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Plane Passion Copyright 2026 © Leslie Vollard

Cover design by Dar Albert at Wicked Smart Designs

Published by Oliver-Heber Books

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To women who make trouble. Without you, we’d be nowhere.

1

NEW JERSEY, 1920,

The fuel gauge read empty as Newark came into view, so Ernie nudged the plane higher. If he was going to have to land without engines, he wanted all the altitude he could get.

Stinging sweat dripped into his eyes beneath his goggles as he scoured the familiar landscape, looking past the wooden wings for the dirt airstrip. Triumph was within reach. He’d break the Chicago to New York record if he could just manage to land.

A brisk, autumn breeze was blowing, and he was grateful for the protection of the full-body, leather suit he wore. He’d heard a company in Europe was working on an airplane model with an enclosed cockpit. That sounded like heaven. Not that the Postal Service would ever spring for such luxury.

There was Heller Airport at last, sandwiched between a fireworks factory and a Tiffany jewelry factory. It was one of the worst airfields he’d ever had to land in. The runway was too short, and the surrounding buildings limited visibility. And yet he had never seen a more beautiful, welcoming sight.

His engine began to sputter.

Not now. Please not now.

The smell of hot metal and oil sharpened as his tired engine struggled.

“A few more minutes, sweetheart, and we’ll be home free,” he said in a soothing voice, patting the dash panel. With his other hand, he gripped the wood control stick, his knuckles white.

His heart pounded in his ears as he tilted the nose downward and began his descent. The change in angle sloshed some last remaining drops of fuel into the engine, which roared back to life, thank God!

“That’s it. Nice and easy,” he cooed as if the plane needed reassurance. Or maybe he was reassuring himself. This was cutting it far too close.

He coasted down, adjusting his heading, taking the most direct course he could. There would be no circling this time. He needed wheels on the ground as fast as he could manage. The smoke of the factories tickled his nose as he prayed he’d make it down in one piece.

An updraft jolted him. And then another. He steered his course, steady as possible.

The ground approached. His engine stuttered again. He cursed under his breath.

A sharp turn. A quick drop. Almost there…

Wheels touched dirt, and he let out a shuddering breath as he pulled hard on the elevators to slow down. It would have been downright embarrassing to end his flight in the dirt pile at the end of the runway—an all-too-common occurrence at this godawful airport.

Ernie leaned forward as the plane decelerated far too slowly for his liking. The dirt pile loomed as he ground to a halt at the last moment. Not his finest landing. But at least he was down in one piece.

And he’d done it. By God he’d battled through and broken the record from Chicago.

He sank back in his seat, and a rush of triumph cut through his exhaustion. People would have to sit up and take notice of Ernie Pritchard after this.

A crowd of jumpsuit clad pilots and mechanics rushed out of the hangar to surround the plane as he stood on stiff legs and climbed out of the cockpit.

“You did it, Pritchard! Congrats!”

“Seven hours and forty-three minutes! Amazing!”

“President Wilson should give you a medal!”

They crowded around to sing his praises, and he reveled in it. This was the biggest thing he’d ever achieved, and, tired as he was, he meant to enjoy his moment in the sun. They doffed their grease-stained caps and threw them in the air with a “Hip, hip, hooray!”

A reporter in a rumpled brown suit and straw hat snapped a photo as he descended from the plane. “How does it feel to break the 1918 Chicago to New York record?”

Hot dog! He was going to be in the papers!

“All in a day’s work.” Ernie flashed his most debonair smile. “I’m just doing my job delivering the mail.”

If Ernie was strutting a bit as they walked together to the hangar, he couldn’t help it. His crowd of well-wishers hung on every word, and it wasn’t every day a nobody from Brooklyn broke a world record.

“I see you’re flying a Curtiss R-4. Did you make any special modifications to it for this flight?”

Damned right he did. He’d always had a knack for fixing things, and he was particularly proud of the innovation that led to this flight. “I figured out how to increase the fuel capacity of the plane without adding to the overall weight so that it could make the full trip.”

“Say, that’s clever! Tell me how you did it.”

As he was about to launch into a detailed explanation, his boss had to ruin it all by stalking over with a deep frown on his face. So much for Ernie’s good mood.

This was supposed to be Ernie’s big day. Mr. Dickson was supposed to be proud of him for once. So why did the old man look like he’d bit into a lemon?

“And what does the Postal Service gain from today’s flight?” the reporter asked, oblivious.

Mr. Dickson cleared his throat and tugged the sleeves of his perfectly starched uniform. “I’ll answer that. If we can eliminate the stops between here and Chicago, we can get the mail delivered that much faster. At present, it takes a day and a half to send a letter from New York to Chicago. Flying direct, we could make deliveries the same day. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to Mr. Pritchard.”

He took Ernie by the elbow and pulled him away from the crowd toward the hangar. Why was Mr. Dickson dragging him off like a naughty child? Sure, he and Mr. Dickson didn’t always get along, but this flight was supposed to change that. After all, record setting was good for the airmail operation. Wasn’t Mr. Dickson always complaining that they needed some good publicity?

Ernie followed Mr. Dickson all the way to his office, and Mr. Dickson closed the door behind them. This wasn’t good. What had Ernie done wrong this time?

Sitting down across from his boss, Ernie looked around for some clue in the pristine white space decorated with an enormous American flag and an old poster from the Great War that said, Join the Air Service. Learn-Earn.

A newspaper rested on the desk with a headline that said, AVIATRIX AWES AUDIENCE IN ALBANY. Why was Mr. Dickson hanging onto a two-week-old newspaper, and why would Mr. Dickson be interested in the antics of an aviatrix?

“Congratulations on your new record, Pritchard. The Postal Service is proud.” He sure as hell didn’t sound proud.

“Thank you, sir.” He wanted to get out of his flight suit so badly, but he didn’t dare unbutton in current company.

Mr. Dickson’s frown deepened. “How are you feeling after the flight?”

“Fine, sir.” Truth be told, now that his initial burst of elation had worn off, he was exhausted, chilled, and starving after nearly eight hours in an open cockpit. He would kill for a cup of coffee, a sandwich, and a hot shower. But first, he had to escape whatever this was. If only Mr. Dickson would get on with it and tell him what was the matter.

“I called you in here because I have an assignment for you, and it comes from the top.”

That perked Ernie up. What was it? Another test flight where he could set another record? He brushed his blond hair out of his face to no avail. It was definitely time for a haircut.

“Our Postmaster General has decided it is time to have another try at letting a woman fly the mail.” Mr. Dickson leveled a steely gaze at him. “She’s asked to learn from the best, so I’ve assigned her to you.”

Ernie took a deep breath and let it out. Compliments from Mr. Dickson were rare as summer snowflakes, but this assignment was bad news. He sure hoped that reporter didn’t get wind of this, or it would replace his record-breaking flight on the front page.

“Is Katherine Stinson back?” Because that would have been especially awkward. It was her record he just broke.

Mr. Dickson arranged his pens in a neat row in front of him, his jaw clenching. Apparently, Mr. Dickson wasn’t any happier about this than he was.

“No. It’s Millie Aldrich this time,” Mr. Dickson said, pointing to the newspaper on his desk.

Millie Aldrich? The celebrity aviatrix whose face was splashed across his sisters’ favorite gossip rags? There was something about her sultry smile in the photos that stuck with him. He vaguely recalled a headline about her engagement to a film star falling apart.

Wonderful. He was going to be stuck with some jilted prima donna who thought she knew how to fly, and he’d bet his bottom dollar she was out to one-up him. He’d worked so hard to win this record, experimenting for months with fuel tank modifications, and here this woman was going to waltz in and steal his one modest moment of glory. His only hope was finding some way to talk her out of it.

“I know she does air shows, but has she ever done any distance flying? Does she have any idea how dangerous it is?”

Mr. Dickson tapped his pen. “I was hoping you could explain it to her. I can’t say no to a direct order from Burleson, but if she decides of her own volition…”

Ah. So it was Ernie’s job to dissuade her. Fine. He wasn’t about to let some puffed-up barnstormer rain on his parade. He just had to convince her it wasn’t worth gambling her life on a publicity stunt. That shouldn’t be too hard, should it?

“She’s in the breakroom,” Mr. Dickson said. “I thought you could introduce yourself and show her to her plane.”

“Here? Now?” Couldn’t this wait until after a shower and a bite to eat? Though maybe he could at least get some coffee.

“Now. She’s waiting.” A vein pulsed in Mr. Dickson’s temple.

Ernie didn’t dare argue. He stood and started for the door.

“Oh, and Pritchard?”

What did Mr. Dickson want now? Ernie paused and turned. “Yes?”

“I expect you and the boys to behave like gentlemen around her. No advances. No lewd comments. If I get the slightest hint of any hanky-panky, both she and whoever she’s fraternizing with will get the sack. Burleson’s orders. Understand?”

As if he needed the warning. “Loud and clear, Mr. Dickson.”

Millie Aldrich might have been a dish, but no woman was worth risking his job over.

They walked over to the breakroom, and Ernie scanned the whitewashed picnic tables and chairs for his new charge. No sign of her.

“Where is she?” The room was empty except for a young pilot with his back to them, studying the enormous blackboard covering one wall that displayed everyone’s flight schedules for the week ahead. Then the pilot turned.

Holy mackerel! It was her. She might have had a slim, boyish figure, but there was no mistaking the feminine contours of her face or the inviting pink bow of those lips.

Mr. Dickson cleared his throat. “Miss Aldrich, this is Mr. Pritchard. He’s the best pilot we have, and he’ll be showing you the ropes. Pritchard, Miss Aldrich.”

“Thank you. Nice to meet you, Pritchard.” Millie Aldrich held out her hand expectantly, standing there in tan canvas pants and brown leather jacket, her blonde hair peeking out of her aviator cap, goggles askew on the top of her head.

