Spring 1928
Mittie would’ve slept in her new plane if she could have, feeling at once motherly and as possessive as a mama bear with her cub. Instead, she had the plane painted a creamy caramel color with black rimming the wings. On the side, in rich mahogany script, was the name she’d given it. Belle. Belle of the Skies. She thought the name had a nice ring to it, one of promise and enchantment.
Ames slipped back into her life, and Mittie wondered how she could have ever doubted him. And it was Ames who announced that a proper christening for Belle would be an air demonstration with the Patriots, who’d come out of winter hibernation. He scouted out a location across the river, and on a breezy day at the end of March, they did loops and stalls, end over end, flying in formation. Buster drew gasps from the onlookers with his ladder tricks and walking on air from the wing of one plane to another. The last two hours they gave airplane rides. When Mittie looked out across the sea of faces, her eyes connected with those of Bobby York. What a sly fox—sneaking in to see how she’d done in his plane. She waved to let him know she’d seen him, and when she looked again later, he was gone.
Back at Bowman Field, she and Ames headed to the canteen for a soft drink before servicing their planes and found Bobby sitting with a familiar-looking blonde. Bobby raised his chin in greeting, and the girl turned around. Calista Gilson.
Calista squealed and jumped up, gliding across the floor with open arms. “Ames! Kentucky!”
Mittie offered her hand and smiled. “Mittie, not Kentucky.”
Calista pressed her fingers to her lips. “Oops, I forgot.” She turned to Ames and puckered her cupid lips.
He gave her a peck on the cheek. “Hey, Peach. What are you doing here? Did you get separated from that wild bunch in Texas and lose your way?”
Mittie’s head snapped to attention. “You two saw each other in Texas?”
Calista nodded and fluffed her marcel-waved bob, but it was Ames’ question she answered. “I didn’t get lost. I left. Cheap rats wouldn’t pay me. I’m looking for a new gig and was hoping you and Lester might have something.”
Ames said, “I’m sure we could work something out. Anything special you had in mind?”
She dipped her chin, her pale gray eyes wide. “I’m game for anything you are.”
Ames looked around at the group. “What say we all get some grub and talk things over with Peach? The Hen’s Nest okay?”
Calista linked arms with Bobby. “Do you still have that darling little foreign car?”
Bobby nodded. “If you mean the Morris, yes. Not that I consider it foreign, mind you.”
Mittie said she’d meet them there, that she’d like to run by her cousin Nell’s and change.
Calista winked. “I could teach you a few tricks about living out of a suitcase.”
“Looks like it worked for you.” She eyed Calista’s pale lemon dress that hugged her like a second skin. “I’ll only be a few minutes.” What she really needed was a bath, a hairdresser, and a trip to a New York salon, and even then, she’d be dowdy next to Calista.
Ames gave her a quick hug. “Don’t be too long. I’m starving.”
An hour later, they were all crowded around a small table while Calista regaled them with a story about her close encounter with a jellyfish at the beach in Galveston. “Tell them, Ames, about the baby shark you caught.”
Mittie’s breath caught. “What am I missing here? Obviously, you two crossed paths in Texas, but you went to the beach?” Together?
Calista laughed. “Oh, didn’t Ames tell you? He flew with us down by Houston. How do you think he got that gorgeous tan?”
“I see.” Only she didn’t. And she didn’t like the jealous feeling creeping through her brought on by the familiarity between Ames and Calista.
Calista laughed. “It wasn’t like we went alone, if that’s what you’re worried about. A whole swarm of us went together. At least the cheapskates I was with paid for my bus ticket and bought my lunch that day.”
On the tiny stage, a combo was warming up with screechy brass sounds and off-key thrums on the bass—sounds that matched the medley in Mittie’s chest.
Mittie had never given in to petty jealousy like some of the girls she’d known, and even now it irritated her that she’d given in to the feeling. Ames was free to go to Texas or Mars without her permission. And they’d parted at odds in Nebraska, so why did Calista feel like a burr in her britches?
When Ames walked her to her car later, he told her nothing went on between him and Calista. “Peach is like a lost puppy trying to find her place in the world.”
“She’s just so friendly. And chatty. I suppose I should be more hospitable. Gracious, as we say in the South.”
“I think Peach could use a friend.”
“If she’s still here when I get back from San Francisco, I’ll invite her out to the house. Maybe ask you and Bobby, too.”
Ames drew her in his arms. “I’m going to miss you like the devil.”
“You’re welcome to come along.”
“Thanks, but the Patriots are counting on me.”
And Calista. But Mittie didn’t mention it.
Mittie’s parents wired that they’d arrived safely in London and were looking forward to hearing the results of the horse show in San Francisco.
On the train ride, Mittie and her grandmother coaxed Rex Kline and one of the horse owners into playing canasta. It didn’t take much arm-twisting with Rex, who Mittie suspected was smitten with her grandmother.
That night in their Pullman compartment, Mittie teased her. “I saw the way Rex kept looking at you with a twinkle in his eyes.”
