Prince of Air Read Online Free PDF Page B

Christmas.”
    â€œGreat-Uncle Thorne,” Felix said.
    â€œElm Medona,” Maisie added.
    â€œAnd servants and fancy cars and tuxedos and”—their mother’s voice rose with each new word she said—“and . . . and . . . all sorts of nonsense!”
    â€œI kind of like living in the mansion,” Maisie admitted. “It’s fun.”
    â€œMy room scares me to death,” Felix said. “I mean, there’s a bull’s head on the wall.”
    They started to giggle.
    â€œHow about mine?” their mother said.
    They giggled even harder.
    Their mother was ensconced in the Aviatrix Room. Among his many interests, Phinneas Pickworth adored female pilots. According to Great-Uncle Thorne, he’d been engaged to at least two different ones. Whenever one visited Elm Medona, he put them up in what was now called the Aviatrix Room.
    â€œBrave Bess Coleman, Pancho Barnes, Amy Johnson,” their mother said through her laughter. “And only one of them survived her flying. It’s creepy living with all those dead women’s pictures and goggles and leather jackets everywhere.”
    â€œBut,” Maisie pointed out, “you have real airplane wings hanging from your ceiling. We don’t have anything that cool.”
    â€œYou have tusks,” Felix reminded his sister, which sent them all into a new fit of laughing.
    When they had caught their breaths again, their mother took a breath.
    â€œAll of this . . . this crazy stuff going on right now, it’s all temporary. You guys understand that, don’t you?” she said solemnly. “Soon enough we will be back upstairs, making our own beds and washing our own dishes.”
    â€œI can’t wait,” Felix said.
    Thinking of that apartment where they’d spent the months before Great-Uncle Thorne showed up made him miss his twin bed and the desk with the rickety leg where he did his homework and the three of them sitting around the enamel kitchen table eating spaghetti.
    â€œI can,” Maisie said. “I like being rich.”
    Their mother wagged a finger at her. “The problem is, you aren’t rich. Great-Uncle Thorne and Great-Aunt Maisie are. I mean, even my father wasn’t rich. Phinneas Pickworth made all the money and kept it in his own lineage. We grew up perfectly happy and perfectly middle class. And so will you two.”
    Maisie sighed dramatically. “Living inside Elm Medona makes me feel rich,” she said. “I feel special for a change,” she added.
    â€œSpecial and rich are two different things,” their mother reminded her. “I understand, though. I do. I always felt like you do when we’d visit Elm Medona, seeing the way my father’s aunt and uncle lived. Living that way for a week or so every summer. But then it was back to reality.”
    Maisie sighed. “I hate reality.”
    The waitress came over to the table with their bill, and their mother pulled out her wallet. She handed the waitress her credit card.
    As soon as the girl had walked away, their mother said, “There’s one other thing. I mean, it’s nothing really. Or, I mean, I’m sure it won’t be anything.”
    â€œHuh?” Maisie said.
    Their mother blushed. “It’s just that Bruce Fishbaum invited me to dinner tomorrow night. That’s all.”
    Bruce Fishbaum was one half of Fishbaum and Fishbaum, the law firm where their mother worked about ninety hours a week.
    Felix shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “Don’t you spend, like, practically every minute with him, anyway?”
    â€œWait a minute,” Maisie said, narrowing her eyes. “Are you saying he asked you out on a
date
?”
    â€œWell,” their mother said, her blush deepening. “No. I mean, yes.”
    â€œYou can’t go on a date!” Maisie said.
    â€œWhat about Dad?” Felix asked.
    â€œI know how