Wings

13

The first weeks after Nick was gone were difficult for Cass. Her mind was constantly on him, but she had to force herself to concentrate on other things when she was flying. She seemed to fly all the time, from morning till night, and in the month of September she set two more records in the Phaeton. By October, Poland had fallen completely into German hands. And Cassie knew that Nick was at Hornchurch Aerodrome, and assigned to a unit of fighter pilots as an instructor. He was training young pilots to do what he had done in the last war, and for the moment he wasn't flying missions himself. Her father claimed that his age might keep him out of it, but with his extraordinary reputation, he thought it unlikely. But at least for the moment, he was safe. He hadn't written to her, but he had gotten word to her father through another pilot, which was something.

Her life in Los Angeles was as hectic as usual, and the photographers and social events seemed to be thicker than ever. But Desmond kept insisting on the importance of it, and he took her to lunch from time to time, to discuss his planes and her observations of them, which always astounded him, but also to encourage her about the importance of public relations. Their conversations were almost always about his planes, and he was always very businesslike with her. There was a mutual respect there too, and at times he seemed a little more friendly. But the only thing that ever really interested him was his business. And for someone who had such a strong interest in publicity, she was surprised that she so seldom saw anything personal about him in the papers.

He continued to be very generous with her, giving her a large bonus each time she set a record. And he encouraged her to fly all his planes. On Thanksgiving she went home in a Williams P-6 Storm Petrel; she was sleek and painted black and the sheer beauty of her totally amazed her father. She took him up in it, and offered Chris a ride too, but he said he was too busy. He had a new girlfriend in Walnut Grove, and he didn't want to waste any time at the airport. But Billy was more than eager to go with her. He had heard from Nick. It seemed as though everyone had, except Cassie. It was almost as though he were proving a point. But she had long since understood the message. It was just as he had said it would be in spite of all her pleas and protests. “I love you. So long. End of Story.” And there was nothing she could do about it now, if ever. She talked to Billy about it late one night, and he told her Nick was the greatest guy he'd ever known, but the epitome of a loner.

“I think he's crazy about you, Cass. I saw it the first time I met you. I figured you knew it too, and I was surprised you didn't. But he's scared, I guess. He's not used to taking anyone with him. And he figured maybe he wouldn't come back this time. He didn't want to do that to you.”

“Great. So he tells me he loves me, and then dumps me.”

“He figures you should marry some hotshot in L.A. He said so.”

“Nice of him to decide that,” she complained, but there was nothing she could do. Talking to Billy helped. He was like another brother, except one who liked to fly as much as she did. He was planning to come out and see her in LA sometime before Christmas.

And when she left again, she promised to come home for the Christmas holidays. Until then, she had a lot to do. Williams was introducing two new planes, and she was an important part of those introductions. She was going to be doing test flights, and interviews, and posing for photographs. But she figured that by Christmas the worst of it would be all over. Desmond had already agreed to give her a week off between Christmas and New Year's.

The Russians invaded Finland the day she went back after the Thanksgiving holiday, and it was obvious that things were not going well in Europe. It worried her for Nick, but with her grueling schedule, she scarcely had time to keep up with the news.

She was relieved to know that, for the moment, Nick was just an instructor.

When Billy came out to visit her in mid-December, she took him up in their best planes. He was stunned by what she'd been flying.

“You've got some great stuff out here, Cass,” His eyes had lit up like Christmas when he saw the maritime patrol variant developed by Williams from an earlier transport, borrowing innovations from Howard Hughes's fabulous racer.

“They'd probably give you a job as a test pilot if you ever wanted it,” she suggested to him, but her father would probably be outraged by her luring him away. Pat was relying on him now, and Billy knew that.

“I couldn't leave him,” Billy smiled. “Just bring one of these gals home for a visit now and then, and that'll keep me happy.”

But she introduced him to Desmond Williams anyway, and told him what an extraordinary pilot Billy was the next time they had lunch in his office. He showed some interest in him, but his real interest was in Cassie. He couldn't imagine another pilot who flew as well as she did. They talked a lot about the war in Europe these days too. He was hoping to sell planes abroad, and like Nick, he assumed America would get involved eventually.