Her grandmother didn’t even blush. “Lord-a-mercy, at my age, I’m happy for every breath, so if the man wants to flirt with me, I’m not going to stop him.”
“So it wasn’t my imagination.”
Her grandmother’s laugh was deep and throaty. “I’ve known Rex half my life. He and his wife went to dinner with your grandfather and me at many a horse show. If you’d been paying attention, you’d have noticed that he comes over and eats supper with me practically every night.”
“Really? Do Mother and Daddy know this?”
“I suspect that’s why they wanted you to come along on this trip—to chaperone us.”
“And all this time, I thought it was so you could keep me out of trouble.”
“I gave up on that long ago, sweetheart.” She pulled a hairnet over her silver hair. “I just hope your young man knows what he’s getting himself into.”
“If you’re referring to Ames, he’s not my young man. I have worlds of things I want to do and accomplish before I settle into a serious relationship.”
A furrow creased the space between her carefully shaped brows. “You’re not playing with his affections under false pretenses, I hope.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ames is accomplished and has connections that will help further your career, I would assume.”
“And you think I’m using him—is that it?”
“It’s crossed my mind.” Her grandmother dipped her fingers in a tin of cold cream and smoothed it over her soft-lined face. “I remember you coming back from New York and the caper you had flying with him.”
“I know. Everyone thought it was just Mittie being wild, the way I always was, but I think it was meant to be, that I was meant to find Ames.”
Her grandmother studied an age spot on the back of her hand. “If that’s the case, then I’m sure everything will work out and you’ll forgive your old grandmother for fretting. It’s not just your parents who worry, you know.”
“Trust me—there’s nothing to worry about.”
Mittie stared at the ceiling long after her grandmother’s soft snores filled the compartment. Was it possible that subconsciously she was using Ames for her own selfish aspirations? That she leaned on him to satisfy her hunger to learn and do and be all the things she dreamed of? Bobby York flickered in her thoughts. He’d been as much a part of her accomplishment as Ames, but it was Ames who accelerated her heart, made her weak in the knees with his kisses, and brought out the she-bear claws when Calista danced into the picture.
Her fingers went to the locket between her breasts, the smooth gold on the back, the slightly textured surface on the front. She drifted off and dreamed of looking across the supper table at Ames when their faces were creased with wrinkles and their hair had turned to silver.
At the horse show the next morning, Gypsy took first in the four-year-old class prancing and showing with confidence. She’d matured in the past year, and her performance earned her place in the five-gait championship the following afternoon. When the championship winners were announced, Mittie’s heart was in her throat. Gypsy finished a remarkable second. Rex Kline said it called for a night on the town.
They feasted on dim sum at the Hang Ah Tea Room, tucked in an alley of Chinatown, and afterward chugged up the hill to take the cable car to the Columbia Theater. The silent film Wings, a wartime story featuring two pilots and the lovely Clara Bow, was showing with a full orchestra to add to the drama. Mittie dotted tears from the corners of her eyes when the credits blinked in black and white on the screen. If she could have, she would’ve sat through the whole movie again, but it was late, and they had an early train.
When they’d settled in the cab to return to their hotel, Rex took her grandmother’s knobby hand in his. A perfect ending to a lovely trip. Mittie hoped that Gypsy’s excellent work in the ring was the harbinger of things to come when Mittie took to the air.
Mittie gave her parents a report on the San Francisco show when they returned from London. Her daddy laughed and asked if Grandmother had behaved herself.
“Sweet as a lamb.” She gave him a knowing wink.
“And you? What have you been up to?”
“Staying close to the stables, flying some, and going out with Ames and the Patriots in the evenings. We have a demonstration coming up the first of June, and Bobby got word about a ladies’ altitude challenge in Little Rock. He thinks I’ll qualify for the international license by then.”
Her mother opened her mouth to say something, then paused. Her mouth widened into a smile. “It sounds wonderful, dear. I know you’ll have a marvelous time.”
Mittie’s jaw slackened. “I expected another lecture on the perils of flying and not getting myself killed.”
“Ordinarily, you would have been right to assume that, but I had quite an enlightening conversation when we were in London.”
“Do tell.” She looked at her daddy who shrugged as if he knew nothing.
“A wise gentleman told me that if you held a budgie in your hand too tightly, you would kill it, but if you release it and it flies away, it was never yours to begin with. If it comes back, you’ve a friend for life.”
“That’s lovely…and so poetic. Who was this wise man?”
“Robert York.”
“Bobby’s dad? I didn’t know you saw him.”
“We had a lovely dinner.”
It was no mystery who Robert York was talking about. She wondered if he and Bobby had argued over his choice of aviation and that his dad was hopeful that Bobby would return and do something more to his liking. A spidery thread tingled along her spine, a realization that his father’s gain would be a great loss to her.
Her daddy cleared his throat. “Good man, Robert York. So where is this demonstration you mentioned?”
“Memphis.”
“Sarah, we’ve not been to Memphis in a while. Why don’t we go and find out what all the fuss is about?”
Her mother put her hand to her chest. “Now darlin’, let’s not get carried away.”