She was a devastatingly attractive woman despite her mannish attire. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining those gams in silk stockings and one of those nice short flapper-girl dresses like she wore in the magazine pictures. Steady now, Ernie. Remember what Mr. Dickson said about fraternization.

“A pleasure to meet you too, Miss Aldrich.” Ernie met her gaze, finding his tongue at last. She looked him straight in the eyes with an intensity that made him uneasy as he took her hand and shook it. Something sparked between them when their hands touched, though whether it was good or bad, he couldn’t say. Probably bad. This assignment had disaster written all over it.

Ernie straightened. “Thank you for the introduction, Mr. Dickson, I’ll take it from here.”

Mr. Dickson made a beeline for the door, leaving Ernie alone with her. Under other circumstances, he might have tried to charm her. But he couldn’t afford to get sidetracked. “Tell me, Miss Aldrich, how much experience do you have with distance flying?”

“A little,” she answered. “But not as much as I’d like. Mostly, I’ve flown in air shows and films.”

As if that was supposed to impress him. Ernie shook his head. “Distance flying isn’t like barnstorming. It requires different skills and more stamina. And most of the old rust buckets we fly are on the verge of falling apart. In this line of work, a mistake or malfunction can be deadly. Are you sure this is something you want to try?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, her lips a thin line. “Quite sure.”

So she was stubborn. This was going to be harder than he thought.

Letting out a long sigh, he poured himself a cup of coffee. He was far too tired for this nonsense.

“Come on.” He took a scalding sip and headed for the door. “Let me show you the planes.”

Dear God, the coffee was awful, but it least it lifted his brain fog. He led the way from the breakroom back to the hangar, trying to come up with better ways to dissuade her. Wending his way through the dozen or so airplanes in the cavernous space, he tried to ignore the curious gazes of the mechanics at work. Fortunately, the reporter was nowhere in sight.

He stopped beside the oldest, most beat-up plane they had in service, hoping it would make her nervous. “You know, flying the mail is a dangerous job. We fly long distances in all kinds of weather. It isn’t like barnstorming where you can call off for the day if conditions don’t look right.” It wasn’t a job for a dilettante or anyone in their right mind, really.

Fire flashed in her eyes. “And you think I’m not up to it.”

“No offense, Miss Aldrich, but I wouldn’t recommend this job to anyone, man or woman. Do you have any idea how often we go down? Fourteen people have died in the two years since service started. They’ve nicknamed us Uncle Sam’s Suicide Club.”

“Then why do you do it?”

Good question, but he wasn’t going to take the bait. “I love to fly. They pay me to do it, and no one shoots at me.”

“But you don’t think I should do it.”

Not if you’re just here to show me up. Of course, he couldn’t say that out loud.

His stomach growled, and he ignored it. “Miss Aldrich, these planes aren’t built for the distances we fly. I’d say my fuel runs out shy of my destination one out of five trips, and I end up landing in a farmer’s field without engines. And that’s if I’m lucky and haven’t had a mechanical failure. Our fleet is made up of army hand-me-downs. They break down as often as they work.”

He patted the fuselage of the beat-up Jenny. The paint was scratched and worn down to the wood in places. “Then there’s the fact that you’re in an open cockpit at altitude. Even with a leather suit, it is painfully cold up there, especially come winter. And we fly all year round, Miss Aldrich, regardless of weather. If it is physically possible to get off the ground, we fly.”

She bristled beside him.

Good. He was getting through.

Pausing beside the dual wing, she put her hands on her hips. “It wasn’t too dangerous for Katherine Stinson. She flew the mail two years ago just fine.”

This was going every bit as well as he thought it would. Of course, she would bring up Katherine Stinson. They were probably best friends.

“Katherine Stinson only made four flights for the airmail. It was a disaster.” And Ernie had no intention of repeating it.

She took in a long, deep breath through her gritted teeth.

“It was a media disaster and not of her making. There wasn’t a thing wrong with her flying. She set a world record, flying from Chicago to New York. And it wasn’t her fault that your colleague’s male pride couldn’t handle the sting of a reporter saying she beat him in a race from Philadelphia to New York when it wasn’t even a race.” Her fists twitched at her sides as if she were holding back from taking a swing at him.

He took a sip of his coffee and grinned. “I just broke Miss Stinson’s record.”

Her fists clenched even tighter. “So I heard.”

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

“I’m going to beat your record. That’s what I’m going to do. And I’m going to prove that women can fly every bit as well as men, if not better.”

Aha! He knew it! This was about taking him down a notch. Well, he wasn’t about to let her take his moment of triumph away from him.

She stepped forward so that they were toe to toe.

He didn’t budge. This was for her own good. “While I have nothing against woman pilots, you have to admit you attract too much attention. It’s distracting and makes it hard for the rest of us to get our jobs done. And I still say it’s too dangerous. Wind, fog, storms, snow—we fly regardless. Nothing stops the mail.”

“Oh, please.” Her face was far too close. My, she had pretty blue eyes. If she wasn’t such a preening show-off, he could have fallen hard for a girl like her. “This is all an excuse to get me out of the way. I am perfectly capable of flying in any weather you can fly in.”

“Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean you’re up to the job.”

She looked like a balloon about to pop—bright red and inches from his nose. “My fame has nothing to do with this. And, as you well know, I already have the job. I’m here with Burleson’s blessing, and unless you want to defy the Postmaster General, you have to let me fly.”

Ernie had no comeback to that. Burleson’s word was law. This might have been a lark for her, but Ernie needed this job. Much as he hated it, she’d won, and they both knew it.

Surrendering, he plastered on an obligatory smile, stood aside, and gestured with his arm. “Allow me to escort you to your plane.” He wasn’t really going to make her fly the old wreck beside them, but maybe a bit of practical experience would convince her to back down.

Let’s see how she feels after freezing her nose off in an open cockpit for hours. Even in October, it was brutally cold at altitude.

He took her over to a Curtiss R-4. Millie looked over the biplane with a critical eye, walking around slowly, passing her hand over the propeller and dual wings checking for nicks, even opening the hood. At long last, she seemed satisfied and looked over at him. “At least you didn’t stick me with that old Jenny.” She jerked her head toward the plane he showed her first.

“Oh? You’re too good to fly an old clunker like that?”

She gave him a withering look. “Spare me your disdain. All I ask is to be judged on my own merits as a pilot. And if you have a problem with that, you can take it up with Burleson.”

As if he could magically forget that his career was on the line, that the Postmaster General himself was paying attention. He’d never fly the mail again if he mucked this up. Somehow, he was supposed to both keep her safe and get her to quit without her blaming him or the Postal Service. That shouldn’t be complicated at all, should it?

Ernie squared his shoulders and attempted to look stern. “Come here tomorrow at eight a.m. Pack a bag. We’re heading to DC, stopping in Philadelphia for the night, and we’ll be gone three days. On the way out, you’ll follow me to learn the geography. On the way back, I’ll follow you to make sure you’ve got it down. Hopefully this time, there won’t be any press pretending it’s a race.”

“There won’t be press,” she assured him. “No one knows I’m doing this yet except a few friends. I’m tired of show business, and I want to do something useful for once.”

That earned a rueful guffaw. Attention-seekers like her never got tired of the limelight. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Miss Aldrich.”

“Yes, you will.” She spun in a huff and marched off.

Ernie watched her go, slightly embarrassed to find himself appreciating the rear view. How he could have mistaken her for a man, he had no idea. That walk was unmistakably feminine. Just look at those swaying hips.

Drinking down the last of his coffee, he nearly choked on the dregs. He was in deep trouble and had no idea how to dig himself out.

2

At seven-fifty a.m., Millie climbed out of her little red Stutz Bearcat roadster in the dirt parking lot beside Heller Airport. Even after a restless night’s sleep and the long drive and ferry ride from Manhattan, she was still brimming with righteous anger.

Why were men so difficult? She was perfectly capable of flying the mail. Pritchard thought he’d scare her with stories of fuel running out and mechanical failures as if she hadn’t lived through her fair share of near disasters learning to fly circus stunts. She knew very well how to land without power. She’d been doing it for nearly as long as there had been airplanes, probably longer than Pritchard.

Millie knew his type all too well—tall, handsome, convinced he was a god because he could defy gravity. Well, she could defy gravity too. She’d been doing it since she was fourteen.

Pritchard could go to hell with all his warnings. He was just one more man standing in her way as she carved out a life for herself. A life with no man by her side, thank you very much. She’d learned her lesson on that front.

Speaking of the devil, Pritchard drove up in a Model T just as she was pulling her bag out of her trunk.

“Nice car.” He sauntered over to admire her roadster.

What a show he put on with his too-long blond hair that he kept sweeping from his face. He seemed to think his dark caramel eyes would charm her and leave her weak-kneed, like some schoolgirl with a crush. Why should she care how lean and muscular he was beneath his leather flight suit? She certainly wasn’t distracted by the curve of his shoulder muscles or by his rolled-up sleeves showing off a tattoo on his left forearm of a swallow in flight.

“Ahem. I said, nice car.”

She glared at him. It was a nice car, and she’d earned it the hard way. Not that she could have afforded it on her airmail salary, which was half what the men made.

You don’t have a family to support. It wouldn’t be fair to the men, the Postmaster General had said when she objected to the pay. It was just one of the many negotiating points she planned to bring up once she fulfilled the terms of their little deal.

“You know, we have to work together.” Pritchard crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, a hint of a smile twitching on his lips. For the love of God, the man had dimples. Did he have to have adorable dimples? “We might as well be civil.”

“Why should I be civil to a man who’s plotting to get me to quit? Personally, I’d rather you kept your mouth shut and did your job.” She slammed the car trunk down.

He raised an eyebrow and made a show of closing his mouth with an imaginary zipper. Then he walked away. Cad.

She could ask to learn from someone else, she supposed. But that would mean surrender, and she was never going to do that.