“I think we'll get shamed into it by our allies,” he said calmly. It was exactly what had happened last time.

“I've got a friend over there now,” she admitted to him one day. “He signed up as a fighter instructor for the RAF. He's stationed at Hornchurch.” It was one of those rare days when they talked about something more than business.

“He sounds like a noble man,” Desmond commented as a waiter poured coffee for them in his private office.

“No, just another fool like the rest of us,” she said ruefully and he laughed. They both knew that fliers were a special breed of people.

“And what about you, Cass? No grandiose ideas of noble plans? You've accomplished a great deal since you've been here. Does that give you any bigger ideas?” She wasn't sure what he had in mind, but he seemed to have an idea he wasn't ready to discuss yet.

“Not for the moment,” she said honestly, “I'm happy here. You've been very good to me, Desmond.”

He couldn't help notice that she had grown up a lot in the five months since she'd been in Los Angeles. She looked very sophisticated, and very polished, in part thanks to Nancy's help. But Cassie had her own ideas about clothes now. She handled herself beautifully with the press, and the public adored her. Not enough of them knew her yet, for his taste, but in the spring, he wanted her to start doing a tour of local air shows. She wondered sometimes what difference that kind of publicity made and if it really sold airplanes. Most air shows seemed so local and small scale. But it was important to him, and he reminded her that he expected her to make a tour of several hospitals and orphanages for a Christmas newsreel.

“You should have time to do that before you go home,” he said firmly.

“Don't worry, I'll take care of it.” She smiled at him and he laughed. Her eyes were always full of mischief, and he found it very appealing. He knew how much she disliked his publicity ideas, and he always wondered if she would balk at them. But in the end, she always did what was expected of her.

“In January, we're flying to New York, by the way,” he said casually, but this time with a glimmer in his own eye. “For a meeting between the queen of the cockpit, Cassie O'Malley, and the illustrious Charles Lindbergh.” She knew her father would be thrilled with that piece of news when she told him. Even she was impressed by that one, as she listened to Desmond explain it to her.

They were taking Desmond's brand-new plane, and Cassie was to fly a brief demonstration for Lindbergh, and then he would give both her and the plane his endorsement. He had already promised it to Desmond, and they were old friends. Like Desmond, Charles Lindbergh knew the value of public relations. And besides Lindy was interested in meeting Desmond's legendary young pilot.

She managed to do her hospital tour as planned, and Desmond was extremely pleased with what they got of it on the newsreel. And then she went home on schedule, for a week. Her mother had influenza, but she managed to be up and around long enough to cook Christmas dinner for all of them, and her father was in fine form. Billy had gone home too, to see his dad in San Francisco. And Chris was all wrapped up in Jessie, his new girl in Walnut Grove, so there was no one for her to play with. But she was happy anyway. She went for a long walk on Christmas Eve, and to church that night with her sisters. She stopped at the airfield on the way back, to check on her plane. She always felt even more responsible for the ones she brought home, they were so valuable and they weren't hers. But it was fun to fly them.

She checked that no one had disturbed anything, that the windows were closed, and the engine was protected. Her father had cleared his best hangar for her, and she knew that all his friends would come to see the plane she'd flown home. Little by little, she was becoming a legend.

After she'd checked on the plane, she walked slowly back into the night air. It was cold and brisk, and there was snow on the ground. It reminded her of Christmases when she was a little girl, and she had come to the airport with Nick and her father. It was hard not to think of him here. There were so many memories that Nick was a part of. She looked up at the sky, thinking of him, and almost jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice behind her whisper “Merry Christmas.” She wheeled to see who it was, and gave a gasp when she saw him standing there in uniform, like a vision.

“Oh, my God…” She stared at him in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” she asked Nick breathlessly as she flung herself toward him and he caught her.

