Wings

11

When the flight from Chicago landed in Los Angeles, there were three people waiting to meet her, a driver, a representative from the company, and Mr. Williams's secretary. Cassie was a little surprised to see them. He had told her she would be met at the plane, but she hadn't expected to be met so officially, or by so many people.

On the drive to Newport Beach, the company representative gave her a list of appointments for the week, a review of their latest planes, a test flight in each of them, a press conference with all the most important members of the local press, and a newsreel. The secretary then gave her a list of social events she was expected to attend with and without any of several escorts, and a few with Mr. Williams. It was more than a little overwhelming. But she was even more overcome when she saw the apartment they had rented for her. It was in Newport Beach, and it had a bedroom, a living room, and a dining room, all overlooking the ocean. It had spectacular views, and a terrace which surrounded it. The refrigerator was stocked, the furniture was beautiful, there were Italian linens in the drawers. And she was told that a maid would attend to her needs if she wished to entertain, and she would clean the apartment daily.

“I… oh, my Lord!” Cassie exclaimed as she opened a drawer full of lace tablecloths. Her mother would have given her left arm to have any one of them, and Cassie couldn't begin to imagine why she had them. “What are these for?”

“Mr. Williams thought you'd like to entertain,” his personal secretary, Miss Fitzpatrick, said primly. She was twice Cassie's age, and she had gone to school at Miss Porter's in the East. She knew very little about planes, but she knew everything there was to know about all things social, and the proper decorum.

“But I don't know anyone here,” Cassie laughed as she spun around, looking at the apartment. She had never dreamed of anything even remotely like it. She was dying to tell someone, or show them. Billy, Nick… her sisters… her mom… but there was no one here. Just Cassie, and her entourage. And when she looked in the bedroom, she found all her new clothes neatly arranged for her. There were four or five well-cut suits in an array of somber colors, several hats to match, a long black evening dress and two short ones. There were even shoes and some handbags. Everything was in the sizes she had given them. And in a smaller closet in the room, she found all her uniforms. They were navy blue, and looked extremely official. There was even a small hat that had been designed for it, and regulation shoes. And for a moment, she almost felt her heart sink. Maybe Nick was right. Maybe she was going to be a Skygirl.

Everything was so regimented and prearranged, it was all like a very strange dream. It was like being dropped into someone else's life, with their clothes, and their apartment. It was hard to believe this was all hers now.

There was a young woman waiting for Cassie too. She was neatly dressed in a gray suit, with a matching hat. She had a warm smile, lively blue eyes, and well-cut dark blond hair that hung to her shoulders in a smooth page boy. And she appeared to be in her early thirties.

‘This is Nancy Firestone,” Miss Fitzpatrick explained. “She will be your chaperone, whenever Mr. Williams feels that one is needed. She can help you with whatever needs you have, handle the press, escort you to meetings and luncheons.” The young woman introduced herself to Cass, and gave her a warm smile as she showed her around the apartment. A chaperone? What would she do with her? Leave her on the runway when she tested planes? After seeing all of it, Cassie was beginning to wonder if she'd even have time to fly one.

‘It's all a little overwhelming at first,” Nancy Firestone said sympathetically. “Why don't you let me unpack for you, and then we can talk about your schedule over lunch?” Nancy said, as Cassie glanced around, feeling lost. She had noticed a maid in the kitchen making sandwiches and a salad. She was an older woman in a black uniform, and she seemed perfectly at home there. Far more than Cassie felt at the moment. She couldn't help wondering what she was going to do with all these people. It was obvious that they were there to help, and Desmond Williams had certainly provided every possible creature comfort. He had done more than that. He had provided a dream for her. But suddenly all she felt was desperately lonely among all these strangers. And Nancy Firestone seemed to sense that. That was why Williams had hired her. He knew her well, and had assessed instantly that she was just what Cassie needed.

“Are we going out to look at the planes today?” Cassie asked mournfully. At least that was something she understood, and she was a lot more interested in planes than in what she'd seen in her closet. At least the Planes were familiar to her, and this glamorous lifestyle wasn't. She hadn't come to California to play dress-up. She had come to fly airplanes. And amid all the hats and shoes and gloves, and people who were there to take care of her, she wondered if she'd ever get a chance to fly one. Suddenly, all Cassie wanted was her simple life in Illinois, and a hangar full of her father's airplanes.

“We'll go out to the airfield tomorrow,” Nancy said kindly. She knew instinctively, and from everything Desmond had said, that she had to treat Cassie gently. This was a whole new world for her, and he had warned Nancy that she would be new to all this and probably a little startled at first, but she was also headstrong and independent. He didn't want her suddenly deciding that this wasn't for her. He wanted her to like it. “Mr. Williams didn't want to wear you out on the first day,” she smiled warmly, as they sat down and helped themselves to sandwiches. But Cassie wasn't hungry.

“You have a press conference at five o'clock. The hairdresser is coming here at three. And we have a lot to talk about before that.” She made it sound as though they were just two girls getting ready for a party, and Cassie's head was spinning as she listened. Williams's secretary, Miss Fitzpatrick, left the apartment then, after pointing to a stack of briefing papers Mr. Williams wanted her to have about his planes. And she said tersely that Mr. Williams would come by to pick her up between four and four-thirty.

“He's taking you to the press conference,” Nancy explained as the door closed behind Miss Fitzpatrick. She made it sound like a great honor, and Cassie knew it was. But it terrified her anyway. They all did. All Cassie could do by then was stare at Nancy Firestone in dismay and amazement. What was all this? What did it mean? What was she doing here? And what did any of it have to do with airplanes? Nancy read her face easily and tried to reassure her.

“I know it's a little startling at first,” Nancy smiled calmly. She was a pretty woman, but there was something sad in her eyes that Cassie had noticed the moment she saw her. But she seemed determined to make Cassie feel at ease in these unfamiliar surroundings.

“I don't even know where to start,” Cassie admitted to her, suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to cry, but she knew that she couldn't. They were all being so good to her, but there was so much to absorb and understand, the clothes, the appointments, what they expected of her, what she had to say to the press. All she really wanted to do was learn about the planes, and instead she had to worry about how she looked and dressed, and if she sounded intelligent or grown-up enough. It was terrifying, and even Nancy Firestone's warmth was of very little comfort.

At first glance, it almost seemed as though they had brought her out for show and not for flying. “What do they want with me?” Cassie asked her honestly as they sat looking out at the Pacific. “Why did he bring me out here?” She was almost sorry she'd come now. It was just too scary.