Following him into the breakroom, she poured herself a cup of coffee. Ugh. Who replaced the coffee with mud? But she drank it anyway. By God if the others were going to drink this sludge, she was too.

A tall pilot with cropped black hair rigid with pomade peered into the room, spotted them, and ambled in.

“Jack, come in and keep me company.” Pritchard beckoned. “Have you met Miss Aldrich?”

The man looked her up and down and shook his head, smiling. Or was it a smirk?

Pritchard slapped him on the back and nodded at Millie. “Jack, Miss Millie Aldrich. Miss Aldrich, Jack Thompson, one of my oldest friends. We grew up next door to each other in Brooklyn.”

Delightful. Another man who thought it was hilarious that she intended to fly the mail. Easy does it, Millie. Don’t let your temper get the better of you on your first morning.

“Miss Aldrich. A pleasure to meet you at last. I’ve heard so much about you.” Jack held out his hand and smiled.

She bristled. If Thompson made a wisecrack about her former fiancé, she might have to kill him. But homicide was frowned upon on one’s first day at work.

“Only good things, I assure you.” Thompson’s smile fell a bit, but he kept his hand up.

Relenting, she took it and shook it firmly, forcing herself to smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Thompson. I look forward to working with you.”

She braced herself for the inevitable questions about what it was like to be engaged to Barney Mason, famous Hollywood cowboy.

“I saw one of your shows last May. You’re one hell of a barnstormer. Where did you learn to fly like that?”

That wasn’t what she was expecting. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to get a compliment on her flying after all the nonsense with Barney. “I learned in the circus. My father was in vaudeville, and my mother was an acrobat. When I was fourteen, a barnstormer joined the troupe, and I refused to stay away from his plane. I begged and begged until he taught me to fly, and by the time I was sixteen, I did so well that he added me to his act. It turns out folks will pay a lot of money to watch a girl risk her neck doing aerial stunts, so I kept at it.”

She brought in far more money than Mama and Papa, so quitting was never an option. To this day, she deposited half her earnings into their account every month. It was only because of her contributions that they’d been able to retire to Florida when Mom’s health took a turn for the worse.

Thompson poured himself a cup of coffee. “That’s quite a story! So what made you decide to fly the mail?”

Because the postmaster general had reached out to her agent with an offer she couldn’t refuse right after the disaster with Barney. He wanted her to break a speed or distance record as an official U.S. Airmail pilot by Christmas, bringing in good press for the Postal Service and winning over women voters.

If the positive press from her exploits got him the budget he was advocating for, he had agreed to open the airmail to more women pilots. But he had two conditions. First, she had to keep the deal they made a secret. Second, no fraternization. If she became a distraction or did anything that undermined the reputation of the airmail, she was out.

That was all fine by her. After the disaster with Barney, she wanted nothing more than to keep to herself and fly, especially if it furthered the cause of women pilots.

But since she’d promised not to talk about the deal, she simply answered, “I like a challenge.”

“Well, it certainly is challenging, but something tells me you’re up to it.”

She couldn’t help smiling at the compliment. “Thank you.”

Giving Pritchard a pointed look, she took a sip of coffee that tasted like tar. How did they drink this stuff?

Thompson turned to Pritchard. “So how are things going with Nancy?”

Nancy? Who was Nancy? Was there another aviatrix she should know about? Mr. Burleson had sworn she was the only one he was allowing, at least for now.

With a chuckle, Pritchard shook his head. “I broke up with her months ago. You’ve got to keep up, Thompson.”

Ah. They’d moved on to Pritchard’s romantic exploits. Lovely.

“Oh, right. Is it Kathleen?”

Pritchard shook his head again. How many women had this guy strung along? “Close, but no cigar. I’m seeing a gal named Vera now. I don’t think you’ve met her. Cute sassy little brunette. She’s just my speed.”

“Fast and loose?” Thompson smirked at his friend.

Millie had to clench her fists to keep from throttling them both. She had no desire whatsoever to listen to this conversation, and this poor woman! How could they talk about her like that?

Pritchard grinned and winked at Thompson like he was proud of it. “Don’t you know it. But I shouldn’t go into details. After all, we have a lady present.”

“Oh, you remembered me, did you? Does your girlfriend know you talk about her like this?” Millie stepped forward, hands on her hips.

Putting up his hands up in surrender, Pritchard took a step back. “Easy there. She isn’t my girlfriend. She’s just someone I go out with from time to time for a little fun. No commitments.”

As if that made it better. “So you’re toying with her?”

A flush crept up Pritchard’s neck. “I’m not toying with her. I’m just… I’m just…” He made an exasperated noise. “You know what? This is none of your business, and I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Good Lord! This Pritchard was almost as bad as Barney! Were there no good men in the world?

Thompson looked back and forth between them and backed away. “I should head out. I’ve got to make it to Boston by three.” He downed his coffee and turned to go.

“Break a wing,” Pritchard called after him.

“Same to you.” Thompson disappeared through the door.

For a long moment, she and Pritchard glared at each other in silence.

At last, Pritchard downed the last of his coffee with a grimace. “Time for us to get going, Miss Aldrich.”

He led her to a room she hadn’t been in, then motioned for her to pause. “Anyone in here?” he yelled, banging on the door with his fist. “I’m bringing a lady in.”

There was no answer.

“Come on. We keep the leather suits in the locker room. You’ll need one for today’s flight.”

As she entered, she was hit by the smell of dirty socks and aftershave. The open wood cubbies had hooks for the aviators’ clothes and sundries with locked metal cabinets above. In about half of the cubbies hung well-worn full-body leather flight suits with buttons down the front. The others were draped with an assortment of men’s garments and ditty bags. The walls were papered with a mix of old army aviator recruitment posters, newer Postal Service ones, and the occasional half-naked burlesque dancer. Lovely.

Pritchard brought her over to a tall, metal cabinet that was twice the width of the cubbies and opened it. Inside were a variety of leather flight suits. He picked the smallest one and handed it to her.

Mixed with the leather scent was a distinct odor of man sweat. Who knew how many had used this before her? Stifling a shudder, she climbed in and started to button up the front. The arms and legs were too long and bunched at her wrists and ankles. It felt like it weighed twenty pounds and made movement difficult. “How am I supposed to fly when I can hardly move?”

“Better this than trying to fly with frostbite, believe me.”

She’d seen the men in their suits. She knew this was required. That didn’t mean she had to like it. Finishing the last of her buttons, she turned toward him.

He barely stifled a laugh.

“Go ahead. Let it out. You already think I’m a joke.”

A chuckle escaped. “I’m sorry, Miss Aldrich, but you do make quite a picture.”

With gritted teeth, she pulled on the leather boot covers and strapped them around her sensible saddle shoes. Last, she put on the wool-lined gloves. She already wore a fur-lined aviator cap with goggles atop. “I’m ready.”

A diving costume couldn’t have been more awkward than what she was wearing. She wobbled her way out to her plane, trying to ignore the snickers of pilots and mechanics as she passed. A trickle of sweat dripped down her back.

Arriving at her plane, she pulled off her gloves to perform final checks. Every movement felt like swimming through mud.

As she concluded her checks, Pritchard came over, looking thoroughly at ease in his suit, damn him. “Are you ready? We can head out as soon as you are.”

“As ready as I’m going to be. I don’t know how you fly in these suits.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

Millie made her way awkwardly up the ladder into the cockpit and settled in with an undignified plop.

“Oh, and, uh…Miss Aldrich? I hope you used the powder room because it’s four hours to our next pit stop.”

“Of course, I did,” she lied, praying that cup of coffee she drank didn’t come back to haunt her. He waited until it was too late for her to do anything about it to remind her, didn’t he?

“All right, then. Off we go.” He clapped a hand against the fuselage as if it was a horse he wanted to giddyap.

Pritchard strode over to his own Curtiss R-4 and climbed in gracefully, as if he wasn’t encumbered with twenty pounds of leather. He started up his plane and taxied out to the runway.

Millie signaled to a mechanic to swing the propeller for her, and she opened the throttle, following Pritchard out. She watched as he picked up speed and left the ground, and she followed.

At last, the familiar freedom of lifting off the ground and soaring up into the heavens. It was a beautiful, clear October day, and she could see for miles as they climbed and climbed, the world shrinking away until it looked like a patchwork quilt beneath her, punctuated by the fiery colors of fall. This was what she lived for. Even her giant leather suit couldn’t bring her down now. And neither could a certain blond pilot who didn’t think she could handle the danger. Well, this was the day she was going to prove him wrong.

She reveled in the sun on her face until it got too hot, and she unbuttoned the top of her suit to get some air. The sun beat down relentlessly as they soared above the clouds. Sweat ran into her eyes behind the goggles, and she had to blink it away, trying not to take her eyes off the controls and the landscape she was supposed to be memorizing. The other plane hovered just ahead, a beacon to follow.

Then a chill started to creep in as they climbed higher still. The breezes got stronger and crisper as they hit maximum speed. The sun didn’t warm her the way it had, and she found herself buttoning up again.

About an hour in, she put on her gloves as the cold started to sink in and make her ache. On the ground, it was in the fifties, but up here, it was freezing. Ice crystals formed on the glass faces of her instruments, and she brushed them away awkwardly with her glove. The bottle of whiskey fastened to the controls told her she was flying level. They couldn’t use water because it would freeze up here.

Two hours in, her nose started to hurt. She wiggled it and wrinkled it, trying to improve blood flow, but it didn’t help. Putting her gloved hand over her nose gave her some relief. But that got in the way of her ability to study the landscape, so she had to let it go.

Three hours in, damn it all, she had to pee. The cursed coffee caught up with her, and there was nothing she could do but wait and watch the clock. And the landscape, of course. Just one more hour until sweet relief.

When the skyline of Philadelphia finally came into view, she wanted to dance a jig. After she went to the bathroom, of course. Sweet Jesus, relief was in sight!