“Should I go back?” he asked with a grin, looking handsomer than ever, as he held her and she hugged him.

“No. Never,” she answered as he clung to her as powerfully as she held him. He had never been happier than at this moment as he kissed her.

They were golden days. They talked, they laughed, they flew, they went for long walks, they even went ice skating on the pond, and to see Ninotchka with Garbo at the movies. It was all like a dream. Their time together was so precious and so short, it was idyllic. And although they sat and kissed and held each other for hours sometimes, he was adamant that no one know what had changed between them.

“My father knows anyway. What difference does it make?” She was always so matter-of-fact, but as usual he was insistent, and convinced he was right.

“I don't want to ruin your reputation.”

“By kissing me? How old-fashioned can you get?”

“Never mind. The whole world doesn't need to know you've fallen in love with an old man.”

“I'll be sure not to tell them your age.”

“Thanks.” But as usual, he was very stubborn. There were no ties, no promises, no future held out to her. There was only now, and the infinite exquisite beauty and pain of the moment. They kissed constantly whenever they were alone, and they were hard-pressed not to go any further. But the last thing he wanted to do now was leave her pregnant.

The day before he had to leave, he brought up the subject of the war. He said conditions in England were good, and so far he hadn't flown a single mission.

“They'll probably never put me out there at my age, and you'll get me back like a bad penny at the end of the war. And then you'll be sorry, my friend,” he warned her. But that was all she wanted.

“And then what?” She tried to pin him down, but he wouldn't let her.

“Then I talk you into marrying Billy, which you should be doing yourself, not an old goat like me.” At thirty-eight, he was hardly an old goat, but no matter what she felt, he was still convinced he was too old for Cassie. She wondered sometimes if he hadn't seen her in diapers if he might have felt different.

“I don't happen to love Billy, if you care,” she explained with a grin, as they walked by the lake.

“That's absolutely immaterial. You'll have to marry him anyway.”

“Thank you.”

“Don't mention it.”

“Should we warn him?” Cassie loved being with him, he always made her laugh, even when he made her cry, which he had done a lot lately.

“Eventually. Might as well let the boy relax for a while. Besides he might bolt if he knew.”

“How flattering!” She gave him a shove and he almost tripped on the ice. He gave her a push then too, and a few minutes later they were rolling in the snow again and kissing.

They were perfect days, and over too soon, almost as soon as they had begun. She flew him to Chicago, and he took the train to New York, and from there he would return to England.

“Will you be able to come back again soon?” she asked as they stood waiting for the train in Union Station.

“I don't know. That was kind of a fluke. I'll have to see what happens once I'm back at Hornchurch.” She nodded. She understood that.

There were no promises again, only tears, and the aching feeling of knowing that he might not come back and this could be the last time she ever saw him. He kissed her one last time before he left, and she ran beside the train for as long as she could, and then he was gone, and she stood alone in the station.

It was a lonely flight back to Good Hope, and the next day she flew back to LA, and her apartment. She was desperately lonely for him this time, and tired of the ache of worry and not knowing if he was all right, if he'd be back, and if they'd ever find a way to be together. She wondered if he'd ever get over the objections to the difference in their ages, it was so hard to know what would happen.

In January, she flew to New York with Desmond and his new plane to demonstrate it for Charles Lindbergh. There were lots of photographs and newsreels too. And after that, it was a long, lonely spring for her, despite the long flights, the constant tests, the checking and rechecking of new equipment. She was racking up quite a reputation, for her skill and passion for flying. And she had begun meeting some of the women she had only read about for years, like Pancho Barnes and Bobbi Trout. They gave her whole life new dimension. She spent time with Nancy and Jane Firestone too. It was fun being with them, although she realized eventually that she never became as close friends with Nancy as she had hoped to. Maybe there was just too much difference in their ages.

She had dinner again with Desmond one night in April, and he surprised her by asking if she was involved with anyone. Given the businesslike relationship they shared, it struck her as an odd question, but she told him that she wasn't, and Nancy was still lining up her “escorts.”

