Page 11 of Plane Passion

“Speaking of which, are you sure you don’t want to settle down? Sounds like you like this new girl of yours. I can assure you that matrimony with the right woman is a delight.”

“You sound like my mother.” His face heated. With his fellow bachelors, playing the field was something he might brag about, but admitting it to a married man, even when that man was O’Donnell, made him feel slightly abashed.

“Watch yourself. The parson’s trap comes for everyone eventually.”

“Ha! Not for me. I’m perfectly content as I am,” he said, though a splinter of doubt wedged its way into his conscience.

Suddenly, he didn’t want to be there anymore, so he pulled out his pocket watch. “Just look at the time! I should head out to the restaurant.” He finished off the last of his drink.

Saying goodbye to O’Donnell, he headed up to the street and flagged down a taxi.

Directing the cabbie to Chez Louis, he arrived at 8 p.m. on the dot, just in time to catch Vera getting out of a cab of her own—one leg then the other, then a little shimmy as she stood.

She looked smashing in a slinky green satin dress that clung to her petite frame. Even with heels on, the top of her head barely reached his chin. He bent over and kissed her cheek.

“I love that dress on you, sweetheart,” he murmured in her ear, then offered his arm to take her into the restaurant.

She beamed as she clutched his arm and sauntered beside him with swinging hips.

The maître d’ led them through the maze of round tables with crisp white tablecloths and napkins folded to look like fans. Dangling globe lights made the curving, wood paneled ceiling and walls shine with honey-colored light. The place had the sleek lines of a radio, and Vera seemed delighted.

As they were sitting down, he glanced at the neighboring table only to see Millie Aldrich, Katherine Stinson, and a woman he didn’t recognize, all dressed to the nines and chattering excitedly.

Dear God. Was there no escaping this woman?

4

“So I’m dying to hear how things are going with the airmail,” said Katherine, looking like a gorgeous elf, her long dark hair pinned up in a flawless chignon. She set aside her menu and leaned in. “I know they considered my tenure a disaster. How are they treating you?”

Millie laughed, making the beads on her favorite dress tinkle. “They’re letting me fly but doing everything in their power to convince me to quit. I’m paired up with one Ernie Pritchard to learn the ropes. And you never heard a man so backward in his opinions about women. He says we’re a distraction, and it’s too dangerous for us.”

“Why should his distraction be our problem?” said Gertie, patting her perfectly coiffed auburn bob.

“Exactly,” said Millie.

“Too dangerous my foot,” said Katherine. “Have they forgotten that I was the first person to deliver the mail all the way from New York to Chicago, and that I set a distance record on the way back?”

Millie shook her head. “Oh, they remember the distance record all right. This Pritchard fellow just broke it. And, of course, they remember the race that wasn’t a race between Philadelphia and New York. They’ll never let you live down ‘winning’ a training flight.”

“I still can’t believe I was forced to quit over something so silly.” Katherine took a swig of her water as if it had something more exciting inside.

“Tell us more about this pilot who broke Katherine’s record and dares to denigrate lady pilots,” Gertie said.

“He’s a damned good pilot and thinks that makes him God’s gift to women.” Millie took another sip of her water.

“I know the type,” Gertie said. “Is he good looking?”

“Very.” Much as it pained her to admit it.

“Arrogant.”

“In the extreme.”

“Thinks he walks on water.”

“Isn’t that all pilots?” Katherine interjected. “Ourselves included,” she added with a grin.

“Does he swagger like that fellow that just took the table next to us with that cute brunette?” Gertie asked, leaning in so as not to be overheard.