At that moment, Pritchard’s plane dipped dangerously. Something was wrong.

She stopped breathing, her heartbeat sped up.

A thin line of smoke came out of the fuselage.

He was losing altitude. Oh, God, no.

This high up, if he lost control of the plane, he was a dead man. If the wooden fuselage caught fire, he was done for.

His only chance was to glide to a safe landing with the engine off before the whole plane went up in flames.

She forgot her discomfort. Nothing mattered but trailing him down and seeing him safe.

He knew what he was doing, she reminded herself. He’d probably made dozens of emergency landings, possibly hundreds.

Cold sweat trickled down her back as she watched him descend, helpless to do anything but follow. She had to force herself to breathe.

Down and down he went as the land rose up to meet them. Where was he headed?

She scanned the landscape for a safe landing place, then she spotted it. He was making for a farmer’s field just ahead. She couldn’t tell what he was growing from this height. It seemed to be a lot of green with flecks of orange.

More smoke billowed from his plane. If he didn’t touch down soon, he risked being burned to a crisp.

The stinging scent of burning oil filled her nose as she followed his trajectory unblinking.

At long last, Pritchard touched down for a bumpy landing. Thank God he was safe! He leapt from the plane and opened a panel in the fuselage. Even more smoke poured forth as he peered at the engine. It was a near miss.

She circled once and landed behind him. What could be causing her to bump around so much? She didn’t have an engine malfunction. Her plane ground to a halt, and she got out.

Pumpkins. They’d landed in a pumpkin patch. Well didn’t that just beat all? Two trails of smashed pumpkins stretched out behind them, reminding her of the wreckage that could have been but for Pritchard’s quick thinking.

She slid down the side of her plane and wobbled over to Pritchard, who was doing something to the engine.

“It’s the drive shaft again. Damned thing was just fixed.” He fanned away the smoke with his hand. “Let’s go talk to the farmer and find out where the nearest phone is.”

“Thank God you’re all right. That could have gone very badly.”

“Death or glory, as they say.” He winked at her. Something inside her clenched. Oh, dear.

The farmer had a phone and, God bless him, let her use the bathroom. He had a good laugh over her getup, though. “Never seen a lady dressed like that before. I guess there’s a first time for everything.” And he cackled. Oh, how he cackled.

When Pritchard got off the phone, he said, “I guess you get to be a passenger for the rest of today’s East Coast tour. I’ll fly us to Philly in your plane. They’re sending a crew to pick up my broken one.”

She helped him load the large canvas bags of mail from his plane into the front cockpit. He climbed into the back cockpit as she started the propeller. Then she climbed up and squeezed herself in between bags of mail, and they took off. It wasn’t the most dignified way to finish off her first day of work, but there wasn’t much choice.

After a short hop to Philadelphia, they were able to deliver the mail largely on schedule. With deep relief, she shed the leather suit and headed with Pritchard to the modest, two-story hotel by the airstrip where the airmail pilots always stayed. She thought about demurring and going to one of the more upscale hotels downtown she had grown accustomed to, but she decided it was best to keep a low profile for now.

“Congratulations, you made it through your first day as an airmail pilot.” He led her into the shabby lobby with peeling wallpaper and the stale scent of cigarettes. “Tomorrow, we fly to DC in the morning and back in the afternoon. Are you ready for a full day of flying?”

“I’m ready.”

“You surprised me today. You did better than I expected, and you haven’t complained once.”

That hushed the litany of complaints on her lips. He was complimenting her? She thought he wanted her to quit. But suddenly, he was being…nice.

“Thank you,” she said, then cleared her throat. Maybe he wasn’t so terrible after all.

3

Why was Ernie complimenting her when he was supposed to make her quit? It made no sense. Focus, Ernie.

Her look of surprise matched how he felt. It must have been a deeply ingrained habit. He was merely being polite. That must have been it.

It couldn’t possibly have been that he was impressed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” she said, smiling at him for the first time in their acquaintance. It tugged on something deep inside him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He winked at her, grinning like an idiot as she walked away. Then he shook himself. Was he losing his mind? He couldn’t get caught mooning over Millie Aldrich. His job, his career—he could kiss them goodbye if he so much as looked at her wrong. He shouldn’t have been looking at Millie Aldrich as anything but a problem to be solved.

He was about to head to his own hotel room when a familiar, lanky figure came sauntering in, dark hair plastered to his head from hours in a flight cap. “O’Donnell, is that you?”

“In the flesh.” O’Donnell paused beside him, staring after Millie’s disappearing form. “Say, was that Miss Aldrich?”

“Yes, but I have a much more important question for you. Would you like to grab a temperance beverage with me?” The last thing Ernie wanted to do was discuss Millie Aldrich with the biggest gossip he knew, and he desperately needed a chance to unwind after the day he had.

O’Donnell grinned. “I would not mind a fine temperance beverage one bit.”

“Excellent. Meet me back here in the lobby in fifteen minutes. I just need to clean up and change.”

Refocusing on the evening ahead, he headed for the reception desk to check in. “Hiya, Mort. Any room will do.”

The balding, middle-aged proprietor opened a cabinet of keys on the wall and took one down. Ernie tapped his foot to the ragtime on the polished wood radio behind the desk with the speaker shaped like a peacock’s tail.

That reminded him he had a dinner date with Vera. She was much more his speed than Millie. He couldn’t resist a naughty teacher, and it was such a lovely coincidence that she’d come down from New York to visit her aunt in Philly.

Mort handed him the key, and Ernie headed up the stairs to room 204, making himself at home in the narrow room with an even narrower bed. Opening his bag, he pulled out clean clothes that didn’t smell like an engine fire and added a tie and blazer. After all, he had to look his best for his date.

He’d meet her at the restaurant, and Vera would be dressed in one of those flapper numbers, knees peeking out beneath the scandalously high hem. Boy, was he looking forward to that!

He shrugged out of his sweaty clothes and changed into his fresh ones, then got out the pomade to comb his hair into some semblance of respectability. When he got back to New York, he was going to have to visit the barber. His hair was getting out of hand. He knew the ladies loved it, but it was a safety hazard once it was long enough to get in his eyes.

One last look in the mirror, and he was ready to go. Locking the door behind him, he headed downstairs to meet O’Donnell.

“Do you have a date tonight, you handsome devil? You’re looking exceptionally well groomed. I assume this isn’t for little old me.”

Laughing, Ernie nodded. “With Vera Clarke.”

“Have I met Vera?”

“I’m not sure. Short and cute. Black hair in a bob. She’s a schoolteacher. Lives in Brooklyn Heights, but she’s visiting her aunt here in Philly this week.”

O’Donnell shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Who was the one I met in New York two months ago? Redhead with the…” He gestured in front of his chest.

Ernie shook his head. “I thought you weren’t supposed to notice those things as a married man.”

“Purely a scientific observation, I assure you. You know I have eyes for no one but Ann.”

“I do.” It was true. The man was smitten. “And for your information, that was Lillian. She and I parted ways after she started hinting at a ring.”

“Not ready to settle down?”

“Vera and I have an understanding. She knows I’m not the marrying type.”

Vera was thoroughly modern in all the best ways. All she wanted was a little fun on the side while she pursued her career. No strings. No commitments. Teachers had to quit their jobs when they married, so she wanted nothing to do with matrimony, which suited him fine. He had too many responsibilities to consider settling down.

“Still playing the field, eh, you hound dog?” O’Donnell elbowed him in the side.

Ernie shrugged to avoid answering.

Sure, he wanted to marry eventually, but he couldn’t afford it until his sisters were off his hands. Once they either married or got careers of their own, he could consider it. But even the generous salary he received from the Postal Service wouldn’t let him support two households. He had Constance’s secretarial school tuition to pay, and Verity and Prudence were still in high school. He’d had no idea how much high school girls cost until he found himself supporting them. And, of course, there was Mom and Pop.

Most of all, he didn’t want them to want for anything. Ever since Pop’s hand got mangled in that factory accident, Ernie had been the family breadwinner. The whole family had been relying on him since he was seventeen, and by some miracle, he’d managed to keep them all afloat. The airmail was the best job he’d had yet. Sure, it was dangerous, but it paid well. And he was lucky. He’d survived the war, hadn’t he?

He touched the pocket watch he got from his grandpa—his lucky charm. He took it with him everywhere he went, and so far, it hadn’t let him down.

“Shall we head out? Our sodas await.” O’Donnell gestured toward the door, and together, they ambled down the block to the soda shop. But instead of entering, they circled around to a side door in the alley and knocked a special knock. The door opened, and they descended into a bar.

It was quiet right now, it being late afternoon. Ernie knew in a few hours it would be full of pilots trading war stories. The walls were covered with trophies and memorabilia from air shows, but they were hardly visible in the dim light.

They took seats at the bar and ordered two whiskeys.

“So tell me more about this Vera.” There was a twinkle of mischief in O’Donnell’s eyes.

Ernie always had to watch what he said to O’Donnell, or the entire airmail operation would know within twenty-four hours. Fortunately, Vera was a safe subject.

Their drinks arrived, and Ernie took a leisurely sip before answering. “She loves Mamie Smith singing the blues and drinking sarsaparilla soda, preferably with a little kick in it. I like her cute little bob, and she’s got curves in all the right places.” Yes, he would enjoy seeing Vera tonight, and he could relax and forget all about his day with Millie Aldrich.

Did he feel a little bit bad about keeping things casual with Vera? Well, sure. It wasn’t how things were done in his parents’ day. But he just needed to blow off a little steam.

We can’t all be as righteous as you, Pop. You made supporting the family look so easy before the accident. How did you carry so much weight on your shoulders without needing to escape?

Ernie wasn’t a saint like Pop, and he knew it. He did what he had to in order to keep himself sane and get by. And was he really harming anyone?