“I'm surprised,” he said pleasantly.

“Just too ugly I guess,” Cassie smiled at him, and he couldn't help laughing as she joked. And in truth, she looked more spectacular than ever. If anything, she had gotten more beautiful, and Desmond had never been as pleased with any of his plans or projects.

“Maybe you work too hard,” he said thoughtfully, looking her straight in the eye. “Or is there someone at home?”

“Not anymore,” she smiled sadly. “He's in England. And he's not mine,” she added quietly. “He's his own. Very much so.”

“I see. That might change.” Desmond was intrigued by her, she was as good as any man at what she did, better perhaps, and far more serious about her work. She didn't seem to care at all about her social life, and even less about becoming famous. It was part of her charm, and part of what the public sensed, and why they loved her. In spite of her astonishing success and visibility in the past nine months, she had somehow managed to stay modest. He didn't know many women like that. He liked a lot of things about her, and he was surprised he did. It was rare for him to take a personal interest in his employees, except for unusual cases, like Nancy's.

“War does funny things to men,” he said. “Sometimes they change… sometimes they realize what's important to them.”

“Yes,” Cassie said with a wistful smile, “their bombers. I think fliers are a different breed of men. At least all the ones I know are. The women too. They're all a little crazy.”

“It's part of the charm.” He smiled at her, suddenly looking more relaxed than she'd ever seen him.

“I'll have to remember that,” she said, sipping her wine, and watching him. She wondered what made him tick, but there was no way of knowing. Even when he was being friendly, he was completely guarded. There was really no way of knowing him. He was careful to keep his distance. Nancy had told her that about him, and Cassie finally understood it.

“And then there are the rest of us.” He smiled at her again. “Those who live on the ground. So simple, and so lowly.”

“I don't think I'd say that,” she said quietly, as he watched her. “More sensible perhaps. More reasonable about what life is all about, more directed toward their goals. There's a lot of merit to that, I think.”

“And you? Where do you fall in all that, Cass? Up in the sky, or on the ground? You seem to live very successfully in both worlds, from what I've noticed.” But the sky was her preference, she lived to fly, and he knew that. All she did on the ground was pass time until she could get back in the air, and fly with the birds again.

And then he decided to spring his idea on her. It was still too soon, but not for the seed to be sown, like a precious baby. “What would you think of a world tour?” he asked cautiously, and she looked up, startled. Nick had warned her of that, and its dangers. He had said that that was what Williams had in mind all along. But how could he have known? She looked puzzled as she struggled for an answer.

“Now? Wouldn't it be awfully difficult?” The Germans had already invaded Norway and Denmark, and they were advancing toward Belgium and the Netherlands at that moment. “A lot of Europe would be inaccessible to us, and the Pacific is awfully sensitive,” It had affected Earhart's route, and that had been three years before. Things were so much worse now.

“We could probably get around it. It wouldn't be easy, but we could do it, if we had to. But I've always thought that was the ultimate. The round the world trip. If you did it right. It has to be carefully planned and brilliantly handled. And it's not for now of course. It would take at least a year of planning.”

“I've always thought it would be fantastic, but right now or even a year from now, I can't imagine how well do it.” She was intrigued by the idea, but nervous about it too, and mindful of Nick's warnings. But Desmond seemed so sure of what he wanted.

“Let me worry about that, Cass,” he said, touching her hand, looking excited for the first time since she'd known him. It was his dream. And he had shared it with her. “All you'd have to do is fly the very best plane in the sky. The rest is mine to worry about. If you'd ever want to do it.”

“I'd have to give it some thought.” It would certainly change her life. Her name would be a household word forever, just like Cochran or Lindbergh, Elinor Smith, or Helen Richey.

