Lady Flyer, page 12
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d ordered dessert with a restaurant meal.
“So, your brother left you to face the angry headmistress by yourself?”
“Yes, that was Robert Harkness for you. Always stirring up a storm, then slipping away.”
Bob turned his dessert spoon back and forth. He had yet to try the ice cream. “Henry told me a little bit about your brother. I’m sorry he died.”
Talking about her brother tonight had made her miss him all the more fiercely. She looked down with a hard blink. “He left a wife and two little boys,” she said in a quiet voice. “He was only twenty-five but was always a daredevil. Couldn’t resist a race or challenge.”
“It sounds like he lived a full life, on his terms, even though it was cut short.” Bob set his spoon down, ice cream still untouched. “Some people never achieve their dreams. They wake up one day and discover they’ve lived decades without finding joy.”
“Yes.” She hadn’t thought of it like that before, and it was strangely comforting. Her brother had always gone after his passions, taking them to the extreme sometimes but finding joy in every corner of his life. “My parents also lost two little girls at birth—born before either of us—Gertrude and Hanna.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Bob said, subdued. “When I was ten years old, my older brother, John, died.”
Nancy blinked. “Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“He was born an invalid,” Bob continued, his voice dropping low. “Had a lot of health problems, so I guess it wasn’t a big shock, like your brother’s unexpected death. John was in his early twenties.”
She tried to imagine how it would be to have a sibling who was an invalid. The constant worry. The never-ending medical care. “Still, I’m sure it devastated everyone.”
“Yes.”
Nancy reached over and grasped his hand. “I’m really sorry, Bob. I know how big that hole can be.”
He looked at her hand on his, then he turned his hand over and linked their fingers.
She didn’t see it as romantic though—they were sharing their similar grief—so, then, why was her heart banging about? After a moment, she pulled her hand away, and he released it easily.
“What about other siblings?” she asked.
Bob’s face shifted into something lighter. “Ah, my older sister, Margaret. She’s eight years older than me, but she acts like my mother most of the time.”
“She sounds delightfully bossy.”
“Yes, she was, and still is.” Bob finally took a bite of his half-melted ice cream. “She was pretty much my full-time nurse when I was about seven and contracted polio soon after my brother’s death.”
Nancy brought a hand to her mouth, staring at Bob. His life had not been easy. Her preconceived judgments of a privileged childhood took a hard right turn. Could wealth really soften the blow of a lost brother and a dire case of polio? This man had many more layers than she’d first thought. “Oh no, that must have been terrible.”
He gave a small nod of acknowledgment. “It was compounded because the day before I found out I had polio, our chauffeur’s son died from it.”
She shook her head, trying to imagine so many tragedies at the same time. “But you recovered?”
“Due to Margaret’s constant care. That, and my dad convincing a doctor to experiment and use me as a lab rat.”
“What? How?”
Bob’s shrug was nonchalant. “I guess there were experiments that were comprised of taking blood from polio survivors and injecting that serum into someone currently suffering polio.”
“And . . . they injected serum into you?”
“Correct. Right into my spine. Paralyzed me for a while.”
“Bob . . . I can’t imagine.”
The corners of his mouth curved upward, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Rough time all the way around. But . . . I recovered fully. I only limp when I’ve had an exhausting day. Modern medicine is a miracle, isn’t it?”
Nancy exhaled slowly. “It is, yet that’s still a lot to take in.”
He leaned back in his chair, arms folded. “Sorry about the heavy stuff. My sister likes to remind me from time to time that I owe her my life—all that babying she did.”
The things he’d confessed were remarkable, truly remarkable. “She sounds like the best sister, even if she wants all the accolades. I think she deserves them.” Nancy smiled. “I always wished I had a sister, but I guess nosy roommates will have to do.”
Bob released a chuckle, and Nancy was grateful the seriousness of the conversation had eased.
“Well, Margaret would be happy to meet you anytime.”
Nancy didn’t know what she thought of that comment. Had he told his sister about her—or told his parents?
“Henry told me a little about that accident you were in with John Miller—and how you got the gray streak in your hair.”
Nancy absently touched the part of her hair that persistently stayed gray. “Yes, it’s quite the thing. I’ve stumped all doctors.” Bob smiled. She quite liked his smile. “Poor John, he ended up with pretty good scars. So, I guess we both have reminders.”
“Well, I’m glad you both pulled through.”