“She sounds like a dish.” O’Donnell raised his glass. “I hope you thoroughly enjoy your evening out.”

Ernie clinked glasses with his friend but very much wanted to change the subject from his personal life. “Did you hear Hopson got caught again dropping his laundry out of the plane at the laundromat in Bellefonte?”

“Again? That man has no shame. I would never do that. What if something went wrong and my undergarments got strewn all over town?”

“Lewis buzzed the Bellefonte courthouse again too. They say he sent the weathervane spinning.”

Given the antics of his fellow pilots, Ernie couldn’t figure out why Mr. Dickson was always so hard on him. Shouldn’t he have been paying more attention to the other mischief makers in the fleet? Ernie took a drink. God, it felt good trickling down his throat.

“And I hear you had yet another near-death experience today?” O’Donnell raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Uh oh. What did O’Donnell hear about today’s little mishap? “It was hardly near-death. The driveshaft in my engine broke down again, and I had to land in a pumpkin patch of all things.”

O’Donnell grinned. “A pumpkin patch? How seasonally appropriate. And did Miss Aldrich…uh…rescue you? That’s what I heard.”

Oh, no. The last thing Ernie needed was for the other pilots to think he’d been rescued like a damsel in distress by that virago. “Hardly rescued. She was flying with me to learn the route and landed with me, so I used her plane to fly us the short hop to Bustleton airport.”

O’Donnell’s grin got wider. “That sounds like a rescue to me.”

“Stuff it, O’Donnell. You know we all go down in a farmer’s field from time to time. This is no different. She happened to be there with me to give me a ride. Otherwise, I would have waited for the emergency crew from Bustleton. The last thing I need is you spreading the story that Millie Aldrich rescued me. I’d never hear the end of it.”

“No, you won’t.” The damage was done. O’Donnell was a dog with a bone, and he meant to let everyone know. All innocence, he said, “None of my doing, I assure you. The story’s already circulating without my help, but now that I have a firsthand account from you, I’m an authority on the matter.”

“I thought you were my friend, O’Donnell.” Ernie took another drink.

“Oh, I am. I promise to make you sound very valiant as you…er…get rescued by a girl from a pumpkin patch.”

Crap.

“Don’t look so sad, Pritchard. Everyone has their turn being humiliated by the rumor mill. Believe me, I’ve been a victim more often than most.” True, but he’d also been the perpetrator more often than most.

“Just remember all I’ve done for you and Ann.” The man needed a reminder of where his loyalties should lie. After helping O’Donnell win Ann over after a misunderstanding about some lipstick on his collar, Bill owed him.

O’Donnell’s expression sobered. “I will never forget. I am grateful every day. I promise I’ll stick to the facts.”

Good. O’Donnell would tone down the story. Thank heavens.

“And how is Ann? How are the kids?”

“Everyone’s doing fine. I miss them when I’m away. Though I miss this when I’m home. It’s good to escape the chaos from time to time.”

Ernie smiled. “And that is one of the many reasons I remain a bachelor.” He clinked glasses with O’Donnell and took a drink.

“Speaking of which, are you sure you don’t want to settle down? Sounds like you like this new girl of yours. I can assure you that matrimony with the right woman is a delight.”

“You sound like my mother.” His face heated. With his fellow bachelors, playing the field was something he might brag about, but admitting it to a married man, even when that man was O’Donnell, made him feel slightly abashed.

“Watch yourself. The parson’s trap comes for everyone eventually.”

“Ha! Not for me. I’m perfectly content as I am,” he said, though a splinter of doubt wedged its way into his conscience.

Suddenly, he didn’t want to be there anymore, so he pulled out his pocket watch. “Just look at the time! I should head out to the restaurant.” He finished off the last of his drink.

Saying goodbye to O’Donnell, he headed up to the street and flagged down a taxi.

Directing the cabbie to Chez Louis, he arrived at 8 p.m. on the dot, just in time to catch Vera getting out of a cab of her own—one leg then the other, then a little shimmy as she stood.

She looked smashing in a slinky green satin dress that clung to her petite frame. Even with heels on, the top of her head barely reached his chin. He bent over and kissed her cheek.

“I love that dress on you, sweetheart,” he murmured in her ear, then offered his arm to take her into the restaurant.

She beamed as she clutched his arm and sauntered beside him with swinging hips.

The maître d’ led them through the maze of round tables with crisp white tablecloths and napkins folded to look like fans. Dangling globe lights made the curving, wood paneled ceiling and walls shine with honey-colored light. The place had the sleek lines of a radio, and Vera seemed delighted.

As they were sitting down, he glanced at the neighboring table only to see Millie Aldrich, Katherine Stinson, and a woman he didn’t recognize, all dressed to the nines and chattering excitedly.

Dear God. Was there no escaping this woman?

4

“So I’m dying to hear how things are going with the airmail,” said Katherine, looking like a gorgeous elf, her long dark hair pinned up in a flawless chignon. She set aside her menu and leaned in. “I know they considered my tenure a disaster. How are they treating you?”

Millie laughed, making the beads on her favorite dress tinkle. “They’re letting me fly but doing everything in their power to convince me to quit. I’m paired up with one Ernie Pritchard to learn the ropes. And you never heard a man so backward in his opinions about women. He says we’re a distraction, and it’s too dangerous for us.”

“Why should his distraction be our problem?” said Gertie, patting her perfectly coiffed auburn bob.

“Exactly,” said Millie.

“Too dangerous my foot,” said Katherine. “Have they forgotten that I was the first person to deliver the mail all the way from New York to Chicago, and that I set a distance record on the way back?”

Millie shook her head. “Oh, they remember the distance record all right. This Pritchard fellow just broke it. And, of course, they remember the race that wasn’t a race between Philadelphia and New York. They’ll never let you live down ‘winning’ a training flight.”

“I still can’t believe I was forced to quit over something so silly.” Katherine took a swig of her water as if it had something more exciting inside.

“Tell us more about this pilot who broke Katherine’s record and dares to denigrate lady pilots,” Gertie said.

“He’s a damned good pilot and thinks that makes him God’s gift to women.” Millie took another sip of her water.

“I know the type,” Gertie said. “Is he good looking?”

“Very.” Much as it pained her to admit it.

“Arrogant.”

“In the extreme.”

“Thinks he walks on water.”

“Isn’t that all pilots?” Katherine interjected. “Ourselves included,” she added with a grin.

“Does he swagger like that fellow that just took the table next to us with that cute brunette?” Gertie asked, leaning in so as not to be overheard.

Millie turned around surreptitiously to look and then froze. Pritchard was staring at her with wide eyes.

“Pritchard,” she said, her cheeks aflame. How much did he overhear? Did he hear her saying he was handsome? “What a coincidence.”

“Miss Aldrich,” he said, looking almost as alarmed as she felt. “I see you’re here with friends.”

She looked at her friends for guidance and got none. God, she wanted the floor to swallow her. “Yes, these are my friends, Miss Stinson, who you may have met before, and Miss Talcott.”

Pritchard nodded polite acknowledgements and continued to stare at her. The brunette by his side tugged his sleeve and motioned with her head. “Oh, of course. This is Miss Clarke,” he said, gesturing toward his date. Turning to her, he explained, “Millie is a new colleague of mine on the airmail team.”

“Very nice to meet you,” Millie said before giving Pritchard a pointed look.

“Are you Millie Aldrich? And are you Katherine Stinson?” Miss Clarke asked, wide-eyed. Upon receiving nods, she continued, “I’ve read all about you in the papers, and I’ve seen you both perform. I think you’re so brave going up in the air like that and doing all those tricks. And to think Ernie here is working with a celebrity!” She tapped him playfully on the arm. “I wish I had something you could autograph for me.”

Oh, my. Miss Clarke is a fan. This is too awkward to be believed.

“We could autograph a napkin,” Katherine offered. Miss Clarke nodded vigorously. Millie donated her cocktail napkin to the cause. “What’s your first name so that I can personalize it?”

“Vera.”

Oh, poor Vera. She deserved better than a cad like Pritchard.

Katherine passed Millie the napkin. On it was written, “Vera, Spread your wings and soar. All the best, Katherine Stinson.” Millie added her signature, then passed it to Gertie, who gave her a questioning look.

“You are a pilot too.”

She beamed as she signed.

Vera looked like she might burst when she got up to retrieve the napkin from Katherine. “I’m going to have this framed. Thank you so much! I’ll let you eat your meal in peace.” She carefully put it in her clutch and turned to Ernie, hugging his arm. “Someday, we’re going to be sitting by the fire, telling our grandchildren about the time we met Katherine Stinson and Millie Aldrich at a restaurant.”

Ernie’s smile tightened, and he let out a strangled laugh. “Grandchildren? Seems like we’re getting way ahead of ourselves here. How about we focus on dinner tonight?”

He took Vera’s elbow and guided her back to their table, but not before Millie caught the way Vera’s face fell. It was clear as day that she was more invested in Ernie than he was in her. Poor Vera. Millie was going to have to have words with Ernie about not leading that lovely young woman on.

Katherine cleared her throat, and Millie dragged her gaze back to the ladies at her table. Oh, God. She was going to have to sit through a whole meal with Pritchard right behind her.

“I love your new hairstyle,” Katherine said to Gertie, admiring her bob. Her auburn hair was carefully coifed in a finger wave.

“I’m not brave enough to cut mine off yet,” Millie said, recovering herself and gesturing at her somewhat haphazard updo. “I’m worried if I cut it too short it will get in my face while I’m flying.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Gertie. “Just tuck it under your aviator’s cap, and it’s no problem at all.”

“How’s the barnstorming business?” Millie asked, desperate to talk about anything but the airmail and Pritchard.

“Going strong,” Gertie answered. “The public can’t get enough of the spectacle of a woman flying an airplane.”

“No, they cannot,” Katherine agreed. “You’d think we walked on the moon the way they gawk at us.”