“Let's talk about it again this summer.” They both knew her contract would be up for renewal then. And there was no reason why she wouldn't want to renew with them. She made no secret of the fact that she loved what she was doing. But the world tour was something else. It was her dream too, but Nick had been so adamant about her not doing it for Williams.“… He's using you…” she could still hear his words… “Cassie… don't do it… it scares me…” But why not? What was wrong with it? And why shouldn't she? Nick was doing what he wanted, wasn't he? And most of the time, he didn't even bother to write her. She had only had two letters from him since Christmas. And they only told her what he was doing, and not what he felt for her. He was doing nothing to maintain his relationship with her. He thought it wasn't right for her, and he refused to encourage her, or ask her to wait for him. His letters were like bulletins from flight school.

Desmond had taken her dancing that night, and all he talked about as they whirled around the floor at Mocambo was his world tour. Now that he had shared it with her, he couldn't stop talking about it, and he felt sure that she would be as excited about it as he was.

He mentioned it to her again the following week, not to press her about it, but just in passing, as though it were a secret they shared, a goal they both longed for. It was obvious that this was something that meant a great deal to him, and now that he had shared it with her, he felt closer to her.

And given how busy he was, Cassie was startled when he asked if he could take her out for her twenty-first birthday. She was surprised he knew, but he had armies of people to remind him of minor details. Details were important to him, the smallest element of anything fascinated him, and he thought it was the key between the ordinary and perfection.

Not having anyone special to celebrate with, Cassie was pleased he remembered. He took her to the Victor Hugo Restaurant, and then dancing at Ciro's afterward for an evening which touched her deeply. He had a birthday cake for her at the restaurant and served champagne both there and at Ciro's. He had obviously checked with Nancy Firestone about all of Cassie's favorite things, and the entire meal was planned around them. Her favorite dinner, her favorite cake, her favorite songs. She felt like a little girl having a magical birthday. And afterward he gave her a diamond pin in the form of a plane, with the number twenty-one on its wings, and the word Cassie on its side. He had had it made months before by Cartier. He told her that after she opened it, and she couldn't believe the trouble he'd gone to.

“How could you do that?” She blushed as she looked at it. She had never seen anything as beautiful, and somehow felt she didn't deserve it.

But he was looking at her very seriously. She had only seen him look that way at a plane that he was studying before he redesigned it. “I always knew you'd be very important to me someday. I knew that the first day I met you.” He said it with total seriousness but Cassie laughed, remembering the moment

“In the overalls with the grease all over my face? I must have made quite an impression.” She was laughing and holding the pin that seemed so remarkable to her. Even the propeller moved when she touched it.

“You did,” he admitted. “You're the only woman I know who looks good in blackface.’

“Desmond, you're awful.” She laughed, feeling close to him. It was odd, but despite the distance between them, she felt friendly toward him. He was one of the few friends she had here. Other than Desmond, there was only Nancy, and one or two of the other pilots. But there was no one she spent any real time with. She respected Desmond enormously and all he stood for and worked so hard for. He believed in excellence, at any cost, to him, or to his company. He never settled for anything less than perfection. Just like the little plane she held in her hand as a gift from him. It was perfect.

“Am I awful, Cass?” he asked seriously after her light-hearted comment. “I've been told that by experts and they're probably right.” But he said it so disarmingly, she felt sorry for him. She realized he was a lonely man, in spite of his importance, and all the luxuries he had. He had no children, no wife, few friends, and according to the newspapers at the moment, not even a girlfriend. All he had were his airplanes and his business.

“You know you're not awful,” Cass said softly.

“I'd like to be your friend, Cass,” he said honestly, and held a hand out to her across the table. She wasn't quite sure what he meant, but she was deeply touched by all he'd done for her, and the gesture of friendship.

“I am your friend, Desmond. You've been very Kind to me… even before this… I never really felt that I deserved it.”

“That's why I like you,” he smiled, “you don't expect anything, and you deserve it all, even better than that.” He gestured to the tiny diamond plane in her hand, and then took it from her, and pinned it on her dress from across the table. “You're a special girl, Cass. I've never known anyone like you.” She smiled at him, touched by what he had said, and grateful for his friendship.