She nodded, then took a sip of the new glass of water the waitress had brought. How long had they been at the diner anyway? Darkness had fallen, and many customers had come and gone.
It seemed that Bob noticed the same thing at the same moment. His gaze moved to the dark windows, then back to her. “Do you have to get home right away, or are you interested in a walk about town?”
She didn’t have to get home right away, but he’d given her the perfect out. She didn’t want an out though. Bob had intrigued her tonight, more than she’d thought possible. She realized she wasn’t quite ready for their date to end. “I’d love to take a walk.”
Chapter Fourteen
“The attraction of women to aviation was a strong one, for no activity better symbolized the freedom and power which was lacking in their daily lives. As pilots women experienced feelings of strength, mastery, and confidence which, particularly at a time when Victorian norms still rendered all strenuous effort and most public activity by women suspect, seemed delicious indeed.”
—Joseph J. Corn, The Winged Gospel
May 1934—New York City
Nancy awakened much earlier than the singing sparrows that loved their apartment building, which gave her uninterrupted silence to go over the many conversations she’d had with Bob the night before. His childhood had been so different from hers. His family had followed the old British tradition of sending their son away to boarding school. At the age of eight.
She imagined a small, redheaded boy clinging to his mother’s hand as she’d walked him into the St. Paul’s boarding school in New York City.
“I cried myself to sleep for a year and half,” Bob had told her.
Nancy’s eyes had budded with tears, but she didn’t think Bob had noticed. They’d been walking along one of the avenues, with only the benevolent moon and glittering stars to light the way. Nancy had quickly blinked back the tears and listened as he’d told her about his next school—Lawrenceville Prep, in New Jersey. That was followed by entering Princeton in 1927.
Nancy turned over in her bed and gazed out the window. She’d left the drapes open, and the pale gray of the sky had changed to lavender.
She’d asked Bob when he’d first flown, and he’d known the exact date. “April 10, 1929. My first flight was only twenty minutes, but I was hooked.”
Nancy had laughed because she could relate. She’d told him about the barnstormer and borrowing money from her brother.
“Stunts might have scared me off,” Bob had commented.
“Probably not.”
“Probably not,” he’d agreed. “I’m impressed you soloed so fast. Took me a couple of weeks. It was April 29, and I had seven hours of dual instruction in a 1928 OX-5 American Eagle.”
As the sky lightened beyond her window and the sparrows began their song, Nancy imagined a young, gangly Bob Love earning his pilot’s license out of Roosevelt Field. The same airfield she’d spent most of her time at in New York before he’d hired her. And the same airfield from which Charles Lindbergh had begun his famous transatlantic flight.
Aviation had taken over Bob’s heart and mind, just like hers, and he’d said, “It was almost four years to the day when I flew for the first time that I opened Inter City.”
“In April 1933?” she’d clarified, impressed. “You don’t waste much time, Mr. Love.”
He’d replied with a wink. “I don’t like wasting time, Miss Harkness.”
She’d certainly learned that upon her very first meeting with him. Bob Love wasn’t late, and he didn’t waste time, so she assumed that meant their date last night had been time well-spent?
She wouldn’t ask him, of course. But that also reminded her that he’d be at her place in an hour. He was picking her up, and they’d fly back to Boston together to work the rest of the weekend. Nancy climbed out of bed. She planned to be gone before her roommates awakened. They’d surely pester her with questions, and she kind of relished having her date and all the things they’d said kept between the two of them for now.
Her plan was thwarted, though, because when she was cutting up a banana to put on toast for breakfast, Susie came into the kitchen, yawning.
“Oh, you were out late,” Susie said, her voice raspy with sleep.
“Not that late,” Nancy said. “Bob got me home before midnight.”
“Of course he did,” Susie teased. “Gentleman and all.”
Nancy smashed the banana onto her toast.
“I don’t know how you can stand that stuff.” Susie pulled a jar of orange juice from the icebox and filled two glasses.
Nancy shrugged and swallowed down some orange juice Susie had handed her.
Susie carried her juice to the window, where she paused, the cup poised in her hand. “Well, blow my wig. There’s a limousine in front of our building.”
“What?” Nancy crossed to the window. Sure enough, parked at the curb sat a limo, and climbing out of the rear door was Bob Love.
He wasn’t wearing a suit this time, but he had on khaki pants and a flight jacket. And he’d arrived early.
