Page 13 of Plane Passion

“Now, back to Europe,” Gertie said as soon as he was gone. “What’s it like?”

It was hard to pay attention to the conversation. The room felt unnaturally hot. Was there a heater on?

“Beautiful,” Katherine said. “Everything is so much older there. The architecture is amazing, and the museums are to die for. They have some lovely countryside as well. My favorite place to fly was southern France. I was there when lavender was in bloom, and there were fields of purple everywhere.”

“Sounds magical,” Gertie said with a sigh.

“It was.”

Their drinks arrived, and Katherine held up her glass. “To lady pilots!”

“To lady pilots,” they all agreed as they clinked glasses.

Millie was quieter than usual for the rest of the meal, worried she’d say the wrong thing out loud.

Setting aside what Pritchard overheard, what did Vera overhear? She had no desire to see a nice girl like that fall prey to a no-good playboy.

The woman was still enthusing at the next table, playfully scolding Pritchard for failing to mention he worked with someone famous. Millie couldn’t quite hear Pritchard’s murmured replies, and it was driving her mad.

But she was here to see her friends, not Pritchard, so she wrenched her attention back to the conversation in front of her.

Katherine chattered away about her shows in Europe, eliciting oohs and aahs from Gertie. Millie didn’t begrudge her. Let Gertie think it’s a magical wonderland. They don’t need to know that Europe’s men looked down on women just as much as American men, if not more so. Her recollections from trips to the continent to put on air shows were not pleasant.

At last, their agonizing dinner was at an end, and they split the bill. Millie couldn’t help glancing back one last time at Pritchard. He was whispering something in Vera’s ear. Or perhaps he was surreptitiously nibbling on it? Vera’s cheeks flushed red. Something twisted inside Millie at the sight of their intimate pose.

Just as she was dragging her gaze away, his eyes flicked up and met hers. Why did she feel like the one who had been caught when he was the one toying with poor Vera?

She turned away quickly and hurried to put her coat on and follow her friends, who were already heading for the door. What a trainwreck. How would she face him in the morning?

Not ready to let the evening end, she and her friends headed down the street to a blissfully Ernie-free speakeasy Katherine knew. It was hidden behind a psychic’s shopfront. The woman directed patrons that knew the password through her back door. The jazz quartet wasn’t too loud, and the lighting was dim enough that they were unlikely to get recognized. It was the perfect place to relax and unwind with her girls and forget what happened at dinner.

Millie ordered a martini. She’d have to stick to just one drink for the night, given her flight plans for the next day, but she intended to savor it to the fullest.

“You weren’t lying. He was a looker,” Gertie said as they all settled in with their drinks. “I bet the ladies fall all over him.”

“So it seems,” Millie said, taking a sip of her drink. “He’s in for the shock of his life with me. I bet he’s never met a woman he couldn’t charm before.”

Her friends burst out laughing.

“What? What did I say?”

“Oh, he’s got you charmed, honey,” said Gertie. “We saw the way you looked at him.”

“No, I’m not!” She nearly spilled her martini and only saved it by taking a deep drink before it sloshed.

“I’m afraid you are,” said Katherine, looking over the rim of her Manhattan. “But he’s obviously terrified of you, so I doubt he noticed.”

“Good, he should be scared.” That martini was going straight to her head. She felt a familiar warmth as her muscles unwound and the world around her got softer. “I work hard to be a terror.”

Her friends laughed even harder. “Yes, you do,” said Gertie, slapping her knee. “So tell us what really happened with Barney. We saw what all the gossip rags said, but what’s the real story?”

Millie sighed. She’d hoped to escape without having to tell it, but there was no avoiding it now.

“For once, the papers had it right. One night while we were out at a restaurant, a woman I’d never met came up to Barney, obviously drunk, and threw her drink in his face, calling him a no-good two-timer. A photographer was lying in wait and caught the whole thing on camera. I ended our engagement then and there.”

Millie took a fortifying swallow of her drink.

“You know my agent, Stanley, right? He was livid when he heard,” she continued. “He had some choice words with Barney’s agent the next day. Of course, he immediately started talking up other celebrities I might step out with, but I told him I wouldn’t have it. I want to break records, not hang on the arm of some dull-as-dirt playboy. Fortunately, the airmail opportunity presented itself the very next day. Stanley agreed to let me have a go at flying the mail on the condition that I let him arrange a feature in the Times when I break my first record.”