He took her home that night, and walked her upstairs. He didn't ask to come in, and he never mentioned the world tour. But he surprised her by sending her flowers the next day, and calling her on Sunday and inviting her to go for a ride. It had never even occurred to her before what he might do on the weekends. She usually flew if she had time, or Nancy booked her into social events where she had to be seen with her long list of escorts.

Desmond picked her up at two o'clock, and they drove out to Malibu, and walked on the beach. It was a glorious day, and the beach was almost deserted. He talked for a while about his youth, his years in boarding school, and then at Princeton. He hadn't been home a lot during that time. His mother had died when he was very young, and his father had plunged himself into his business. He had built an empire, but in the process of building it, he had forgotten his only child. He had never even bothered to have Desmond home for vacations. He stayed at his various schools, first Fessenden then St. Paul's, and then finally Princeton. By then, he didn't really care anymore, he went away on his own or with friends for his vacation.

“Didn't you have any family at all?” Cassie looked horrified at the story of his desperately lonely childhood.

“None. Both of my parents were only children. All of my grandparents were dead before I was born. I never had anyone except my father, and actually, I never really knew him. I think that's why I've never wanted any children of my own. I wouldn't have wanted to inflict that kind of pain on anyone. I'm happy as I am, and I wouldn't want to disappoint a child.” There was something very bleak and sad about him, and she understood him better now. It was the loneliness she had sensed, the isolation that had gone on for years. He had put it to good use, but how painful for him. And he still seemed so lonely.

“Desmond… you wouldn't disappoint anyone… you've been so kind to me.” He had been. Her contacts with him had been nothing but pleasant. He was the perfect gentleman, the perfect friend, the perfect employer. There was no reason why he couldn't be the perfect husband or parent. She knew he had been married twice previously and she also knew he had no children. Magazines she'd read made a big point of saying that there was no heir to his gigantic fortune. But now she knew why. He didn't want one.

“I married very young,” he explained, as they sat on the sand finally, looking out at the water. “I was still at Princeton. And it was incredibly stupid. Amy was a lovely girl, and completely spoiled by her parents. We came back here when I graduated, and she hated everything about it,” He looked at Cass then with sudden amusement. “I was the same age you are now, but with tremendous illusions about being grown up, and knowing what I was doing. She wanted me to move to New York, and I wouldn't. She wanted to be dose to her family, and I thought it terribly strange. I took her to Africa instead, on safari, and then to India for six months. And then we went to Hong Kong, where she took the first ship back to her parents. She said I had tortured her and taken her to horrible places. She said she'd been held hostage with savages.” He smiled at the absurdity of it and Cassie laughed. He made it all sound very funny. “By the time I got back, her father's lawyers had filed for divorce. I suppose I never understood that she wanted to be near her mother, and I wanted to show her something a lot more exciting.

“My next wife was a lot more intriguing. I was twenty-five, and she was a fascinating Englishwoman in Bangkok. She was ten yean older than I was, and apparently she'd led a very busy life. It turned out that she was married to someone else, and he surfaced rather unexpectedly while we were happily living together. He was not pleased, and our marriage was annulled. And then I came back here and settled down eventually. I enjoyed some of it, but I'm afraid none of that sounds like real marriage. I've never really tried it right here, or done what was expected of me. And once I inherited the business, I had no time for ail that nonsense. I had no time for anything… except the business. So here I am, ten years later, alone, and very boring.”

“I wouldn't call all that boring… safaris… India… Bangkok… It's certainly a long way from Illinois, where I come from. I'm the fourth of five children, and I've spent my whole life living on an airport, and I have sixteen nieces and nephews. You don't get much more mundane than that. I'm the first member of my family to go to college, the first woman to fly a plane, the first person to move away, although my father and mother came out from New York, and from Ireland before that. But it's awfully ordinary, and not in the least glamorous or exciting.”

“You're glamorous now, Cass,” he said quietly, watching her. He always seemed interested in her reactions.

“I don't think I am. I know I'm still the girl in the overalls, with grease all over her face.”

“What other people see is very different.”

“Maybe I just don't understand that.”