“Nobody’s invited me to Europe, though,” Gertie said. “What’s it like?”

They were interrupted by the waiter. “May I get you ladies anything to drink?”

“I’ll have a cola,” said Katherine.

“Do you have lemonade?” Gertie asked.

“Yes, we do,” said the waiter. “And for you, miss?” He turned to Millie.

She wished she could have something alcoholic to drown her embarrassment, but alas, Prohibition had taken all the fun out of everything. “I’ll have a lemonade too.”

“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.”

Gertie slapped her on the back. “You lucky duck! I would kill for publicity like that.”

Millie shrugged. “I know that I should be grateful for what I have instead of whining about Barney. Fortunately, the Postmaster General needs me. Now that women can vote, he thinks the publicity around a lady pilot can help him get his Postal Service funding. I may have promised to do a private air show for members of Congress.”

Nerts! She shouldn’t have said that. This martini was going straight to her head.

“Bold move,” said Gertie, raising a glass. The others joined her and took a drink.

“Please keep this to yourselves, though. I’m not supposed to talk about it.” She knew her friends would keep her secret, but she shouldn’t have blabbed.

“Don’t worry about us, dear. Our lips are sealed.” Gertie patted her shoulder reassuringly. “But enough about men. I’d much rather talk about flying.”

“Hear, hear,” said Katherine. “Gertie, I heard a flock of geese flew through in the middle of a show last month. What did you do?”

“Geese,” said Gertie, shaking her head. “Can’t stand ’em. I was in the middle of a loop-the-loop, and they came out of nowhere, flying right at me. I knew if they got in my propeller, I was a goner, so I shot out of there as fast as I could go, throwing in a barrel roll so it looked intentional. The audience thought it was all part of the show. I tell you, my knees were shaking when I landed at the end of it, but I wasn’t going to let some dumb birds be the end of me.”

“Birds,” said Katherine. “That reminds me of the time when…”

Millie glazed over, finally relaxed and tipsy. She’d heard these stories and others like them a hundred times, but they never got old. She had the very best friends in the world. If only she could fly with them every day and never see Ernie Pritchard again!

5

Ernie knew very well that Heller Airport in Newark was a nightmare to land in. Miss Aldrich had shown remarkable skill and stamina over the last few days and had remained blessedly silent since running into him at dinner. He overheard her saying something about him being handsome and arrogant, and she seemed deeply embarrassed by it. Not that he minded being called handsome and arrogant. Both were true. And he rather liked the idea of Millie thinking he was handsome. Still, it was probably best for both of them to pretend it didn’t happen and focus instead on flying.

Today’s landing would be a true test of her abilities. The runway was too short, and the airport was pinned between two factories with a canal right behind it. If you came in too fast, you’d end up in the dirt pile at the end of the runway, or worse yet, the water. He’d talked her through what to do, but now he needed to see if she could do it.

As he watched and circled, he could hardly breathe. If Millie got hurt executing this landing, he didn’t know what he would do. He was trying to get her to quit, not send her to the hospital.

She let her plane drop, just as he’d instructed. His knuckles turned white on the yoke as he watched. So far so good.

At the last moment, she turned hard to miss the Tiffany factory. It was a near miss, but that was how it had to be for the landing to be successful. A trickle of sweat dripped down his neck as she nosed down and wheels touched the ground.

It was a rough landing, but she stopped short of the dirt pile at the end of the runway, which was more than he could say for most pilots attempting it for the first time. He let out the breath slowly. Thank God she made it! That was an impressive bit of flying, though he would never admit to it out loud.

Ernie circled around once more and executed the tricky maneuver himself, touching his pocket watch for luck right before he went in.

As his wheels touched dirt, he heaved a sigh of relief. They were home safe, and he hadn’t killed Millie Aldrich. He hadn’t convinced her to quit either, though, and he knew he was going to hear about it from Mr. Dickson. He needed a plan. Maybe the Philadelphia–DC run was too easy. Maybe he needed to present her with more of a challenge.

Getting out of his plane, he surrendered it to the mechanics and then headed to the locker room. It was a relief to shed his suit. Miss Aldrich wasn’t wrong about how uncomfortable the damned things were. He headed to the breakroom for a cup of disgusting coffee to warm up, but as he turned, he bumped right into Mr. Dickson.

“Pritchard. I’m glad you’re here.” Mr. Dickson nodded towards his office. Ernie followed and sat down as Mr. Dickson closed the door. “This business with Miss Aldrich has gotten out of hand. There’s a reporter poking around asking questions about whether Millie Aldrich rescued an airmail pilot from a pumpkin patch. Would you know anything about that?”

There was no good answer to that, so Ernie stayed silent.

Mr. Dickson’s expression darkened. “I knew she’d be trouble. Women have no business in my airmail operation. Have you had any luck getting her to quit?”

“Not yet.” Ernie turned his gaze to his boots.

The deep, rumbling noise Mr. Dickson made gave Ernie the willies. “Burleson says we can’t fire her as long as she’s following the rules and doing her job. I don’t know why he foisted her on us, but we’re stuck with her until we can prove she doesn’t belong. What do you think is our best option here?”

Ernie squirmed in his seat and touched his pocket watch. Millie had impressed him. He was starting to feel a little bit guilty for plotting to get her to quit. Much though he hated to admit it, she might actually deserve to fly the mail. Not that he could afford to come to her defense in front of Mr. Dickson. He needed to keep his job after all.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I think we should try her on a harder route. New York to DC was too easy. Let’s try her on the Chicago route and see how she likes it. The cold is even more punishing this time of year, and she’ll have to negotiate ‘Hell’s Stretch’ over the Alleghenies. I’ll do my best to make sure she comes to no harm, but hopefully, it will convince her to quit.”

Mr. Dickson nodded. “I’ll update your schedules. You’ll leave Monday morning. We need her out of here so that we can get on with the business of delivering the mail. We have enough troubles without a woman here stirring things up.”

The longer this assignment lasted, the less Ernie liked it, but it wasn’t as if he had a choice. “Is that all, sir?”

“Yes, that’s all. Thank you.”

Ernie got up to leave and headed to the breakroom where he saw Millie pouring herself a cup of coffee. His heart went out to her. No one deserved to be drummed out of a job for no reason like this. But there wasn’t a thing he could do about it without risking the ire of Mr. Dickson.

She turned to face him. “When do we fly again?”

Her gaze flickered to meet his and then away. She’d had trouble meeting his eyes since their run-in at dinner.

“Monday morning. We’re heading to Chicago. You’ll want to bundle up for it. This route is much worse than the one to DC.”

She smiled and looked up again, more confident this time. There was an exuberant light in her eye. The madwoman seemed to welcome the challenge. “I’ll be ready.”

He couldn’t help but feel grudging admiration for her bald courage. For a long moment, their gazes locked, and something passed between them that sent warmth all through him. Oh, no. That couldn’t be good.

“Pritchard?” Her cheeks flushed as she said his name, and she glanced away.

“Yes?”

“How was the rest of your date with Vera?” She looked back up at him, a spark of challenge in her eyes.

How was his date any of her business?

“Fine, though I’d rather not discuss my love life with you.” It was more than fine. Vera was so excited to learn that he was flying with Millie Aldrich that she fawned over him all evening. Nonetheless, his ears burned, and he squirmed under Millie’s scrutiny. Why did he feel so defensive all of a sudden?

“Fair. I just wanted to say that I liked her.”

“And?” She obviously had something else on the tip of her tongue. His gaze dipped briefly to her lips, as if he could see what she was biting back. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and something inside him clenched.

“And I hope you’re treating her right.” She looked him in the eye as she said it, her fiery gaze scalding him. “It’s obvious that she hears wedding bells every time she looks at you, and I think she deserves better than you.”

He’d been worrying about that too, but he liked Vera. They had fun together. And he’d been clear from the start that this was strictly casual. He tugged at his collar. When did it get so hot in here? “And why is that?”

“I don’t appreciate your attitudes toward women. Just look at how you’ve been treating me.” She stepped closer. They were toe to toe. Too close.

“I’m perfectly respectful towards women.”

“Oh? Then you’re not trying to get me to quit, and your intentions toward Vera are entirely honorable?”

Ouch. That hit too close to home. “My relationship with Vera is none of your business, and I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself.”

Her breath whispered against his neck. Did this woman never back down?

Out of nowhere a vivid memory of Millie in that beaded dress she wore the other night assailed him. Her lips were too close. He could smell her scent of soap and lemon. For a split second, the heat of fury gave way to the heat of something else. Time slowed down to a crawl, and he found himself leaning toward her, lips parted.

Oh, God no.

Spinning away, he walked out, shaking with anger and something else he was trying very hard to ignore. He went to the locker room to grab his bag and headed straight to the car.

He had the whole two-hour drive to cool off, but he needed to get away from her immediately. Cranking up his Model T, he set off, pedal to the metal, speeding along at a blistering forty miles per hour.

Soon, he was at the ferry to Manhattan. He stayed in his car, fuming, for the trip across the Hudson. They couldn’t build that tunnel between Manhattan and New Jersey soon enough, as far as he was concerned. The progress of the ferry was too slow, and he was itching to move.

How dare she pry into his personal business like that! What gave her the right to sit in judgment over him? She didn’t understand anything about him. Vera wasn’t under any illusion that he was going to marry her. She knew he wasn’t ready to settle down. He understood Miss Aldrich’s anger at him for trying to get her to quit. But that didn’t make his relationship with Vera any of her business.

As he disembarked the ferry, he found himself in for even more waiting as traffic snarled his short trip across Manhattan to the Brooklyn Bridge. The spire of the Woolworth Building seemed to glower down at him along with the lesser towers that had recently sprung up like weeds in Lower Manhattan. Everyone and everything seemed to be out to thwart him.