“He brought you here,” Nancy answered her, “because I hear you're one of the best pilots he's ever seen. You must be terrific, Cassie. Desmond doesn't impress easily. And he hasn't stopped talking about you since he saw you at the air show. But he brought you here because you're a woman too, and not just an amazing pilot. And to Desmond, that's very important.” In some ways, women were important to him. In others, they mattered not at all. But Nancy didn't explain that to Cassie. Desmond Williams liked to have women around when they served his purposes, but he attached himself to no one. “He thinks that women sell planes better than men because they're more exciting. He thinks that women-women like you, that is-are the future of aviation. You're a terrific press bonus for him, and a great boost for public relations.” She didn't tell Cassie it was also because of her looks, but that was part of it. She was a real beauty, and if she hadn't been, she wouldn't have been there. Nancy knew he had been looking for someone like her for a long time, and he had talked to a lot of female pilots, and gone to a lot of air shows before he found her. This was an idea he had had for years, even before George Putnam discovered Amelia Earhart.

“But why me? Who cares about me?” Cassie asked innocently, still looking overwhelmed in spite of Nancy's encouragement and explanations. She still didn't understand it. She wasn't stupid, she was naive, and it was difficult for most people to conceive of a mind like Desmond Williams's. Nancy knew a lot about him, from her husband, before he died, testing one of Williams's planes, from the other pilots he knew, and from her own experiences since Skip had died. Desmond Williams had done a lot to help her. In many ways, he'd been a godsend. Yet there were things about him that were unnerving. There was a single-mindedness about him that was frightening at times. When he wanted something, or when he thought something would be good for the company, he would stop at nothing to get it.

He had been very good to her when Skip died, and he had done everything possible for her and her daughter. He had told her that she and Jane were part of the “family,” that Williams Aircraft would take care of them forever. He had opened a bank account for them, and all of their needs would be provided for. Jane's education was assured, and Nancy's pension. Skip had died for Desmond Williams, and he would never forget it. He had even bought a small house for them. And drawn up a contract. She was to remain an employee of Williams Aircraft for the next twenty years, doing projects such as these, nothing too unreasonable, or terribly wearing. But projects that required intelligence and loyalty. He reminded her subtly of how much he'd done for them, and suddenly she knew she had no choice but to do what he wanted. Skip had left them nothing but debts and sweet memories. And now, after all he'd done for her and Jane, Desmond Williams owned her. He kept her in a pretty little gilded cage, he made good use of her, he was fair, or at least he seemed to be, but he never let her forget that he owned her. She couldn't go anywhere, she couldn't leave; if she did, they'd have nothing again. She had no real training for anything, she'd be lucky to get a job, and Janie would never go to college. But if she stayed, she could keep what he'd given her. And Williams saw something useful in her, just as he did in Cassie. And what he wanted he got. He bought it, fair and square, and he paid a high price for it. But there was no mistaking his ownership once the contract was signed, and the purchase complete. He was a smart man, and he always knew what he wanted.

“Everyone will care about you eventually,” Nancy said quietly. She knew more about his plans than she intended to share with Cassie. He was a genius at dealing with the press, and creating a huge concept from a very small one. “The American public will come to love you. Women and planes are what's ahead of us now. Williams Aircraft makes the finest planes that fly, but to have that brought home to the public through your eyes, through you, is a very powerful thing. To have you identified with his planes will give them a special appeal, a special magic.” And Desmond Williams knew that. It was that that he wanted from Cassie. He'd been looking for years for a woman who embodied the American dream, young, beautiful, a simple girl with great looks, a good mind, and a brilliant flier. And much to everyone's amazement, he had finally found her in Cassie O'Malley. And what better fate for her? What more could she possibly have wanted? Nancy knew Cassie was a lucky girl, and even if there were strings attached eventually, even if he wanted lifetime fealty, he would make it up to her. She'd be famous and rich, and a legend, if she played her cards right. Even in Nancy's eyes, knowing just how tightly those strings could be tied, she thought that Cassie O'Malley was to be envied. Desmond was going to make her a star like no other.

“It's so strange though, when you think of it,” Cassie said, looking thoughtfully at Nancy. “I'm no one. I'm not jean Batten, or Amy Johnson, or anyone important. I'm a kid from Illinois who won four prizes at the local air show. So what?” she asked modestly, finally taking a bite of a perfectly made chicken sandwich.

“You're not ‘just a kid’ anymore,” Nancy said wisely, “or you won't be after five o'clock today.” She knew just how carefully Desmond had begun laying the groundwork from the moment she'd signed the contract. “And just how do you think those other women got started? Without someone like Desmond to publicize them, they'd never have happened.” Cassie listened, but she didn't agree with her. Their reputations were built on skill, not just on publicity, but Nancy clearly believed in what Williams was doing. “Earhart was what George Putnam made of her. Desmond has always been fascinated by that. He always felt that she was a lot less of a pilot than Putnam made her out to be, and maybe he was right.” Skip had thought so too, and as Nancy thought of it, she looked at Cassie sadly. Cassie was intrigued by Nancy, though there was a lot she liked about her, and yet there was a part of her that seemed very removed. She seemed both enthusiastic about what lay ahead for Cassie, and maybe even a little bit jealous. She made it all sound like such a great deal, and she spoke of “Desmond” as though she knew him better than she would ever have admitted. Watching her, Cassie couldn't help wondering if there was anything between them, or maybe she just admired him a great deal, and wanted to be sure that Cassie appreciated everything he had done for her. It was all a lot to absorb and analyze in one afternoon, as they sorted through Cassie's things, and Nancy tried to explain the importance of “marketing” to her. Like Desmond, Nancy thought it was everything. It was what made people buy the products other people made. In this case, planes. Cassie was part of a larger plan. What she was, what she would be, was a tool to sell airplanes. It was an odd concept to her, and when the hairdresser arrived, she was still trying to understand it.

Nancy had told her about her husband by then, and Jane. She had explained, simply, that Skip had died in an accident the year before during a test flight over Las Vegas. She spoke about it very calmly, but there was something ravaged in her eyes when she spoke of him. In a way, her life had ended when he died, or she felt that way. But in a number of ways, Desmond Williams had changed that.

“He's been very good to me,” she said quietly, “and to my daughter,” Cassie nodded, watching her, and then the hairdresser distracted both of them with her plans for Cassie's bright red mane. She wanted to give it a good trim, and have her wear it long, like Lauren Bacall. She even said she saw a similarity, which made Cassie guffaw. She knew Nick would have really laughed if he'd heard that, or at least she thought so. But Nancy took the hairdresser very seriously, and approved of everything she wanted.