“Tommy, get in here,” Susie called. “You’ve got to see this.”
“Hush,” Nancy said. “Bob doesn’t need to be gawked at by you girls again. And don’t say a word about the limo.”
Nancy might be ordering her roommate around, but she was curious herself. Did Bob take limos frequently? She remembered him talking about a chauffeur’s son in his childhood.
She’d reached the door by the time he knocked, so she opened it a crack. The sun had peeked over the horizon behind him, making everything a burnished gold. Bob’s collar stood open, which meant he had no plans for a tie. He might not be as dressed up as last night, but his casualness was deceptive. She knew enough about him now to know that his button-down shirt and pants were top quality.
“Can you give me a minute and also wait outside?” she asked.
“I’m early, I guess.”
“One minute.” She shut the door and was met by a grinning Susie.
Tommy appeared from the hallway, her eyes half open. “What’s going on?”
“There’s a limo outside,” Susie said. “That’s what’s going on.”
“Don’t open the door,” Nancy told Tommy as she rushed to the front window.
“Why can’t I open the door?” Tommy asked.
Nancy ignored her roommates as she gathered her bag and did a double-check of her appearance in the bathroom mirror. She already wore her breeches and flight jacket, and her bag contained extra clothing to change into later, after work at Inter City.
When she reached the front room again, her roommates were making no secret of openly gazing out the window at the limousine.
“Must have been a great date last night,” Tommy commented dryly.
“It was fine.”
Susie and Tommy both raised their brows, waiting for more.
Nancy gave an evasive shrug. “See you in a few days. I’ll fill you in then.”
“Holding you to it,” Tommy said with a wry smile.
Nancy tugged the front door open and stepped out into the growing morning light. “Sorry about that.”
Bob stood by the low wall, his arms folded as he surveyed the meager attempts of Susie’s flowering plants. “Nothing to worry about,” he said easily, lifting his blue gaze. “I was early. I hope I didn’t rush you.”
“No, I was ready, mostly. Just didn’t expect my roommates to be awake and peppering me with questions.”
Bob’s mouth lifted into a half-smile, and he reached for her bag. His hand brushed hers, and she relinquished the bag.
“Questions about what?” he asked.
Was he a morning person or something? He must be, because his morning voice was normal, cheerful, even. No tired lines about his eyes—his baby blues as clear as the morning sky.
“About our date.”
“Ah.” He chuckled, a warm sound that seemed to brush against her skin.
As they approached the limousine, the driver opened his door and stepped out.
“I’ve got it, Richard,” Bob called to him. “Nancy, this is Richard.”
“Hello,” she told the wiry man with a mustache and a black chauffeur cap. She guessed him to be in his fifties.
“Good morning, Miss Harkness. Nice to meet you.”
Bob popped the trunk of the limo and set her bag inside, then closed it. Next, he opened the rear door for her.
She slid inside, immediately enveloped in the scent of leather and cigars. She knew Bob didn’t smoke, but maybe the chauffeur did, or Bob’s father?
Bob climbed in on the other side, and Richard pulled away from the curb.
“How are you?” Bob asked, turning to look at her.
She should be used to his questions, but this morning, it felt different. He wasn’t being formal or polite. The sincerity of his words reached across the space between them.
“I’m a little surprised you showed up in a limo, but maybe I shouldn’t be? I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.”
His eyes glimmered with amusement. “Should I have warned you?”
“I made a good recovery.”
“It’s the family car, and I didn’t want to leave my car at the airport for someone else to have to pick up.”
“Makes sense.” Nancy smirked.
“What?”
“It’s just . . . you know, a limousine. And I’m a two-bit pilot trying to earn a few bucks because I can’t hack it in secretarial school. Which is nothing compared to Princeton or MIT or—”
Bob’s hand settled over hers, and she stopped all talk then.
“You’re not a two-bit anything, Nancy. You have the potential to be one of the finest pilots I’ve ever known. We all have to work our way up the chain—you’re just figuring out which chain that is.”
Nancy’s heart had lodged itself in her throat. And her pulse zoomed about like a trapped hummingbird. She studied his hand over hers—the light freckles and small tufts of pale-gold hair, but mostly, she noticed the strength and capability of his fingers. “Potential?”
“You’re a fine pilot now, but there’s a lot of aircraft out there to progress on. Women are making great strides in the industry.”
