Page 90 of Plane Passion

“Good. Well, good day to you, Miss Aldrich. Report to Mr. Dickson on Tuesday morning. Don’t be late.”

Hanging up the phone, she could hardly believe what she’d just heard. She turned her wondering gaze slowly to Beth who was staring at her as if she grew another head.

“The airmail is taking me back,” Millie said in a breathy voice as she stood up. “The airmail is taking me back,” she squealed and then whirled around in a ridiculous victory dance. “I’m back! I’m back! I’m back!”

Beth glared. “This is far too much exuberance before I’ve finished my coffee.”

“Sorry.” Millie burst into giggles and tried to stifle them. “Sorry.”

She had her job back! How was this even possible?

Ernie.

He believed in her enough to put himself on the line for her, despite the risk to himself. After all the work she put into getting him his job back, he wouldn’t do it without her.

Now she really couldn’t wait to see him. What time was it?

Nine fifteen. Ugh. This day was going too slowly.

“Beth, I need your help. Somehow, I need to keep my sanity until this evening.”

She sat down next to Beth and looked at her with pleading eyes.

Rolling her eyes, Beth said, “Fine. I’ll cancel tennis practice. I’m not feeling up to it today anyway. We’ll go to the spa and then go shopping. You need a new outfit for this.”

“But I have one picked out,” Millie objected.

“Show me.”

Millie marched into her room and gestured toward the outfit laid out on her bed.

“I suppose that could do in a pinch,” said Beth dubiously, “but I think we can do better. Let’s head out. I know how long it takes you to pick things, and I’ll need at least an hour to do your hair.”

“You’re a doll, Beth. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“No, you don’t, darling. And don’t forget it.”

An hour later, they were ensconced in the bright elegance of Elizabeth Arden’s Salon d’Oro. They lounged in specially designed chairs that leaned back for facial treatments. Each station had a vanity in front of it, covered with more bottles than Millie could count. They sat with white towels wrapped around their heads, wearing white robes as attendants massaged their faces with creams and unguents. It was the Venetian something-or-other treatment. Beth said it worked miracles.

“I must admit this is a vast improvement on tennis practice,” Beth murmured, eyes closed. “Thank you for giving me the excuse.”

“Happy to oblige.”

“Though I suppose I should be thanking Ernie, not you. After all, he’s the reason we’re here. Where are you two meeting anyway?”

The attendant was doing something particularly delicious to her jaw muscles, and it took her a moment to respond.

“We’re going ice skating in Central Park.”

Beth laughed. “Could you two possibly be more disgustingly adorable?”

“We do aim to be revolting. Glad to know we’ve succeeded.”

For several moments, Beth was silent. “What are you going to do without me when you and he tie the knot? Who’s going to do your hair and tell you what to wear?”

Smiling, Millie answered, “I don’t think you have to worry about that any time soon.”

“I beg to differ. In fact, I bet you’ll come home tonight with an engagement ring on your finger.”