“What exactly is it they want from me?” Cassie asked with a nervous sigh, as the hairdresser clipped and snipped with determination, and Nancy watched her.

She managed to glance at her new charge with a smile, and answered her as best she could.

“They want you to look pretty, sound smart, behave yourself, and fly like an angel. That about sums it up,” She smiled again and Cassie grinned at the description. Nancy made it sound surprisingly simple.

“That shouldn't be too hard. The flying part anyway; the behaving ought to be okay if it means don't fall down drunk or run around with guys. I'm not sure what ‘sound smart’ is going to mean, that could be rough, and ‘pretty’ could be hopeless,” Cassie grinned at her new friend. When she stopped feeling terrified over it, it was all very exciting. How did things like this happen? It was almost like being in a movie. There was a feeling of unreality to it that she just couldn't escape now.

“I get the feeling you haven't looked in the mirror in a while,” Nancy said honestly, and Cassie nodded.

“No time. I've been too busy flying and repairing planes at my father's airport.”

“You'll have to learn to look in the mirror now.” This was why Williams had so much faith in Nancy. She was tactful, ladylike, intelligent, she did what she was told, and she knew what was expected. Desmond Williams knew his people well and he always knew exactly what he was buying. He had never doubted for a moment that Nancy would be useful to him when they had signed their contract. “Just smile and think that a few photographs won't hurt you. And the rest of the time you can fly anything you want. It's an opportunity almost no one gets, Cassie. You're very lucky,” Nancy encouraged her. She knew just what flying fanatics liked, and how to cajole Cassie into doing the things she didn't. Like the press conferences she was scheduled for, the interviews, the newsreels, and the parties Desmond wanted her to be seen at. Miss Fitzpatrick had even provided a list of escorts.

“Why do I have to go to those?” Cassie asked suspiciously about the parties.

“Because people have to get to know your name. Mr. Williams went to a lot of trouble to have you included, and you really can't disappoint him.” She said it surprisingly firmly.

“Oh,” Cassie said, looking more than a little daunted. She didn't want to seem ungrateful, and she was already beginning to trust Nancy's opinions. It was all happening so quickly, and Nancy was her only friend here. And what Nancy said was true, Williams was doing a lot for her, and maybe she owed it to him to accept his invitations. Nonetheless, to Cassie, looking at the list, the social obligations seemed endless. But Desmond Williams knew exactly what he was doing. And so did Nancy.

When the hairdresser was finished, they all liked Cassie's hair. She suddenly looked more sophisticated, but it was both elegant and simple. And then the hairdresser helped Cassie to do her makeup. At three-fifteen she took a bath and at three forty-five, she put on her own underwear, and the silk stockings that had been left (or her. And when she put on a dark green suit at four o'clock,. she looked like a million dollars.

“Wow!” Nancy said, adjusting Cassie's blouse carefully and checking that the shoes matched her suit and handbag.

“Silk stockings!” Cassie beamed. “Wait till I tell Mom!” She was grinning like a kid and Nancy laughed and asked if she had any earrings. Cassie looked blank and then shook her head. Her mom had a pair that had been her mother's, but Cassie had never owned any. Nor had her sisters.

“I'll have to tell Mr. Williams.” Nancy made a note to herself. She needed a string of pearls too. He had told Nancy exactly the look he wanted. No greasy overalls or work clothes. They could save that for one rare shot, maybe for Life, as part of a bigger shoot. But the look he wanted for her on the ground was pure Lady. Although all Nancy could think of as she looked at her was Rita Hayworth.

Desmond Williams arrived promptly at four o'clock, and he was very pleased with what he saw. He handed Cassie some photographs and details of the Phaeton and Starlifter she was going to fly that week, just so she could familiarize herself with them. And the following week she had some important tests to do on a high-altitude plane he was trying to convert for the Army Air Corps. But as she looked at the photographs, she couldn't help thinking of Nancy's husband. What if Desmond's planes were too dangerous, or the risks he wanted her to take were too great? Like all good test pilots, she tempered blind courage with caution. She wasn't afraid to fly anything, she decided, as she looked longingly at a photograph of the experimental Phaeton.

“You're going to let me fly that?” She beamed at him, and he nodded. “Wow! How about right now? Forget the press, let's go fly.” She beamed at him happily, and suddenly all her earlier concerns and hesitations were forgotten.

He laughed. He loved the way she looked, and Nancy had let him know as he came in that Cassie had been completely cooperative with her. He was very pleased with both of them. This was the best publicity plan he had ever had, and he knew it. “Never forget the press, Cassie. They can make or break your business. Or mine at any rate. We want to be very nice to them. Always.” He looked at her pointedly, and she nodded, still feeling completely in awe of him. He was wearing an impeccably cut dark blue double-breasted suit, and brilliantly shined handmade black shoes. His blond hair was perfectly combed and everything about him was starched, ironed to perfection, and spotless. He was the most beautifully groomed man she had ever seen. And she watched him with utter fascination. Everything about him was calculated and preconceived, thought out to the nth degree. But she was too young to understand that. What she saw was the finished product, what he wanted her to see. And that was what he wanted to teach her, to show the world just exactly the face he wanted. The smiling, sunny, small-town girl, who flew better than any man, and dared everything, and then came tumbling out of the cockpit with a big grin, and a shock of perfectly combed red hair. She was going to have every man in the country in love with her in six months, if it even took that long, and she was going to be every woman's idol. In order to do that, she had to behave perfectly, look spectacular, and fly planes that made the toughest pilots tremble. He had studied everyone else's mistakes, and he didn't intend to make any of the same ones. Desmond Williams was not going to fail, nor was Cassie, if he had any control over her at all. She was going to become the biggest name the country had ever seen. He was going to completely create her. And in her own small way, just by making her comfortable and keeping an eye on her, Nancy Firestone was going to help him. He wasn't going to have all his dreams shot down, by having Cassie get drunk, or swear at someone, or look like hell after a long flight or get involved with some bum. She was going to have to be perfect.

“Ready for the big time?” he smiled at her. She looked fine, better than that actually, but he could still see room for improvement. She had her own remarkable looks, but the suit was a little too big for her, and later Nancy would have to arrange for alterations. She was just a fraction thinner than he'd remembered, and her looks were stronger. She needed something just a little more glamorous, a little bit younger. And he hadn't realized when he'd met her in Good Hope that she had such a spectacular figure. He wanted to play to that without cheapening her, or even approaching the vulgar. But there was a look he wanted to achieve, and they were not quite there yet. But for a first run… she was doing fine.

And she did far better than he had expected at the press conference, in the large conference room next to his office.