“I’m no Amelia Earhart.”
He barked a laugh. “I think she’s one of a kind. But believe me, Nancy, you’re swell just the way you are.”
“Are you always this complimentary in the morning?” she asked.
Bob pretended to think about it for a moment, and laughter stirred inside Nancy. His hand remained on hers, too, and she didn’t mind in the least.
“I think I am, actually,” he said, as if this were the first time he’d ever considered it. “It’s too early for something to go wrong, so I’m not in a sour mood . . . yet.”
Nancy did laugh then, and Bob smiled, watching her. Which only made her heart do somersaults.
“Is this okay?” he asked in a quiet voice, his hand gently squeezing hers.
She knew he referred to his hand on hers, and surprisingly, it was okay. Yet she wasn’t sure what it all meant—to him. Or what it should mean—to her. For a second, her words wouldn’t come, then she finally said, “I think so.”
His brows rose. “That’s a start, I suppose.”
She gave him a half-smile now. “Do you take all your employees out to dinner, followed by limo rides at dawn?”
His gaze was more sincere than she’d ever seen it. “No, never.”
His words tugged the breath from her chest, but she played down the emotions rocking through her. “Oh, that’s good, I guess.”
“Nancy . . . I like you. I’m sure you’ve concluded that by now.”
Well, she couldn’t help blushing now. “There have been signs, but I don’t always pay attention to signs since I’m too busy trying to figure out when I can fly next.”
His expression relaxed. “I think that’s a good quality when it comes to other men . . . but with me, I’m hoping you understand that I want to get to know you more.”
Nancy smirked. “Is that why you asked me so many questions last night? I thought you were a journalist on the side, trying to write an exposé.”
“Not quite.” His thumb moved over her fingers.
She shouldn’t react with goose bumps, but she did. “I like you, too, Bob, most of the time. But I’m only twenty. Not interested in being tied down to anyone or anything.”
He didn’t seem taken aback. “Most of the time?”
Nancy shrugged. “You can be a pest, but in a good way, I suppose.”
Bob shook his head, but he was smiling. “How about this, Miss Harkness . . . You come work for Inter City full time. We’ll be around each other plenty. You can decide how tied down you want to be.”
“So, your brother left you to face the angry headmistress by yourself?”
“Yes, that was Robert Harkness for you. Always stirring up a storm, then slipping away.”
Bob turned his dessert spoon back and forth. He had yet to try the ice cream. “Henry told me a little bit about your brother. I’m sorry he died.”
Talking about her brother tonight had made her miss him all the more fiercely. She looked down with a hard blink. “He left a wife and two little boys,” she said in a quiet voice. “He was only twenty-five but was always a daredevil. Couldn’t resist a race or challenge.”
“It sounds like he lived a full life, on his terms, even though it was cut short.” Bob set his spoon down, ice cream still untouched. “Some people never achieve their dreams. They wake up one day and discover they’ve lived decades without finding joy.”
“Yes.” She hadn’t thought of it like that before, and it was strangely comforting. Her brother had always gone after his passions, taking them to the extreme sometimes but finding joy in every corner of his life. “My parents also lost two little girls at birth—born before either of us—Gertrude and Hanna.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Bob said, subdued. “When I was ten years old, my older brother, John, died.”
Nancy blinked. “Oh, I didn’t know that.”
“He was born an invalid,” Bob continued, his voice dropping low. “Had a lot of health problems, so I guess it wasn’t a big shock, like your brother’s unexpected death. John was in his early twenties.”
She tried to imagine how it would be to have a sibling who was an invalid. The constant worry. The never-ending medical care. “Still, I’m sure it devastated everyone.”
“Yes.”
Nancy reached over and grasped his hand. “I’m really sorry, Bob. I know how big that hole can be.”
He looked at her hand on his, then he turned his hand over and linked their fingers.
She didn’t see it as romantic though—they were sharing their similar grief—so, then, why was her heart banging about? After a moment, she pulled her hand away, and he released it easily.
“What about other siblings?” she asked.
Bob’s face shifted into something lighter. “Ah, my older sister, Margaret. She’s eight years older than me, but she acts like my mother most of the time.”
“She sounds delightfully bossy.”
“Yes, she was, and still is.” Bob finally took a bite of his half-melted ice cream. “She was pretty much my full-time nurse when I was about seven and contracted polio soon after my brother’s death.”
