sitting right over there.

Hank raised an eyebrow. For all her desire for independence, she was starting to wish she’d opted to stay at Hank’s. They could be having an intimate dinner right now, or an intimate something else. Instead, she was stuck in this tightrope walk of a dinner conversation, barely able to speak to him.