oil on her face, and her hair was tied in a knot on her head. She had a huge smudge of grease on the tip of her nose, and her hands were filthy. He couldn't help laughing as he looked at her. She was quite a picture.
“What's funny?” She looked tired, but happy, as she smiled up at him. He had always been like a brother to her. She was aware of how handsome he was, but it didn't mean anything. They were good friends, and she loved him.
“You're funny. Have you looked in the mirror today?
You're wearing more oil than my Bellanca. Your father is going to love that look.”
“My father wants me cleaning house in a housedress, and boiling potatoes for him.”
‘That's useful too.”
“Yeah?” She cocked her head to one side, and was an intriguing combination of absurdity and sheer beauty. “Can you cook potatoes, Stick?” She called him that sometimes and it always made him smile as he did now when he answered.
“If I have to. I can cook too, you know.”
“But you don't have to. And when was the last time you cleaned house?”
“I don't know …” He looked thoughtful, “Ten years ago maybe … about 1926?” He was grinning at her and they were both laughing.
“See what I mean?”
“Yeah. But I see what he means too. I'm not married and I don't have kids. And he doesn't want you to end up like me. Living in a shack off the runway and flying mail runs to Cleveland.” His “shack” was very comfortable by then if not luxurious.
“Sounds good to me.” She grinned. “The mail runs I mean.”
“That's the problem.”
“He's the problem,” she disagreed. “There are plenty of women flying and leading interesting lives. The Ninety-Nines arc full of them.” It was a professional organization founded by ninety-nine female pilots.
“Don't try and convince me. Tell him.”
“It's pointless.” She looked discouraged as she looked up at her old friend. “I just hope he lets me be out here all summer.” It was all she wanted to do now that she was out of school until the end of August. It would be a long summer, hiding from him, and trying to avoid confrontations.
“Couldn't you get yourself a job somewhere else, so he doesn't drive us both crazy?” But they both knew that she preferred to do without any extra money at all than miss a moment at the airport.
“There isn't anything else I want to do.”
“I know. You don't have to tell me.” He knew the extent of her passion better than anyone else. He had suffered from the same disease himself. But he'd been lucky. The war, his sex, and Pat O'Malley had made it possible for him to spend the rest of his life flying. Somehow, he didn't think that Cassie O'Malley was going to be as lucky. In a funny way, he would have loved to take her up in a plane one of these days, just to see how well she would fly, but that was one headache he didn't need, and he knew Pat would kill him for it. Without meddling in Pat's family life, Nick had his own work to do, and there was plenty of it at the airport.
As Nick went back to his desk to clear up the last of his paperwork, he saw Chris arrive. He was a good-looking boy, a handsome blond with fine features like his mother's, and his father's powerful build, and warm brown eyes. He was bright and nice and well liked. He had everything in the world going for him, except a love for airplanes. He was working at the newspaper that summer, doing layouts, and he was grateful he didn't have to work at the airport.
“Is my sister here?” he asked Nick hesitantly. He almost looked as though he wished Nick would say no. He looked as though he couldn't wait to leave the airport. As it was, Cassie had expected him an hour before and she'd asked Nick impatiently half a dozen times if he'd seen him.
“She is indeed.” Nick smiled at him. He kept his voice low so he wouldn't irritate Pat, in case he overheard him. “She's in the back hangar with some pilot who just flew in.”
“I'll find her.” Chris waved at
“What's funny?” She looked tired, but happy, as she smiled up at him. He had always been like a brother to her. She was aware of how handsome he was, but it didn't mean anything. They were good friends, and she loved him.
“You're funny. Have you looked in the mirror today?
You're wearing more oil than my Bellanca. Your father is going to love that look.”
“My father wants me cleaning house in a housedress, and boiling potatoes for him.”
‘That's useful too.”
“Yeah?” She cocked her head to one side, and was an intriguing combination of absurdity and sheer beauty. “Can you cook potatoes, Stick?” She called him that sometimes and it always made him smile as he did now when he answered.
“If I have to. I can cook too, you know.”
“But you don't have to. And when was the last time you cleaned house?”
“I don't know …” He looked thoughtful, “Ten years ago maybe … about 1926?” He was grinning at her and they were both laughing.
“See what I mean?”
“Yeah. But I see what he means too. I'm not married and I don't have kids. And he doesn't want you to end up like me. Living in a shack off the runway and flying mail runs to Cleveland.” His “shack” was very comfortable by then if not luxurious.
“Sounds good to me.” She grinned. “The mail runs I mean.”
“That's the problem.”
“He's the problem,” she disagreed. “There are plenty of women flying and leading interesting lives. The Ninety-Nines arc full of them.” It was a professional organization founded by ninety-nine female pilots.
“Don't try and convince me. Tell him.”
“It's pointless.” She looked discouraged as she looked up at her old friend. “I just hope he lets me be out here all summer.” It was all she wanted to do now that she was out of school until the end of August. It would be a long summer, hiding from him, and trying to avoid confrontations.
“Couldn't you get yourself a job somewhere else, so he doesn't drive us both crazy?” But they both knew that she preferred to do without any extra money at all than miss a moment at the airport.
“There isn't anything else I want to do.”
“I know. You don't have to tell me.” He knew the extent of her passion better than anyone else. He had suffered from the same disease himself. But he'd been lucky. The war, his sex, and Pat O'Malley had made it possible for him to spend the rest of his life flying. Somehow, he didn't think that Cassie O'Malley was going to be as lucky. In a funny way, he would have loved to take her up in a plane one of these days, just to see how well she would fly, but that was one headache he didn't need, and he knew Pat would kill him for it. Without meddling in Pat's family life, Nick had his own work to do, and there was plenty of it at the airport.
As Nick went back to his desk to clear up the last of his paperwork, he saw Chris arrive. He was a good-looking boy, a handsome blond with fine features like his mother's, and his father's powerful build, and warm brown eyes. He was bright and nice and well liked. He had everything in the world going for him, except a love for airplanes. He was working at the newspaper that summer, doing layouts, and he was grateful he didn't have to work at the airport.
“Is my sister here?” he asked Nick hesitantly. He almost looked as though he wished Nick would say no. He looked as though he couldn't wait to leave the airport. As it was, Cassie had expected him an hour before and she'd asked Nick impatiently half a dozen times if he'd seen him.
“She is indeed.” Nick smiled at him. He kept his voice low so he wouldn't irritate Pat, in case he overheard him. “She's in the back hangar with some pilot who just flew in.”
“I'll find her.” Chris waved at
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