Page 79 of Plane Passion

There was no denying that. He’d barely been able to eat since that awful conversation with Millie. Try as he might to stop thinking about it, he couldn’t. It kept replaying in his mind as he tried to put himself back together. The whole call last three minutes, and bam! He lost the woman he loved and the job he’d put his heart and soul into. How had he gone so quickly from being the happiest he’d ever been to being so miserable everything he ate tasted like ash?

“I eat when I’m out. I’m not hungry when I get home.” He didn’t, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Liar.” She always did see through him far too easily. “Now, go take your shower, put on some clean clothes, and go out on the town with your best friend. It’ll do you good.” She made a shooing motion with her hands.

In that moment, Constance looked so much like Mom, he almost laughed. “Whatever you say, sis.”

He started to climb the stairs.

“And eat something while you’re out, will ya?”

Pausing, he turned to look at her. She stood at the base of the stairs with her hands on her hips and a stern expression on her face, only increasing the resemblance. “You’re skin and bones.”

A chuckle bubbled up inside him and escaped. It was his first real laugh in a long time. “Aye, aye, captain!” He gave her a silly salute with extra flourishes, and she smiled and shook her head.

Good. He’d cheered her up, and maybe he’d cheered himself up a bit too. It had been far too long since he’d laughed.

He grabbed a clean set of clothes from his room and headed to the bathroom. As he showered, he mostly managed to keep his thoughts in check. He needed a plan for the future—one that didn’t involve Millie or the airmail. Most of all, he wanted to get back to flying. Construction was fine to pass the time and tide the family over, but he was a pilot for God’s sake. There had to be some way to get back up in the air.

Should he have a go at barnstorming? No. That only made him think of Millie. And besides, where would he get an airplane? Old army cast-offs were cheap, but not cheap enough for his non-existent budget.

Maybe he should reach out to Hawley to see if he could put in a good word with Mr. Curtiss about him. It had been ages since he’d seen Hawley. Ever since little Tabitha came along, Hawley had been too busy to go out much. But surely, he’d help an old friend in need.

He dried off and dressed with brisk efficiency, trying not to envy Hawley’s comfortable circumstances and domestic bliss. His friend had been through the wringer with that awful accident before he married Miss Belmont. He deserved every bit of happiness he'd found since.

Ernie looked at himself in the mirror. There wasn’t much he could do about the dark circles under his eyes or the new hollows under his cheeks, but he’d have to make the best of things.

The doorbell rang just as Ernie finished combing and pomading his hair. Though he took the steps two at a time, he didn’t manage to beat Constance to the door.

“Hiya, Jack,” he said a little too loudly as he bounded toward the door, interrupting a tête-à-tête in hushed tones.

They both turned worried gazes toward him. So, they’d been talking about him. Wonderful.

“Why are you two looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” Jack said, all innocence as he took a quick step back from Constance.

“Like I’ve recently contracted the Spanish flu, and you don’t want to tell me.”

Constance huffed. “We’re just worried about you is all. Now, go out and have a good time. You deserve a break.”

He didn’t. Not after he’d ruined his family’s fortunes over nothing. But the only way to appease them was to comply. “I’m going. I’m going.”

He held up his hands in surrender and pulled his coat and hat from the stand in the vestibule, putting them on.

Easing out the door under Constance’s censorious gaze, he headed down the front steps, enjoying the invigorating shock of winter air. Jack followed close behind. As soon as the door closed behind them, Jack turned toward him and gave him a friendly elbow in the side. “Hiya, Ernie. It’s good to see you at long last. You look like shit.”

“Gee thanks.” Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he strode down the street toward Frankie’s Pub, their usual watering hole. He couldn’t have changed that much, could he? It had only been a month. “You know, you didn’t look so great yourself after the breakup with Myrtle.”

He’d probably regret bringing up Jack’s former fiancée, but who was Jack to judge? They all went through rough patches from time to time. That was life. If Ernie looked a little worse for wear, so what? Did Jack have to rub his face in it?

“Touché, my friend.” Jack shrugged.

They started to cross the street, and a delivery truck came barreling toward them out of nowhere. Its brakes screeched as it ground to a halt just in time, making Ernie’s heart pound.

Jack, banged on the hood. “Hey, I’m walkin’ here!”

The driver rolled down the window and leaned out. “Sorry, mister. Didn’t see you there.”