Twenty members of the press had been handpicked by him, the impressionable ones. The men who liked girls a little too much, the women. None of the great cynics. And then he introduced her. She came in looking frightened and a little pale, and feeling a little strange in her new clothes and bright red lipstick. But she looked terrific in her new haircut and the green suit. And her natural good looks and warm nature sparkled.

She enchanted them. He had given them the information about the air show, and she was very humble about it. She explained that she had hung around her father's airport all her life, working on engines and fueling planes.

“I spent most of my childhood covered with grease. I only found out I had red hair when I got here,” she quipped, and they loved her. She had an easy style, and once she got used to them, she treated them like old friends, and they loved it. Desmond Williams was so ecstatic he couldn't stop grinning.

In the end, he had to tear her away. They'd have sat with her all night, listening to her stories. She had even told them about her father not wanting her to fly, and only convincing him after the night she flew in the snowstorm with Nick, to rescue the wounded at the train wreck.

“What did you fly, Miss O'Malley?”

“An old Handley of my father's.” There was an appreciative look from the knowledgeable members of the crowd. It was a hard plane to fly. But they knew she had to be good, or Williams wouldn't have brought her out here.

By the time she left them, they were calling her Cassie. She was totally unpretentious and completely ingenuous. And when she made the front page of the LA Times the next day, the picture of her was sensational, and the story told of a redheaded bombshell that was about to hit LA and take the world by storm. They might as well have written a banner headline that said, WE LOVE YOU, CASSIE! because it was obvious that they did. The campaign had begun. And from then on, Desmond Williams kept her very busy.

Her second day in LA, Cassie “visited” all his planes, and of course the press was there, and so were the Movietone people for a newsreel.

When the newsreel was released, her mother took all her sisters and their children to see it. Cassie wanted Nick and her father to see it too, but all she got was a postcard from Nick that said, “We miss you, Skygirl!” which annoyed her. She knew what she looked like in the newsreel, in the uniform she had to wear, but she knew he had to be impressed by their planes too. They were nothing short of fantastic.

Her first flights were in the Phaeton they were working on, and then the Statlifter he had shown her. After that, he let her fly a high-altitude plane he was working on, to take extensive notes for their designers. She had gone to forty-six thousand feet, and it was the first time she'd ever had to use an oxygen mask, or an electrically heated flight suit. But she had been able to gather some very important information. Their goal was to convert the plane into a high-level bomber for the Army. It was hard work. And she scared herself once or twice, but she impressed the hell out of Desmond Williams. His engineers and one of his pilots had gone up with her, and they had described her flying as better than Lindbergh's. She was prettier too, one of them had pointed out. But that much Williams knew. What he was pleased to hear was that her flying skill was beyond expectation.

She set an altitude record her second week there and a speed record in the Phaeton three days later. Both were verified by the FAI and they were official. These were the planes she had always dreamed of.

The only thing that slowed her down was the constant press conferences and the photographs and the news-reels. They were incredibly tedious, and sometimes the press really got in her way. She'd been in Los Angeles for three weeks by then, and the press were already starting to follow her everywhere she went. She was becoming news. And although she tried to be pleasant to them, sometimes it really annoyed her. She had almost run over one of them the day before on takeoff.

“Can't you keep them off the runway for chrissake?” she shouted from the cockpit before takeoff. She didn't want to hurt anyone and they'd frightened her by getting so close to the plane. But the men on the ground only shrugged. They were getting used to it. There was a frenzy about her like none they had ever seen. Items were printed about her constantly, and photographs. The public ate her up, and Desmond Williams kept feeding them exactly what they wanted. Just enough of her to excite them and keep the love affair alive, but never so much that they tired of her. It was a fine art, and he was brilliant at it. And Nancy Firestone was feeding him all the little personal details they needed. And she continued to be a huge help to Cassie.

She was scheduled to do a commercial for a breakfast cereal for kids, and an ad for her favorite magazine, and when Nick saw it at the airport one day, he tossed it in the garbage. He was furious and railed at her father.

“How can you let her do that? What is she doing, selling breakfast cereal, or flying?”

“Looks like both to me.” He didn't really mind. He didn't think women belonged in serious aviation anyway. “Her mother loves it.”

“When does she find time to fly?” Nick groused at him, and Pat grinned.

“I wouldn't know, Stick. Why don't you fly out and ask her?” Fat was surprisingly calm about all of it, now that she was out in California. The only thing he was sorry about was that she didn't have time to go to school, but she was flying some damn gorgeous airplanes. And he couldn't help being proud of her, though he never actually said it.

Nick had thought of flying out to see her several times, but he hadn't had time to get away. With Cassie gone, he seemed to be doing more flying than ever, in spite of the useful presence of Billy Nolan. But business was booming at O'Malley's. And Fat recognized more than anyone that his daughter's sudden stardom probably hadn't hurt them. The reporters had turned up there a few times too, but there wasn't much fodder for them, and after a few photographs, and a shot of the house where she'd grown up, the wire-service guys had gone back to Chicago.

Cassie's life on the West Coast seemed to move even faster than her planes. She could hardly keep up with herself, between test flights, and short runs to check out new instruments on planes, and meetings with engineers to explain their aerodynamics to her. She had gone to a few development meetings too, to better understand what direction Williams Aircraft was striving for, and Desmond himself couldn't believe the extent of her involvement. She wanted to know everything there was to know about his planes. He was flattered and impressed, and he was enormously proud of his good judgment. He had inherited an empire, which he had doubled in size in an incredibly short timespan. At thirty-four, he was one of the richest men in the country, if not the world, and he could have had or done almost anything he wanted. He had been married twice, and divorced both times, had no children, and the only thing he cared about, or loved with any passion at all, was his business. People came and went in his life, and there was always plenty of talk about his women, but the only thing that mattered to him were his planes, and being at the very top of the aviation business. And for the moment, Cassie O'Malley was helping him get what he wanted.

He loved Cassie's remarkable understanding about planes, and her naive but clear perceptions about his business. She wasn't afraid to express herself, or even, when necessary, to confront him. He liked seeing her at meetings, liked the fact that she cared enough to be there. He was thrilled with the flying records she'd set too. She dared almost anything, within reason. The only thing she seemed hesitant about, and often balked at going to, were the social events, which he insisted were critical, and Cassie thought were nonsense.

“But why?” She argued constantly with Nancy Firestone. “I can't stay out all night, and fly intelligently at four o'clock in the morning.”

“Then start later. Mr. Williams will understand. He wants you to go out in the evening.”

“But I don't want to.” Cassie's natural stubbornness hadn't been left in Illinois, and she had every intention of winning. “I'd rather stay home and read about his airplanes.”