And what was that moment of madness right before he left? He could not afford to be attracted to Millie Aldrich. It was suicidal. Not that he had a leg to stand on when it came to suicidal pursuits, given his chosen vocation. But unlike some of his colleagues, he didn’t fly for the thrill of danger. He loved flying and couldn’t imagine making a living any other way, but he didn’t care for peril for its own sake. He had one of the best safety records in the fleet for a reason.

He was careful. That was what Miss Aldrich didn’t understand. He didn’t take unnecessary risks in the air or on the ground. The ladies he dated were safe. He didn’t want to find himself entangled. Keeping it casual helped him maintain a sort of detached equilibrium where no one’s heart was in danger, least of all his own.

At last, he reached the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge and began his drive over the long span. He was in the home stretch, not that he was particularly looking forward to seeing his family. He knew they would have a thousand questions and a million demands. He tried his best to be a good son and big brother, but nothing he did ever felt like enough.

As he pulled up in front of the townhouse where he lived with his family, he braced himself for his family. Assuming Prudence and Verity were home, he needed to be ready for anything.

“I did not give you permission to borrow my telescope,” one of his sisters yelled as soon as he walked in the door.

“But I need it to spy on Benjie Stanton.”

Ernie climbed the stairs to the sitting room, smiling at his sisters despite his foul mood.

“Girls, enough of that racket,” his mother hollered from somewhere unseen. “Verity, if you want a telescope, save up your pin money and buy one. Furthermore, it isn’t nice to spy on people. Prudence, it wouldn’t hurt to be a bit more generous with your sister and share from time to time. Now both of you be quiet. I think I heard your sister come in.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but it’s just me,” Ernie bellowed. Just him. The restless ne’er-do-well, not the angelic future secretary.

Verity and Prudence squealed and came rumbling down the stairs. “Ernie, can I have money for a telescope?” Prudence asked, coming to a halt in front of him, wisps of her blonde hair flying out from her usual long braid.

“Why should she get money for a telescope after stealing mine?” said Verity arriving moments later, her hair carefully coiffed in a stylish bob. “If anyone should get money, it should be me.”

“Last I heard,” said Ernie, pulling out his wallet and handing them each some bills with a wink, “you two put a frog in your teacher’s desk.” He raised a finger to his lips and motioned for them to tuck the money away before their mother came in.

“Thank you,” they both mouthed silently.

“I knew Mom would blow it out of proportion. We were studying amphibians, and I thought it might be helpful to look at a live specimen,” Prudence said aloud.

“And you should have heard the teacher scream,” said Verity, bursting into laughter. “It was hilarious.”

He couldn’t help but grin, though he pulled a straight face again quickly, expecting his mother to walk in at any moment.

“It was for science!” Prudence gave her sister a little pinch.

Verity gave her a dirty look. “Everything with you is science.”

“And everything for you is an investigation. Can you please leave poor Benjie Stanton alone? I know what he’s up to, and it isn’t nefarious.”

Brown eyes wide, Verity demanded, “Tell me now! You can be my first witness.”

Mom came lumbering in from the kitchen, an older version of the twins, her blonde bun streaked with white. “Verity, enough with your amateur Pinkerton nonsense. Prudence, science is not an excuse to play a practical joke on your teacher.”

“But it wasn’t a practical joke⁠—”

“I know, I know. It was science,” his mother said. “That’s no excuse.”

“Enough of this racket! I’m trying to write a sermon,” Pop bellowed from his study. “Don’t make me come down there.”

“Ernie, you aren’t encouraging these two again, are you?” Mom demanded with a sharp look. “They’ll never learn to behave if you keep indulging them. If anything, you should be setting an example and helping me keep them in line.”

A door opened downstairs. Constance. Thank heavens.

Constance came in the door, dark hair framing her placid face. She was the only member of the family to inherit their father’s coloring. Seeing them all, she smiled in delight. He wished he could summon delight like that. Mostly he felt awkward at home because he couldn’t live up to his parents’ expectations for their eldest son.

“Ernie, it’s so good to see you.” She came over for a hug. “You need rescuing, don’t you?” she whispered in his ear.

“Yes,” he whispered back.

“Mom, I’m sure Ernie’s had a long day. Let’s let him get some rest, shall we? Besides, I need your help with a project.”

Ernie gave her a grateful look and headed upstairs to his bedroom to hide. He loved his family. Truly, he did. But Constance was a saint.

He pulled out his sketch book as he always did when he wanted to unwind, and found himself drawing Millie Aldrich, bold and beautiful next to her plane. It was a mistake to dwell on her, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The picture practically drew itself. After putting the finishing touches on the sketch, he closed the book and shook his head.

If only he could call on Constance to rescue him from Millie Aldrich, everything would be so much easier.

6

Millie collapsed on the sleek, Maurice Dufrêne chaise longue when she got home. Its lines echoed those of her roadster. Never had a piece of furniture for lounging looked so fast. She probably shouldn’t have bought it, but it was her present to herself after the breakup with Barney.

Peace at last. Her roommate, Beth, wasn’t due home for another half hour or so. Not that she didn’t adore Beth. They’d been friends for years, but sometimes a woman needed to wallow in solitude.

She closed her eyes, and there was Ernie Pritchard, inches from her nose, his manly scent wreaking havoc with her senses. Heat pulsed through her, and it wasn’t the heat of anger. Oh, no, this was something else entirely—something that had to be buried deep down where it could never rear its head again.

Picking up a throw pillow, she mashed it over her head as if she could hide from the memory. She could not be attracted to that cad. It was a moment of madness, nothing more. It had been a stressful day with that tricky landing. His rare moments of kindness had thrown her off guard. And then she’d stepped too close when they were arguing about Vera.

Watch yourself, Mildred. Don’t you let another playboy turn your head.

Sitting up, she composed herself. The madness had passed, and nothing had come of it. She just had to make certain it never happened again.

There was a sound at the door, and Millie hurriedly sat up and put on a nonchalant expression.

Beth walked in, tall and lithe, fresh from tennis practice. Somehow her short brown hair always managed to look pristine, even after heavy exercise. It wasn’t fair.

“You’re home early,” Millie said.

“Coach twisted his ankle. We called it a day.” Beth tossed her gear bag into her room. “How was your first trip with the airmail?”

“As good as could be expected. They’re all hoping I quit, but I made it through without any major mishaps. The same can’t be said for the man tasked with teaching me the routes. He had to do an emergency landing outside of Philadelphia because of an issue with his drive shaft. Fortunately, I was there to save the day.”

Beth smiled. “Lucky him.” Her blue eyes sparkled as she arched her eyebrows.

“And he didn’t even thank me. Can you imagine?” He acted as though landing in a pumpkin patch was the normal course of business.

“The nerve.”

“Though he did grudgingly compliment me on my flying at the end of the day.” Mm. That was a delicious compliment. So hard won.

“You softened him up with your usual sweetness?”

“Come now. We both know I don’t do sweet.”

Beth observed her carefully for a long moment then pursed her lips. “You like him.”

Dammit. Millie grabbed a pillow and threw it at Beth. “Do not.”

“Oh, you really like him,” Beth said, eyes wide. “Is he handsome?” she asked, throwing the pillow back.

Millie grimaced.

“My, my! You’re blushing. I’ll take that as a yes.” Beth went over to the sideboard with geometric wood inlay and opened a cabinet door to pull out gin, vermouth, and olives. “Martini?”

“Yes, please.”

Beth ducked into the kitchen to get ice from the Frigidaire. The damned thing cost more than a Model T, but it was worth its weight in gold. She’d bought one for her parents too, of course, even though Mom swore her regular icebox did just fine. What was the point of making a small fortune in show business if you couldn’t spoil your family?

“So when are you seeing him again?” Beth asked as she mixed the drinks.

“Monday. We’re supposed to fly to Chicago. I’ll be gone a week.”

“A week away with this mystery man. Should I be planning a wedding?” Beth handed Millie a drink.

“Hardly. He’s a playboy, and his attitudes toward women are appalling. He’s trying to get me to quit, and I don’t think he treats his girlfriend with the proper respect.” She took a drink.

Beth shook her head. “He’s taken? Then why the interest?”

Millie narrowed her eyes. “I’m not interested, but I need to make him see the error of his ways. The sweet woman he’s dating clearly thinks they’re about to walk down the aisle, and you should have seen his cringe when she casually mentioned grandchildren. He’s stringing her along, and it’s inexcusable. The man needs to learn that women aren’t toys.”

“Oh, no. You can’t be serious. You’re going to try to reform him?” Beth’s wide eyes peered at her over the top of the martini glass.

“How can I stand idly by and let him treat the women in his life like this? I’d be doing a public service.”

Beth shook her head and drank deeply. “I know you can’t resist a challenge, but this is going too far. You’re not going to change him. No one will thank you for trying.”

People never appreciated Millie’s pigheaded persistence, but when did that ever stop her?

“I don’t need thanks. The knowledge that I’ve done a good deed is enough for me.”

“I bet you twenty dollars that every single person involved in this will be worse off by the time you’re done scheming, yourself included.”

Millie sipped and considered. On the rare occasions Beth gambled, she always won. That made this all the more tempting. Wouldn’t it be delicious when Millie emerged victorious against all odds?

“You’re on.”

Millie held out her hand, and they shook on it.

“I can’t wait to collect,” Beth said with a half-smile, raising her glass. “There’s a necklace I’ve had my eye on. By the way, when are we judging this? There needs to be a time limit.”

“One month?”

“Sounds reasonable. One month it is.”

Millie loved Beth. And Beth could not be allowed to win. It should have been illegal for Beth to win as much as she did. She won at tennis. She won at gambling. She won that dance competition when they were sixteen that Millie made her enter on a dare.

When Millie first earned her way into a small fortune and had to navigate the upper echelons of society, Beth, a delightfully wayward Park Avenue-born bluestocking, had volunteered to show her how things were done, and Millie had been so grateful to follow her lead. But as Millie got her feet under her, their friendship evolved into a cheerful rivalry, and Beth had uncanny luck at besting everyone she met.