“You couldn't say we have an awful lot in common,” he said thoughtfully, “but sometimes that works,” he said pensively. “Actually, I'm not sure anymore what works. It's been so long since I even tried to figure it out, I can't remember.” She smiled, and suddenly she felt as though she were being interviewed, but she wasn't sure for what position. “What about you, Cass? Why is it exactly that at the ripe old age of twenty-one and two days, you're not married?” He was only half teasing. He wanted to know just how free she was. He had never been quite sure, although she didn't seem to be too tied to anyone, except maybe the RAF pilot in England.

“No one wants me,” she explained easily and he laughed, and so did she. She was surprisingly comfortable with him.

“Try again.” He lay back on the sand, looking at her, completely amused by her, and very relaxed in her unaffected presence. “Tell me something I'll believe.” She was far too beautiful for no one to want her.

“I mean it. Boys my age are terrified by women pilots. Unless they fly themselves, and then the last thing they want is competition from another pilot.”

“And what about boys my age?” he asked cautiously, as she remembered that he was four years younger than Nick, who was thirty-nine now.

“They seem to get upset about the difference in age. At least some of them do, the ones say… four years older than you are.”

“I see. They think you're immature?” But she wasn't that either.

“No, they think they're too old, but haven't come far enough in life and have nothing to offer me. They fly away to England and tell me to go play with kids my own age. No promises. No hope.”

“I see. And do you play with boys your own age?” He was intrigued by her story. He wondered immediately if it was her father's partner at the airport, but he didn't ask her. He assumed it was, after the way the fellow had tried to protect her from him that first day at the airport.

“No,” she said honestly. “I haven't had time for any boys of any age. I've been too busy flying for you, and going to all the social events you think are important.” She also didn't want to be involved with anyone. She was too much in love with Nick to care about someone else, but she didn't say that.

“Social events are important, Cassie.”

“Not to me,” she smiled.

“You can't be easy to please, Miss Cassie O'Malley.

You've been out five nights a week with a different man each night for close to a year now. And no one has struck your fancy?”

“I guess not. Too busy, no time, no interest. They all bore me.” She didn't bother telling him that most of them were male models, or less than masculine actors. Not that it made a difference to her.

“You're spoiled.” He wagged a finger at her, and she laughed at him.

“If I am, it's all your fault. Look what you've done for me, apartments, clothes, all the planes I could ever want to fly, including a diamond one”- she smiled gratefully, she had written him a thank-you note only that morning-” cars… hotels… fancy restaurants… who wouldn't be spoiled after all that?”

“You,” he said simply, telling the truth, and then he pulled her to her feet and they walked further down the beach in their bare feet telling each other silly stories. They had dinner at a little Mexican restaurant near her apartment, and he told her the food was terrible, but she loved it, and then he took her home and promised to call her the next morning.

“I go to work at four,” she said, “I won't be here.”

“So do I,” he smiled, “we must both work for the same tyrant. I'll call you at three-thirty.” She was surprised when he did. He was the oddest person. And so lonely. His stories of his childhood made her heart ache. It was no wonder he had never loved anyone, no one had ever loved him. It made her want to protect him, and undo it all, and yet at the same time he was always doing things for her. He was an unusual combination of warm and cold, invulnerable, and deeply wounded.

He picked her up at the airport that afternoon, and drove her home, but he didn't come in. And from then on, he called her every day, and took her to dinner several times a week in quiet places. He never did anything more than that, and Cassie never felt they were more than friends, but within a short time they were very good ones. He had never mentioned the world tour again, but she thought of it sometimes when she flew, and all of Nick's warnings. She thought he was crazy to have been so worried. Desmond had no desire to do anything that would harm her or push her. He wanted only the best for her. She was sure of that. More than anything, he was her friend now. He turned up at the oddest times, as she climbed out of a plane, or left for work at four in the morning. He was there for her, if she needed him, he never intruded on her, or asked for more than she wanted to give. He seemed to want so little from her, and yet she always sensed his presence.