“That's not what Mr. Williams wants,” Nancy said firmly, and so far she had usually won the argument, but there were a few times when Cassie escaped her. She preferred walking on the beach, or being alone at night, writing letters to Nick, or her sisters, or her mother. She missed her family terribly, and the familiar people she had grown up with. And even writing to Nick made her heart ache. Sometimes she felt as though the air was being pressed out of her as she wrote to him and told him what she was doing. She missed flying with him, and arguing with him and telling him how wrong he was, or what a fool. She wanted to tell him how much she missed him, but it always sounded strange to her in a letter. And more often than not, she tore it up, and just told him about the planes she was flying.

She never mentioned her social life to him, or to anyone, it didn't mean anything to her, no matter how much they wrote about it in the papers. Nancy had found a lot of young men to escort her, most of whom knew nothing about planes, and some of them were actors who needed to be seen too. It was all about being “seen,” and where she went, and who you were “seen” with. She didn't want to be seen with any of them, and most of the time, they just posed for photographs and then took her home, and she would collapse into bed, relieved to be rid of them. The only thing she really loved about her new movie-star life was the flying.

And the flying was incredible. Sailing into the dawn in the Phaeton, breaking all records for speed, was the sweetest thing she had ever done, and probably the most dangerous. But much to her own surprise, with the incredible machines, she was honing her skills here. She was learning how to handle very heavy planes, learning how to compensate for any problems they had, signaling them to the engineers, and correcting them right along with them. Her input was valued here, her views, they admired the way she flew, and they understood everything she wanted. It was every pilot's dream to be in the seat she was in, and as long as she was in the air, there was no question about it. She loved it.

She was stepping out of an Army pursuit plane with a Merlin engine on it for more speed, one afternoon, after a short flight over Las Vegas to make some notes for the design team, when a hand reached up to her and helped her down, and she was surprised to see it was Desmond Williams. He was as impeccable as ever, and his hair blew a little off his face in the soft breeze and he looked suddenly less rigid, and much younger than the other times she'd seen him.

“Did you have a good flight?”

“I did. But the Merlin engine was disappointing here. It still didn't give us what we wanted out of this plane. We have to try something else. But I've got some ideas I want to kick around with the design team tomorrow. The plane was pulling to port on takeoff too, which is a real problem.” She always thought of his planes, and the problems they needed to conquer. At night she dreamed of them, and by day she pressed them to their limits. And as he glanced at her, he was more impressed than ever with what he was hearing. She was a gold mine.

“Sounds like you need a break.” He smiled at her, as she pushed her hair out of her eyes and smoothed her uniform. She still longed for her overalls sometimes, and the old days of never caring how she looked when she flew. To Cassie, it didn't matter. “How about dinner tonight?”

She was surprised at the invitation, and wondered if he had something on his mind. Maybe he was unhappy with her. He had never invited her out before, and their dealings with each other had been strictly business.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Williams?” She looked worried and he laughed at the question. She wondered if maybe he was firing her, and he shook his head and looked at her in amusement.

“The only thing wrong is that you work too hard, and have absolutely no idea what a miracle you are. Of course nothing's wrong. I just thought it might be nice to have dinner.”

“Sure,” she said shyly, wondering what it would be like to have dinner with him. He was so handsome and so perfect and so smart, and so rich, that he scared her. Nancy always said what good company he was, and how pleasant, and she seemed to know him well. But he still frightened Cassie more than a little.

“What do you like? French? Italian? There are some wonderful restaurants in Los Angeles. I imagine you've been to them all by now.”

“Yes, I have.” She looked him right in the eye, overcoming her shyness for a moment. “And I wish I hadn't.”

“So I hear.” He smiled at her. “I understand you've been chafing at your social schedule.” He looked almost fatherly for an instant, despite his age, and Cassie could see why Nancy liked him.

“That's putting it mildly. I just don't see why I have to go out every night if I'm going to fly for you at four o'clock the next morning.”

“Maybe you should get a later start.” He said practically, but she groaned in answer.

“That's what Nancy said. But flying is the important part. Going out doesn't matter.”

He stopped walking with her then, and looked down at her, and she was totally surprised to realize how much taller he was. In more ways than one, he was a man of great stature. “It's all important, Cassie. All of it. Not just the flying. But the going out too. Look what the papers say about you… what the public thinks now… how much they love you… Look how much that means, how much access that gives you to them, how much weight you carry with the public after only a month here. They want to know what you eat, what you read, what you think. Don't ever underestimate that. It's the power of the American public.”

“I don't get it,” she said, looking like a kid, and he smiled at her. He already knew her better than that. He had an uncanny sense about people.

“Yes, you do,” be said quietly. “You just don't want to. You want to play the game on your terms. But you'll get a lot more out of it in the end, if you play my way. Trust me.”

“Having dinner at the Cocoanut Grove, or Mocambo, isn't going to make me a better flier.”

“No, but it will make you exciting… glamorous… someone people want to know more about. It will make them listen to you, and once they're listening, you can tell them anything you want to.”

“And if I'm asleep at home in bed, they won't listen?” She grinned, but she had gotten his point, and she was intrigued by it, and he knew it.

“All they'll hear then, Miss O'Malley, is you snoring.”

She laughed at him, and he left her at the hangar a few minutes later. He had promised to pick her up at seven o'clock, and said he would tell her later where they were going.

She told Nancy who she was having dinner with when she got home, but she had already heard from Miss Fitzpatrick what her dinner plans were. There were no secrets at Williams Aircraft. And she suspected where he would take her, probably Perino's. Nancy helped her pick out a particularly sophisticated dress, and assured Cassie that it was just the sort of thing he really liked.

“Why do you think he wants to have dinner with me?” Cassie asked worriedly. She was still wondering if he was secretly displeased with her about something. Maybe he really was annoyed that she complained about going out at night, and wanted to scold her.

“I think he wants to take you out because you're so ugly,” Nancy teased. She had begun treating Cassie like her daughter. In some ways, Cassie was still a child, not unlike Janie. In fact, Jane and Cassie had hit it off splendidly on the two occasions Nancy had invited her to dinner. She would have invited her more frequently, but Cassie never had time for a private evening. “Now go wash your face and stop worrying. He's a perfect gentleman,” He always was, no matter what he wanted, business or pleasure. Desmond Williams had a brilliant mind and impeccable manners. What he did not have was a heart, or at least, that was what women said. If he did, no one had found it yet. But Nancy knew it was not Cassie's heart Desmond wanted. He wanted her loyalty, and her life, her mind, her judgment about planes, and her courage. It was what he wanted from everyone. He wanted everything, except what was really important. And in return, he would take care of her, in the ways he understood, with contracts and money.