Nancy brought a hand to her mouth, staring at Bob. His life had not been easy. Her preconceived judgments of a privileged childhood took a hard right turn. Could wealth really soften the blow of a lost brother and a dire case of polio? This man had many more layers than she’d first thought. “Oh no, that must have been terrible.”
He gave a small nod of acknowledgment. “It was compounded because the day before I found out I had polio, our chauffeur’s son died from it.”
She shook her head, trying to imagine so many tragedies at the same time. “But you recovered?”
“Due to Margaret’s constant care. That, and my dad convincing a doctor to experiment and use me as a lab rat.”
“What? How?”
Bob’s shrug was nonchalant. “I guess there were experiments that were comprised of taking blood from polio survivors and injecting that serum into someone currently suffering polio.”
“And . . . they injected serum into you?”
“Correct. Right into my spine. Paralyzed me for a while.”
“Bob . . . I can’t imagine.”
The corners of his mouth curved upward, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Rough time all the way around. But . . . I recovered fully. I only limp when I’ve had an exhausting day. Modern medicine is a miracle, isn’t it?”
Nancy exhaled slowly. “It is, yet that’s still a lot to take in.”
He leaned back in his chair, arms folded. “Sorry about the heavy stuff. My sister likes to remind me from time to time that I owe her my life—all that babying she did.”
The things he’d confessed were remarkable, truly remarkable. “She sounds like the best sister, even if she wants all the accolades. I think she deserves them.” Nancy smiled. “I always wished I had a sister, but I guess nosy roommates will have to do.”
Bob released a chuckle, and Nancy was grateful the seriousness of the conversation had eased.
“Well, Margaret would be happy to meet you anytime.”
Nancy didn’t know what she thought of that comment. Had he told his sister about her—or told his parents?
“Henry told me a little about that accident you were in with John Miller—and how you got the gray streak in your hair.”
Nancy absently touched the part of her hair that persistently stayed gray. “Yes, it’s quite the thing. I’ve stumped all doctors.” Bob smiled. She quite liked his smile. “Poor John, he ended up with pretty good scars. So, I guess we both have reminders.”
“Well, I’m glad you both pulled through.”
She nodded, then took a sip of the new glass of water the waitress had brought. How long had they been at the diner anyway? Darkness had fallen, and many customers had come and gone.
It seemed that Bob noticed the same thing at the same moment. His gaze moved to the dark windows, then back to her. “Do you have to get home right away, or are you interested in a walk about town?”
She didn’t have to get home right away, but he’d given her the perfect out. She didn’t want an out though. Bob had intrigued her tonight, more than she’d thought possible. She realized she wasn’t quite ready for their date to end. “I’d love to take a walk.”
Chapter Fourteen
“The attraction of women to aviation was a strong one, for no activity better symbolized the freedom and power which was lacking in their daily lives. As pilots women experienced feelings of strength, mastery, and confidence which, particularly at a time when Victorian norms still rendered all strenuous effort and most public activity by women suspect, seemed delicious indeed.”
—Joseph J. Corn, The Winged Gospel
May 1934—New York City
Nancy awakened much earlier than the singing sparrows that loved their apartment building, which gave her uninterrupted silence to go over the many conversations she’d had with Bob the night before. His childhood had been so different from hers. His family had followed the old British tradition of sending their son away to boarding school. At the age of eight.
She imagined a small, redheaded boy clinging to his mother’s hand as she’d walked him into the St. Paul’s boarding school in New York City.
“I cried myself to sleep for a year and half,” Bob had told her.
Nancy’s eyes had budded with tears, but she didn’t think Bob had noticed. They’d been walking along one of the avenues, with only the benevolent moon and glittering stars to light the way. Nancy had quickly blinked back the tears and listened as he’d told her about his next school—Lawrenceville Prep, in New Jersey. That was followed by entering Princeton in 1927.
Nancy turned over in her bed and gazed out the window. She’d left the drapes open, and the pale gray of the sky had changed to lavender.
She’d asked Bob when he’d first flown, and he’d known the exact date. “April 10, 1929. My first flight was only twenty minutes, but I was hooked.”
Nancy had laughed because she could relate. She’d told him about the barnstormer and borrowing money from her brother.
“Stunts might have scared me off,” Bob had commented.
“Probably not.”