He brought her new contract to her himself at the end of June, and this time she was amazed at what she saw in it. Most of the terms were the same, except that some of the social events were optional, and the money was doubled. He promised to let her test all their best planes, and wanted her to guarantee that she would do a minimum number of commercials per year. But then the last clause in the contract was the one that stunned her. It stated that for an additional hundred and fifty thousand dollars, plus any additional fees and benefits that accrued from it, he was offering her a world tour within the year, in the best plane they had, on the safest route that could be devised, to be embarked on, on the second of July 1941, almost exactly a year from then, on the anniversary of the day Amelia Earhart disappeared four years before. It was to be the publicity tour of all time, and she would undoubtedly set new records. The prospect of it was enormously tempting, but she thought she ought to discuss it with her father. She was going home that week anyway, for the air show.

“Do you think hell disapprove?” Desmond asked her nervously before she left, looking like a boy who was terrified someone would take his favorite toy from him. And she smiled and tried to reassure him.

“I don't think so. He may think it's dangerous, but if you think it could be done safely, I believe you,” He had never lied to her, never cheated her, never fooled her. He had never disappointed her as a friend, or as an employer. And they spent a great deal of time together. Theirs was a strange relationship for a girl her age, and a man his, it was based only on business and friendship. Nothing more. He had never even tried to kiss her and yet he had wanted to know that she was free. And he had relaxed visibly when he heard she was, with the exception of Nick, who hadn't written to her in months. She knew how violently he would have disapproved of this contract. “My father is pretty reasonable,” she reassured him.

“Cassie, I've always wanted to do this. But there was never anyone who could, or whom I would have trusted, or wanted to work with. I trust you completely. And I've never seen anyone fly a plane the way you do.” She couldn't help being flattered by what he said about her.

“We'll talk about it when I get back,” she promised him. She just needed a few days to think it out, but she was very tempted, and he knew it.

“You're not flying in the air show this year, are you?” He looked worried before he left her, but she was quick to shake her head. Her life was an air show every day, and she hadn't practiced. She just hadn't had time this year, although she was looking forward to going.

“No, but my brother is. God knows why. He doesn't really like to fly, he just does it to please my father.”

“He's no different than the rest of us. I did wrestling at Princeton, because my father had. It's the most disgusting sport in the world, and I hated every minute of it, but I thought he'd be delighted. I'm not sure he ever even knew, and when I think of all the stiff necks and bloody noses I got, not to mention the bruises.” She laughed at his description of it, and she promised him she'd call him from home and tell him about the air show.

“I'll miss you when you're gone, you know. I have no one else to call at three o'clock in the morning.”

“You can call me,” she said generously. “I'll get up to talk to you, it's five o'clock there.”

“Just have fun,” he smiled at her, “and come back and sign on for the world tour. But if you don't,” he suddenly said seriously, “we'll still be friends, you know. I'd understand if you didn't want to do it.” The way he said it made her want to throw her arms around him and tell him she loved him. He was such a solitary soul, and he wanted so badly to do the right thing, and to be fair. He also wanted the world tour so desperately. She really didn't want to disappoint him.

“I'll try not to let you down, Desmond, I promise. I just need some time to think about it.” She was glad she didn't have to face Nick and listen to him erupt like a volcano.

“I understand.” He kissed her on the cheek before she left, and told her to wish her brother luck from him, and she promised she would when she saw him.

She flew home in one of Desmond's twin engine transports and wondered what her father was going to say about the world tour when she asked him. There was no doubt that it was somewhat dangerous, even without the war, and the problems in the Pacific; flying long distance like that could be disastrous if you didn't know what you were doing, or had incredibly bad luck and hit unexpected storms. Nobody had ever figured out what had happened to Amelia Earthart The disappearance had no rational explanation, except perhaps that she'd run out of fuel and gone down without a trace. It was the only sensible reason anyone could come up with. The wilder theories had their fans, but Cassie had never believed them.

But the world tour gnawed at Cassie all the way home. Dangerous or not, she was aching to do it.