Cassie was ready right on time, and he appeared downstairs in a brand-new Packard. He was a man who liked machines, and he had bought every exciting car there was to own, at one time or another. The Zephyr she'd seen him in back home had already been shipped to California.

She was wearing a slinky black dress Nancy had picked out for her, and black silk stockings and black satin platform shoes that made her look even taller. But he was still taller than she was, and her figure looked fabulous in the black dress. Her hair was piled high on her head in loose curls, and in the month since she'd been in LA she had learned to do her makeup to perfection.

“Wow! If I do say so myself,” Desmond beamed at her, as they headed toward the city, “that's quite an outfit.”

“I was going to wear my overalls,” she grinned mischievously, “but Nancy sent them to the cleaners.”

“I can't say I'm disappointed,” he teased back. They chatted easily all the way into town, about a new plane she knew he was designing. There were questions she had about the fuselage, and her queries about the design, as usual, impressed him deeply.

“How did you ever get to know so much about planes, Cass?”

“I just love them a lot. You know, like dolls, for some kids. I've just played with planes all my life. I put my first engine back together when I was nine. I've been doing it since I was a little kid. My father put me to work when I was five, but then he had a fit when I learned to fly. Engines were okay, but flying was for guys, not for women.”

“It's hard to believe.” He looked amused. To him, it sounded like the dark ages.

“I know.” She grinned, thinking fondly of her father. “He's an adorable old dinosaur and I love him. He threw your card away that day, you know. The first time you came to the airport.”

“I thought he'd do something like that, he and his partner. That's why I came back.” He glanced over at her as they reached LA “I'm glad I did. When I think what I would have missed. What this country would have lost. It would have been a tragedy.” He made it sound very dramatic, and she laughed. What he said was very frightening, but it always sounded like nonsense to Cassie. She knew her own worth, or she thought she did. She was a pretty good pilot, but she wasn't the oracle he pretended she was, or the genius… or the beauty… but Americans were already beginning to know different. They agreed with Desmond Williams.

“Where are we going tonight?” she asked with mild curiosity. She recognized the neighborhood, but hadn't guessed what restaurant. He told her they were going to the Trocadero.

And when they stepped inside, she saw instantly how glamorous it was, and how luxurious. The lights were dim, and the band was playing a rumba.

“You haven't been here yet, Cassie, have you?”

She shook her head, visibly impressed by her surroundings, and by being there with him. She was twenty years old, and she had never seen anything like that. “No, sir,” she said, and he leaned closer to her and touched her arm.

“You could call me Desmond.” He smiled at her, and she blushed. It was odd being so friendly with him. He was so important, he was her boss, and he was so much older.

“Yes, sir… I mean, Desmond…” She was still blushing in the darkness as they were led to an important table.

“Of course Sir Desmond has a certain ring to it. I hadn't thought of that before.” He made her laugh easily, and he helped her order. He made her feel surprisingly comfortable, even though everything she was experiencing was new. But he never made her feel ignorant or foolish. He treated it all as a great opportunity for her, and for him. He always let her know how lucky he felt to be there with her. He was a master at the fine art of putting her at ease, and before their dinner came, he had her laughing and dancing, and completely comfortable with him. So much so that she danced in his arms as though she had been doing it for a dozen years, and when the photographers appeared after dinner, they got a wonderful photograph of her smiling up at him, as though she adored him.

She was uncomfortable about it the next day, when she saw the newspaper on her way to work. The photograph somehow managed to convey the impression that she was involved with him, which she certainly wasn't. But there was something very intimate about the way he looked at her, as she stood next to him, and yet nothing inappropriate, or even faintly romantic, had ever happened. He was her boss, the man who had “discovered” her, and given her a great opportunity. And she was grateful to him for that. But there was absolutely nothing else between them. She wondered if anyone at work would make a comment about it, but no one did, until three days later when she got a call from Nick. He was flying a mail run to San Diego that night, and he could come up to see her the following morning. It would be Saturday and she was free to spend the day with him. She was supposed to go to a charity ball with one of Nancy's young friends that night, but for Nick, she'd gladly cancel.

“So, is Williams giving you the rush, or are you falling for him?” he asked bluntly after he told her he'd meet her at her apartment as soon as he came up from San Diego.

“What's that supposed to mean?” She was annoyed at his assumption.

“I was in Chicago yesterday, Cass. I saw the picture of you two in the paper. Looks pretty cozy.” There was an edge to his voice she'd never heard there before, and she didn't like it.

“I happen to work for him. And he took me out to dinner. That was it. He has about as much interest in me as he has in his engineers, so knock it off.”

“I think you're being naive. And those didn't look like work clothes.” He was angry and jealous, and sorry her father had ever let her come out here. The flying she was doing for Williams was too damn dangerous. But it wasn't just the flying he was upset about. It was the look on Desmond's face as he looked at her in the photograph in the paper.

“It was just a business dinner, Nick. He was just being nice taking me out. He was probably bored to death. And believe it or not, those are my work clothes.” She was referring to the slinky black dress she'd been wearing. “My chaperone buys me everything, and they send me out every night like a trained dog to show off and get my picture taken. They call it public relations.”

“Doesn't sound like work to me. Or flying.” He was consumed with annoyance, and the loneliness of not having seen her in over a month. He had been aching to see her. But she hadn't had time to get home yet. It had shocked him to discover how much he missed her. He felt as though he'd lost a limb, or his best friend. And he didn't like the idea of Williams taking her out to dinner.

“We'll talk about it when you're here,” she said quietly, sounding more grown-up than she had at home. She had already changed, but she didn't know it. And she had already acquired a lot of big-city polish. “How long can you stay?”

“I've got to be out by six o'clock. I've got to get back with some mail.” She was instantly disappointed, and she would have no excuse to cancel her “date” to go to the ball to benefit children with infantile paralysis.

“Well, we'll make the best of it. Try and get here early.”

“As early as I can, kid. I'm not flying the fancy stuff you are.”

“You don't need 'em. The way you fly, you could fly egg crates and get more out of them than anything I see here,” she said warmly.

“Stop flattering an old man,” he said, sounding mellower than he had at the beginning of the call. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

She could hardly wait, and she was up as usual at three-thirty, anxious for him to arrive. It seemed endless, before he rang her bell at seven-fifteen that morning. She flew down the stairs and threw herself into his arms so hard she almost knocked him down. He was stunned by the sheer beauty of her, and the force of her affection. She had missed him too, even more than she'd realized. She missed their confidences, and their long talks, and their flying.