“Probably not,” he’d agreed. “I’m impressed you soloed so fast. Took me a couple of weeks. It was April 29, and I had seven hours of dual instruction in a 1928 OX-5 American Eagle.”
As the sky lightened beyond her window and the sparrows began their song, Nancy imagined a young, gangly Bob Love earning his pilot’s license out of Roosevelt Field. The same airfield she’d spent most of her time at in New York before he’d hired her. And the same airfield from which Charles Lindbergh had begun his famous transatlantic flight.
Aviation had taken over Bob’s heart and mind, just like hers, and he’d said, “It was almost four years to the day when I flew for the first time that I opened Inter City.”
“In April 1933?” she’d clarified, impressed. “You don’t waste much time, Mr. Love.”
He’d replied with a wink. “I don’t like wasting time, Miss Harkness.”
She’d certainly learned that upon her very first meeting with him. Bob Love wasn’t late, and he didn’t waste time, so she assumed that meant their date last night had been time well-spent?
She wouldn’t ask him, of course. But that also reminded her that he’d be at her place in an hour. He was picking her up, and they’d fly back to Boston together to work the rest of the weekend. Nancy climbed out of bed. She planned to be gone before her roommates awakened. They’d surely pester her with questions, and she kind of relished having her date and all the things they’d said kept between the two of them for now.
Her plan was thwarted, though, because when she was cutting up a banana to put on toast for breakfast, Susie came into the kitchen, yawning.
“Oh, you were out late,” Susie said, her voice raspy with sleep.
“Not that late,” Nancy said. “Bob got me home before midnight.”
“Of course he did,” Susie teased. “Gentleman and all.”
Nancy smashed the banana onto her toast.
“I don’t know how you can stand that stuff.” Susie pulled a jar of orange juice from the icebox and filled two glasses.
Nancy shrugged and swallowed down some orange juice Susie had handed her.
Susie carried her juice to the window, where she paused, the cup poised in her hand. “Well, blow my wig. There’s a limousine in front of our building.”
“What?” Nancy crossed to the window. Sure enough, parked at the curb sat a limo, and climbing out of the rear door was Bob Love.
He wasn’t wearing a suit this time, but he had on khaki pants and a flight jacket. And he’d arrived early.
“Tommy, get in here,” Susie called. “You’ve got to see this.”
“Hush,” Nancy said. “Bob doesn’t need to be gawked at by you girls again. And don’t say a word about the limo.”
Nancy might be ordering her roommate around, but she was curious herself. Did Bob take limos frequently? She remembered him talking about a chauffeur’s son in his childhood.
She’d reached the door by the time he knocked, so she opened it a crack. The sun had peeked over the horizon behind him, making everything a burnished gold. Bob’s collar stood open, which meant he had no plans for a tie. He might not be as dressed up as last night, but his casualness was deceptive. She knew enough about him now to know that his button-down shirt and pants were top quality.
“Can you give me a minute and also wait outside?” she asked.
“I’m early, I guess.”
“One minute.” She shut the door and was met by a grinning Susie.
Tommy appeared from the hallway, her eyes half open. “What’s going on?”
“There’s a limo outside,” Susie said. “That’s what’s going on.”
“Don’t open the door,” Nancy told Tommy as she rushed to the front window.
“Why can’t I open the door?” Tommy asked.
Nancy ignored her roommates as she gathered her bag and did a double-check of her appearance in the bathroom mirror. She already wore her breeches and flight jacket, and her bag contained extra clothing to change into later, after work at Inter City.
When she reached the front room again, her roommates were making no secret of openly gazing out the window at the limousine.
“Must have been a great date last night,” Tommy commented dryly.
“It was fine.”
Susie and Tommy both raised their brows, waiting for more.
Nancy gave an evasive shrug. “See you in a few days. I’ll fill you in then.”
“Holding you to it,” Tommy said with a wry smile.
Nancy tugged the front door open and stepped out into the growing morning light. “Sorry about that.”
Bob stood by the low wall, his arms folded as he surveyed the meager attempts of Susie’s flowering plants. “Nothing to worry about,” he said easily, lifting his blue gaze. “I was early. I hope I didn’t rush you.”
“No, I was ready, mostly. Just didn’t expect my roommates to be awake and peppering me with questions.”
Bob’s mouth lifted into a half-smile, and he reached for her bag. His hand brushed hers, and she relinquished the bag.
