Page 19 of Plane Passion

She turned her attention to the man himself, enthroned behind his desk in a chair fit for a king, his face cast in shadow until he leaned forward.

“You’re two minutes late,” he grumbled before getting up to shake her hand. “Please take a seat, Miss Aldrich.”

As during their previous meetings, he looked imposing in his perfectly tailored suit with his sharp eyes and receding snowy hair. There was a calculating look to him that never seemed to leave him, as if in every situation, he was weighing his strategic advantage. The man had a ruthless reputation, and Millie didn’t trust him an inch. But Mr. Burleson was nothing if not an opportunist. He needed her however much he hated it, and she knew it.

“Good evening, Mr. Burleson.” She took a seat in the unpadded, straight-backed chair opposite him. Was it her imagination, or was the seat lower than usual? It was as if he chose the chair specifically to make whoever was in his office ill at ease. “You wanted to meet with me?”

“Yes, I want an update on your progress. Have you settled in with the airmail operation?” His gruff tone of voice made it clear that he wasn’t asking to be nice.

“Yes, Mr. Burleson. I’ve settled in.” She wasn’t about to mention the hazing she’d received. Any signs of weakness would get her thrown out on her ear.

“Good. Good.” His smile held no warmth. “And how soon can you break a record so that we can do a newspaper feature?”

Wasn’t it a bit early for him to be asking? “Mr. Burleson, I thought I had until Christmas.”

He made a rumbling noise in his throat. “I’m afraid I need you to speed things up. The Senate Appropriations Committee wants to cut the airmail operation altogether, and I need to show broad public support for it as soon as possible, or that’s the end of flying the mail. I need to show that women voters are on my side. You have a month.”

Millie gulped. That was barely enough time for her to learn the routes let alone set a new record.

“You look like you have doubts. Should I find someone else? Maybe I could get Katherine Stinson to come back.”

Millie happened to know that Katherine wouldn’t come back no matter what Mr. Burleson offered, but there were plenty of other lady aviators out there anxious to make their marks. And Millie didn’t want it to be anybody but her. She hated losing out to anyone on anything and wasn’t about to let someone else steal this opportunity.

“I’ll do it, Mr. Burleson. Have no fear. There’s no need to get anyone else.”

“Good.” His gaze bored into her, and she wished she could get up and leave. “And you’ll stick to the rules?”

For a moment, a vision of blond hair, brown eyes, and a swallow tattoo made her cheeks heat, but she shook it away. There was no chance she’d break the rules for that low-life cad. “No fraternization, and our deal is a secret. I’ll stick to the rules.”

Too much depended on her. It was a heavy enough weight to know she was fighting for women to be allowed to fly the mail, but having the fate of the entire airmail operation on her shoulders made success an absolute necessity.

“I cannot emphasize enough how important it is that you do not say a word about any of this to anyone else, especially about the potential budget cuts. I don’t want anything to distract the men from running the best damn airmail service the world has ever seen.”

“I promise I won’t.” She wouldn’t dare. The consequences if the news got out would be too dire. The pilots would start looking for other jobs. Confidence in the airmail operation would plummet. And, of course, women would never be given the opportunity to fly the mail. She had to keep this secret at all costs, no matter how hard it might be to look her fellow pilots in the eyes over the month ahead.

Mr. Burleson nodded. “That is all. You’re dismissed.” He turned his attention to some papers on his desk and didn’t bother to rise to say goodbye.

She rose and hurried out, descending endless staircases until she emerged onto the busy thoroughfare of Eighth Avenue. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if someday there was a Postmistress General who would right all the wrongs of her predecessors? But given how long it had taken for women to win the vote, she didn’t have high hopes it would be anytime soon.

In the meantime, she had no choice but to play by Mr. Burleson’s rules. As she flagged down a cab, a newfound determination settled in. In the month ahead, she had to break a record, woo the press, save the airmail, and convince Ernie Pritchard to be a better man. That shouldn’t be too hard, should it?

7

Ernie would rather have been anywhere else with Vera, but she insisted.

“They say it’s going to be her last show. She’s retiring from the circuit. Please, Ernie?”

And so here he was, spending his Saturday standing in line for a ticket to Millie Aldrich’s air show at Belmont Racetrack. As if he didn’t see enough of her at work. As if she didn’t occupy his thoughts to a disturbing extent already.

Fortunately, there was no need for her ever to know he was here. The last thing he wanted her to think was that he was a fan. How embarrassing would that be?

The day was sunny and clear, with only the lightest of breezes—ideal flying conditions. The autumn air had a bite to it, and Vera, to his disappointment, had her lovely assets buttoned up beneath a tweed coat that reached her knees. Her dark bob was tucked neatly beneath a cute brown hat shaped like a bell that matched her jacket.

He looked forward to seeing what she wore underneath when they relaxed at a speakeasy after the show. Vera always knew how to make the most of her petite form.

At the moment, his date was bouncing on her toes, bobbing with excitement, trying to catch a glimpse of Millie who was signing autographs in the distance. He was grateful Vera already had the signed cocktail napkin and so wouldn’t insist on getting one herself.

Once they had their tickets, he was relieved that Vera pulled him over to a booth selling hot cider instead of joining the autograph line. They just had time to buy themselves piping hot beverages with cinnamon on top before taking their place in the stands. A boisterous crowd of onlookers milled about below, in front of the stands. The racetrack was almost as crowded as it was for the Belmont Stakes.