“Hey, wait a minute, you… give a guy a chance, before you knock the wind out of me…” She was kissing him and hugging him, she was like a lost child who had finally found her parents. “Hey, it's okay… it's okay…” There were tears in her eyes as she clung to him, and he held her so close he wanted never to let her go. She had never looked as good to him, or felt as good in his arms, and he had to force himself to step back and release her. He would have liked to stay that way forever. “Wow… don't you look fine.” He smiled. He noticed the new haircut, and the makeup, and she was wearing beige slacks and a white sweater. She looked surprisingly like Hepburn or Hayworth. “You don't look like you've been suffering,” he teased, and then he whistled when he saw the apartment. “My, my… talk about hardship…”

“Isn't it great?” she beamed at him, and showed him around. He was very impressed, and he had to remind himself that this was the little girl he had known since she was a baby. This was not some movie star he had just met. This was Pat O'Malley's daughter.

“Looks like you got lucky, Cass,” he said fairly. But he also thought she deserved it. There was no reason for her not to have all this. But he still worried about her. “Do they treat you right?”

“They do everything for me. Buy me clothes, feed me, I have a maid, she's the nicest woman you've ever met. Her name is Lavinia. I have a chaperone named Nancy, who buys me clothes and sets up everything for me, like all the events I have to go to, my escorts, the people I see.” She chatted on and Nick looked at her strangely.

“Your escorts? They set you up with men?” He looked startled, and none too pleased, as she served him the breakfast she had made for him, and fried some eggs while he waited.

“Sort of. But not really. Some of them aren't really… I mean… they don't really like women, you know… but they're friends of Nancy's, or she knows who they are. Some of them are actors who need to be seen, and we… I… we go to events, or parties and get our photographs taken together.” She looked embarrassed as she explained it to him, it wasn't the part of her work she liked best by any means, but after Desmond's explanation the other night, she was trying to accept it. “I don't like doing it, but it's important to Desmond.”

“Desmond?” Nick raised an eyebrow as he ate the eggs she had made him. They were delicious. But the sudden mention of Williams in such familiar terms made him stop eating.

“He thinks public relations is the most important thing in business.”

“What about flying? Is that important to him, or do you even get to do that?”

“Come on, Nick, be fair. I have to do what they ask me to. Look at all this,” She waved around at the spacious modern kitchen and the rest of the apartment beyond it. “Look what they're doing for me. If they want me to go out and have my photograph taken, I owe it to them. It's not such a big deal.” But he looked angry as he listened.

“That's bullshit, and you know it. You didn't come out here to be a model, or go to finishing school, Cass. And the only thing you owe them is to risk your ass testing their planes, and break any record you can. That's what you owe them. The rest is up to you, or at least it should be. Williams doesn't own you, for chrissake. Or does he?” He looked at her ominously, and she shook her head. He made her feel ashamed for going along with the plan. But she did feel she owed it to them, and she could also understand what Williams wanted. He wanted her to become a star, in order to further her career in aviation, and publicize his planes. That wasn't totally wrong, and the other women in aviation had done their share of it too. You did what you had to.

“I don't think you're being fair,” she said quietly.

“I think you're being used, and it makes me mad as hell,” he said, pushing his plate away, and then taking a sip of his coffee. “He wants to use you, Cass. I can smell it.”

“That's not true. He wants to help me, Nick. He's already done a lot for me, and I just got here.”

“Like what? Take you out dancing the other night? How often has he done that?”

“Just that once. He was being nice. And he was trying to explain to me how important it is to do the social things too, because Nancy told him how much I hate it.”

“Well, at least I know you haven't been completely snowed by him. How often have you been out with him?” he asked pointedly, and she looked him square in the eye when she answered.

“I told you just that once. And he was totally polite and respectful. He was a perfect gentleman. He danced with me twice, and it just so happened that the second time he danced with me they took our picture.”

“And that was an accident, I suppose.” He marveled at her innocence. It was all so obvious to him. He had thought it a great opportunity at first, but only if their main focus had been on her flying. All this social nonsense, and going out, and courting the press told him something very different. It told him Williams was using her in a much broader sense. And he knew she was too young to understand it. And what more did Williams want from her? Did he want her for himself? As young and naive as she was, she would be inevitably dazzled by him and Nick suddenly realized he didn't like the prospect of that either. She was too young to be involved with a man like him. And besides, Desmond Williams didn't love her. Nick had said all this to Pat, and even suggested that Williams might have unsuitable designs on her, and he had tried to rile Pat up about it. But her father was under Oona's spell and she was completely enthralled to be seeing her daughter in newsreels. And Pat wouldn't have done anything to interfere with it. She was safe, she was well, and from what she said in her letters, they were treating her like royalty. She even had a chaperone, so how unsuitable could that be? And they were paying her a ransom on top of it. What more could she ask for?

“Don't you realize,” Nick went on, pressing her, “that either the guy has the hots for you, or he set it up to look that way by taking you someplace where you'd be seen, and photographed. He probably tipped them off that he'd be taking you there. So now America has more than just a pretty face to fall in love with, they have a romance. Dashing tycoon Desmond Williams courts America's sweetheart from the Midwest, girl next door and flying ace, Cassie O'Malley. Cassie, wake up. The guy is using you, and he's great at it. It's working. He's going to make you the biggest name there is, just to sell his goddamn planes and then what?” That was what worried Nick. What if he married her? The thought of it made him feel sick, but he didn't say that.

“What difference does it make? What's wrong with it?” Cassie didn't see all the dangers he did.

“He's doing it for himself, for his business, not for you. He's not sincere. He doesn't give a damn. This is business to him. He's exploiting you, Cass, and it scares me.” Everything about Williams, and his plans for Cassie, scared him.

“Why?” That was what she didn't understand. Why was he so against it? And why was he so suspicious of Desmond Williams? He had done only good things for her, but Nick saw other dangers.

“Look what happened to Earhart. She got too big for herself, she did something she never should have… a lot of people thought she wasn't capable of that last trip, and she obviously wasn't. What if he sets you up for something like that? What if that's what he's leading up to? You'll get hurt, Cass…” He felt his heart squeeze as he thought of it, and all he wanted to do was take her back to Good Hope where he knew she'd be safe forever.

“He's not doing that, Nick. I swear. He has no plans for me. At least not that I know of. And I'm a better flier than she was anyway.” It was an outrageous thing to say, and she laughed as she said it. But Nick took her seriously, as he sat there and watched her. She had gotten still lovelier in the month she'd been away and she didn't even know it.