“Questions about what?” he asked.
Was he a morning person or something? He must be, because his morning voice was normal, cheerful, even. No tired lines about his eyes—his baby blues as clear as the morning sky.
“About our date.”
“Ah.” He chuckled, a warm sound that seemed to brush against her skin.
As they approached the limousine, the driver opened his door and stepped out.
“I’ve got it, Richard,” Bob called to him. “Nancy, this is Richard.”
“Hello,” she told the wiry man with a mustache and a black chauffeur cap. She guessed him to be in his fifties.
“Good morning, Miss Harkness. Nice to meet you.”
Bob popped the trunk of the limo and set her bag inside, then closed it. Next, he opened the rear door for her.
She slid inside, immediately enveloped in the scent of leather and cigars. She knew Bob didn’t smoke, but maybe the chauffeur did, or Bob’s father?
Bob climbed in on the other side, and Richard pulled away from the curb.
“How are you?” Bob asked, turning to look at her.
She should be used to his questions, but this morning, it felt different. He wasn’t being formal or polite. The sincerity of his words reached across the space between them.
“I’m a little surprised you showed up in a limo, but maybe I shouldn’t be? I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.”
His eyes glimmered with amusement. “Should I have warned you?”
“I made a good recovery.”
“It’s the family car, and I didn’t want to leave my car at the airport for someone else to have to pick up.”
“Makes sense.” Nancy smirked.
“What?”
“It’s just . . . you know, a limousine. And I’m a two-bit pilot trying to earn a few bucks because I can’t hack it in secretarial school. Which is nothing compared to Princeton or MIT or—”
Bob’s hand settled over hers, and she stopped all talk then.
“You’re not a two-bit anything, Nancy. You have the potential to be one of the finest pilots I’ve ever known. We all have to work our way up the chain—you’re just figuring out which chain that is.”
Nancy’s heart had lodged itself in her throat. And her pulse zoomed about like a trapped hummingbird. She studied his hand over hers—the light freckles and small tufts of pale-gold hair, but mostly, she noticed the strength and capability of his fingers. “Potential?”
“You’re a fine pilot now, but there’s a lot of aircraft out there to progress on. Women are making great strides in the industry.”
“I’m no Amelia Earhart.”
He barked a laugh. “I think she’s one of a kind. But believe me, Nancy, you’re swell just the way you are.”
“Are you always this complimentary in the morning?” she asked.
Bob pretended to think about it for a moment, and laughter stirred inside Nancy. His hand remained on hers, too, and she didn’t mind in the least.
“I think I am, actually,” he said, as if this were the first time he’d ever considered it. “It’s too early for something to go wrong, so I’m not in a sour mood . . . yet.”
Nancy did laugh then, and Bob smiled, watching her. Which only made her heart do somersaults.
“Is this okay?” he asked in a quiet voice, his hand gently squeezing hers.
She knew he referred to his hand on hers, and surprisingly, it was okay. Yet she wasn’t sure what it all meant—to him. Or what it should mean—to her. For a second, her words wouldn’t come, then she finally said, “I think so.”
His brows rose. “That’s a start, I suppose.”
She gave him a half-smile now. “Do you take all your employees out to dinner, followed by limo rides at dawn?”
His gaze was more sincere than she’d ever seen it. “No, never.”
His words tugged the breath from her chest, but she played down the emotions rocking through her. “Oh, that’s good, I guess.”
“Nancy . . . I like you. I’m sure you’ve concluded that by now.”
Well, she couldn’t help blushing now. “There have been signs, but I don’t always pay attention to signs since I’m too busy trying to figure out when I can fly next.”
His expression relaxed. “I think that’s a good quality when it comes to other men . . . but with me, I’m hoping you understand that I want to get to know you more.”
Nancy smirked. “Is that why you asked me so many questions last night? I thought you were a journalist on the side, trying to write an exposé.”
“Not quite.” His thumb moved over her fingers.
She shouldn’t react with goose bumps, but she did. “I like you, too, Bob, most of the time. But I’m only twenty. Not interested in being tied down to anyone or anything.”
He didn’t seem taken aback. “Most of the time?”
Nancy shrugged. “You can be a pest, but in a good way, I suppose.”
Bob shook his head, but he was smiling. “How about this, Miss Harkness . . . You come work for Inter City full time. We’ll be around each other plenty. You can decide how tied down you want to be.”