“You are faster, as a matter of fact. And you don't know what his plans are. This guy isn't doing it for small potatoes. He's got his eye on the big time.”

“Maybe you're right,” she said, doubtfully. Maybe he did have a world tour in mind. “If he mentions anything about one, I'll tell you. I promise.”

“Be careful.” He frowned at her, still worried about her, and lit a cigarette, as she closed her eyes and sniffed the familiar fumes of his Camels. They reminded her of her father's airport… and of Nick… and the old days, of meeting at the airfield in Prairie City. Just sitting there with him made her desperately homesick, for him, and all the people she loved there. But she had missed him almost more than anyone.

In the end he relaxed, and enjoyed the fact that he was finally with her again. Being away from her for so long had almost driven him crazy. And day after day, he had thought of new plots that Williams might be hatching to exploit her. He finally stopped nagging her about Williams's plans for her, and the fact that she was being used, and they had a nice afternoon. They went for a long walk on the beach, and sat on the sand in the August sun, looking out at the ocean. It felt good just sitting side by side again, and they sat for a long time together in silence.

“There's going to be a war in Europe soon,” he said prophetically, when they started chatting again. ‘The signs are as clear as that sun up there,” he said unhappily. “Hitler won't be controlled. They're going to have to stop him.”

“Do you think we'll get into it eventually?” She loved talking to him about politics again. She had no one to talk to here. She was too solitary and too busy. Nancy talked to her about clothes, and her “escorts” just posed for pictures.

“Most people think we won't get into it,” he said quietly. “But I thing we'll have to.”

“And you?” She knew him well. Too well. She wondered if that was what he was telling her. That he felt the same pull he had felt twenty years before. She hoped not. “Would you go?”

“I'm probably too old to go.” He was thirty-eight, and not old by any means. But he could have stayed home if he'd wanted to. Pat was too old to fight another war. But Nick still had choices. “But I'd probably want to.” He smiled at her, his hair flying in the salt air, as hers did. They were sitting side by side on the sand, their shoulders touching and their hands. It was so comforting to have him near her. She had relied on him for so long, and learned so much from him. She missed him more than anyone at home, and he had found that her absence was like a physical ache that still had not abated.

“I don't want you to go,” she said unhappily, looking into the blue eyes she knew so well, with the small crow's-feet beside them. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him. She wanted to make him promise he wouldn't go to another war in Europe.

“I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you, Nick.” She said it so softly he could hardly hear her.

“We take the same risks every day,” he said honestly. “You can run into trouble tomorrow, so can I. I think we both know that.”

“That's different.”

“Not really. I worry about you out here too. Flying those planes is risky business. You're dealing with high speeds, and heavy machines, and altered engines at unusual altitudes. You're looking for problems and trying to set records. That's about as dangerous as you get,” he said grimly. “I keep worrying that you're going to crash somewhere in one of his damn test planes.” He looked at her seriously and they both recognized the danger. “Besides, your dad says women pilots can't fly worth a damn.” He grinned and she laughed.

“Thanks.”

“I know what a lousy teacher you had.”

“Yeah.” She smiled up at him, and touched his face with her fingers. “I miss you a lot… I miss the days when we used to hang out and talk on our runway.”

“So do I,” he said softly, and curled her fingers into his. “Those were some special times.” She nodded, and neither of them said anything for a long time, and then they walked along the beach for a while and talked about family and friends back home. Her brother hadn't flown since the air show, and her father didn't seem to mind. Chris was busy with school now. Colleen was pregnant again. To Cassie, it seemed endless. And Bobby had started seeing Peggy Bradshaw. She was widowed and alone with two small kids, and Nick had seen him more than once, driving his truck to her little cottage.

“She'd be good for him,” Cassie said fairly, surprised at how little she felt for him. It was only amazing that they had been engaged for a year and a half. They never should have been. “And now shell hate flying as much as he does,” she said sadly, thinking of the horrifying accident at the air show. It had been so awful.

“You'd have been miserable with him,” Nick said, looking down at her possessively. He wanted to stay right here and protect her, from being used, or endangered.

“I know. I think I even knew that then. I just didn't know how to get out of it without hurting his feelings. And I really thought I was supposed to many him. I don't know what I'm going to do,” she said, looking out at the horizon. “One of these days everyone's going to want me to grow up and get out of the sky, and then what am I going to do, Nick? I don't think I could stand it.”

“Maybe you can figure out a way to have both one day. A real life, and flying. I never have, but you're smarter than I am.” He was always honest with her. Most of them made a choice. He had made his. And so had she, for the moment.

“I don't see why you can't have both. But nobody else seems to believe that.”

“It's not much of a life for the other guy, and most people are smart enough to know that. Bobby was. So was my wife.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “I guess so.”

They went back to her apartment after that, and talked some more. And he promised to tell her mother all about where she lived. And afterward she drove him to the airport. She got into the familiar Bellanca with him, and she almost cried. It was like going home. She sat there with him for a long time, and then finally, she got out, once he was on the runway.

He looked down at her with the smile she had known and loved all her life, and she wanted to cry and beg him to take her with him. But they had their lives to lead. He had to get back to Illinois, and she had signed a contract with Desmond Williams. Most people would have died for what he had given her, but a part of her wanted to throw it all away and go home to where life was simpler.

“Take care of yourself, kid. Don't let them take too many pictures.” He smiled at her. He still didn't trust what Williams had up his sleeve. But he felt better about Cassie now that he had seen her. She had her head on her shoulders. And she wasn't being snowed by anyone. She also didn't appear to be in love with Desmond Williams.

“Come back soon, Nick.”

“I'll try.” His eyes held hers for a long time. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but this wasn't the time, or the moment.

“Say hi to everyone… Mom… Dad… Chris… Billy…” She was lingering, wishing he would stay. But she knew he couldn't.

“Yeah.” He looked down at her, wishing he could swoop her up with him. He had wanted to do that for a long time, but he knew now he never would. It wasn't in their destinies. All he had to do was learn to accept that. “Make sure you don't run off with Desmond Williams. I'll come after you, if you do. Course your mama might shoot me for destroying your big chance.”

“Tell her not to worry,” Cassie laughed. That was one thing that she was sure would never happen. “Tell her I love her.” And then as he revved up his engines, she had to shout at him. “I love you, Nick… thanks for coming.”

He nodded, wanting to tell her he loved her too, but he didn't. He couldn't. He saluted her, signaled her to step back, and a few minutes later he was circling lazily and dipping his wings over the Pasadena Airport. She watched him as long as she could, until he disappeared, a tiny speck on the horizon.