One day, Millie was going to win. It would be a day of glorious vindication. Millie could practically taste sweet victory already. That twenty dollars was hers. She would use it to buy herself an enormous trophy engraved with her name and the date and time of her victory. It would be so big it would break the damned shelf that was already groaning under the weight of Beth’s trophy collection. Millie’s would be the biggest.

Not that she was competitive.

And she really did love Beth. Millie downed the rest of her martini. “I have to change. I have a meeting with Mr. Burleson.”

Beth raised her eyebrows and took a sip of her drink. “The head of the Postal Service? My, my! Best of luck, dear!”

Millie ducked into her room to dress for her appointment, already scheming how she was going to get Pritchard to change his ways. But first, she had to survive this meeting with Mr. Burleson.

She put on a long-sleeved green gown with a scoop neck, a low waist, and a full skirt that just covered her knees in the front and draped down to her ankles in back. It was the most conservative dress she owned, and she could only hope it did its job of convincing Mr. Burleson she was serious about their deal. She twisted her hair into a haphazard chignon and tied a band of green ribbon that matched her dress around her head.

She pulled on light wool coat to keep away the autumn chill and bid her friend goodbye.

“You really should let me do your hair, you know,” said Beth.

“I don’t have time, but thank you for offering.” She kissed Beth on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

Millie took a cab to Manhattan’s main post office on Eighth Avenue. It was so large that it took up an entire city block. Above the grand colonnade around the entrance was inscribed the motto of the Postal Service. Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds. As she climbed the marble steps, she tried not to think about the deadly consequences for pilots of living this motto.

After asking directions several times and climbing more staircases than she cared to count, she arrived at the heavy door to Mr. Burleson’s corner office. His ancient secretary looked up from pecking at the typewriter at the speed of a sloth. “Miss Aldrich?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The woman nodded slowly. “He’s expecting you. Go right in.” She turned back to her typing one key at a time without a second glance.

Millie opened the heavy door with a shiny brass knob and entered the dark, wood paneled office with a desk roughly the size of a delivery truck. The walls were hung with photographs of Mr. Burleson’s accomplishments—the first airmail flight with President Wilson looking on, opening post offices in rural areas, holding up a newspaper article with the headline ESPIONAGE ACT ENFORCER for his role in wartime censorship.

She’d heard rumors that he was a strict segregationist, and sure enough, everyone in the photos was white, making her gut churn. Not to mention male. If he wanted to keep minorities down, he must have loathed letting women gain a foothold.

She turned her attention to the man himself, enthroned behind his desk in a chair fit for a king, his face cast in shadow until he leaned forward.

“You’re two minutes late,” he grumbled before getting up to shake her hand. “Please take a seat, Miss Aldrich.”

As during their previous meetings, he looked imposing in his perfectly tailored suit with his sharp eyes and receding snowy hair. There was a calculating look to him that never seemed to leave him, as if in every situation, he was weighing his strategic advantage. The man had a ruthless reputation, and Millie didn’t trust him an inch. But Mr. Burleson was nothing if not an opportunist. He needed her however much he hated it, and she knew it.

“Good evening, Mr. Burleson.” She took a seat in the unpadded, straight-backed chair opposite him. Was it her imagination, or was the seat lower than usual? It was as if he chose the chair specifically to make whoever was in his office ill at ease. “You wanted to meet with me?”

“Yes, I want an update on your progress. Have you settled in with the airmail operation?” His gruff tone of voice made it clear that he wasn’t asking to be nice.

“Yes, Mr. Burleson. I’ve settled in.” She wasn’t about to mention the hazing she’d received. Any signs of weakness would get her thrown out on her ear.

“Good. Good.” His smile held no warmth. “And how soon can you break a record so that we can do a newspaper feature?”

Wasn’t it a bit early for him to be asking? “Mr. Burleson, I thought I had until Christmas.”

He made a rumbling noise in his throat. “I’m afraid I need you to speed things up. The Senate Appropriations Committee wants to cut the airmail operation altogether, and I need to show broad public support for it as soon as possible, or that’s the end of flying the mail. I need to show that women voters are on my side. You have a month.”

Millie gulped. That was barely enough time for her to learn the routes let alone set a new record.

“You look like you have doubts. Should I find someone else? Maybe I could get Katherine Stinson to come back.”

Millie happened to know that Katherine wouldn’t come back no matter what Mr. Burleson offered, but there were plenty of other lady aviators out there anxious to make their marks. And Millie didn’t want it to be anybody but her. She hated losing out to anyone on anything and wasn’t about to let someone else steal this opportunity.

“I’ll do it, Mr. Burleson. Have no fear. There’s no need to get anyone else.”

“Good.” His gaze bored into her, and she wished she could get up and leave. “And you’ll stick to the rules?”

For a moment, a vision of blond hair, brown eyes, and a swallow tattoo made her cheeks heat, but she shook it away. There was no chance she’d break the rules for that low-life cad. “No fraternization, and our deal is a secret. I’ll stick to the rules.”

Too much depended on her. It was a heavy enough weight to know she was fighting for women to be allowed to fly the mail, but having the fate of the entire airmail operation on her shoulders made success an absolute necessity.

“I cannot emphasize enough how important it is that you do not say a word about any of this to anyone else, especially about the potential budget cuts. I don’t want anything to distract the men from running the best damn airmail service the world has ever seen.”

“I promise I won’t.” She wouldn’t dare. The consequences if the news got out would be too dire. The pilots would start looking for other jobs. Confidence in the airmail operation would plummet. And, of course, women would never be given the opportunity to fly the mail. She had to keep this secret at all costs, no matter how hard it might be to look her fellow pilots in the eyes over the month ahead.

Mr. Burleson nodded. “That is all. You’re dismissed.” He turned his attention to some papers on his desk and didn’t bother to rise to say goodbye.

She rose and hurried out, descending endless staircases until she emerged onto the busy thoroughfare of Eighth Avenue. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if someday there was a Postmistress General who would right all the wrongs of her predecessors? But given how long it had taken for women to win the vote, she didn’t have high hopes it would be anytime soon.

In the meantime, she had no choice but to play by Mr. Burleson’s rules. As she flagged down a cab, a newfound determination settled in. In the month ahead, she had to break a record, woo the press, save the airmail, and convince Ernie Pritchard to be a better man. That shouldn’t be too hard, should it?

7

Ernie would rather have been anywhere else with Vera, but she insisted.

“They say it’s going to be her last show. She’s retiring from the circuit. Please, Ernie?”

And so here he was, spending his Saturday standing in line for a ticket to Millie Aldrich’s air show at Belmont Racetrack. As if he didn’t see enough of her at work. As if she didn’t occupy his thoughts to a disturbing extent already.

Fortunately, there was no need for her ever to know he was here. The last thing he wanted her to think was that he was a fan. How embarrassing would that be?

The day was sunny and clear, with only the lightest of breezes—ideal flying conditions. The autumn air had a bite to it, and Vera, to his disappointment, had her lovely assets buttoned up beneath a tweed coat that reached her knees. Her dark bob was tucked neatly beneath a cute brown hat shaped like a bell that matched her jacket.

He looked forward to seeing what she wore underneath when they relaxed at a speakeasy after the show. Vera always knew how to make the most of her petite form.

At the moment, his date was bouncing on her toes, bobbing with excitement, trying to catch a glimpse of Millie who was signing autographs in the distance. He was grateful Vera already had the signed cocktail napkin and so wouldn’t insist on getting one herself.

Once they had their tickets, he was relieved that Vera pulled him over to a booth selling hot cider instead of joining the autograph line. They just had time to buy themselves piping hot beverages with cinnamon on top before taking their place in the stands. A boisterous crowd of onlookers milled about below, in front of the stands. The racetrack was almost as crowded as it was for the Belmont Stakes.

Millie had far too many adoring fans. It was irritating. As he watched the crowds, he remembered all the reasons Mr. Dickson said they needed to get her to quit. They didn’t need a celebrity on the team. It created too much of a stir. They had a job to do, for heaven’s sake. Couldn’t she see how much of a distraction she was from their important work?

While so far her flying had been up to snuff, her celebrity status was still a concern. Ernie shook his head as he looked out over the audience.

Vera clasped his arm and snuggled against his shoulder. “Isn’t it just too exciting? I’ve seen her three times. I never would have thought a woman could fly like that.”

“You know, some of us men can fly too,” he said a little too defensively.

“Don’t I know it,” she said, giving him a wide grin that made him wish they could leave the crowds behind and go somewhere private right then, although there was a hint of something more than flirtation in her gaze that made him uneasy. But it was probably nothing.

She squeezed his arm, and he flexed, knowing she would say, “Mmm.”

It worked like a charm. She looked like she wanted to take a bite out of him.

Good. This was a date. He wanted Vera’s attention on him, not his distractingly alluring stunt-flying nemesis.

A roar went up from the crowd, and Vera’s gaze turned to the sleek monoplane on the green and the tiny figure walking over to it.

“That airplane is one of a kind, you know,” Vera said, her eyes glued to the field below. “Glenn Curtiss made it for her.”

Ernie rolled his eyes, knowing Vera was looking elsewhere. “It looks like a very nice plane,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, which wasn’t much.

Of course, Millie had her own plane. Of course, it was custom made just for her by the best airplane manufacturer in the country.

Some people had all the luck. Nobody handed him a plane. He learned to fly during the war, on airplanes that saw so much use, they barely held together. Two years later, he was still flying those planes, thanks to the airmail operation’s minuscule budget. And damn it all, he set a record in one of those planes.

Ernie from Brooklyn was never going to have a custom Curtiss, and that suited him fine. He didn’t need some shiny machine to show his skill as a pilot. Let her have her private plane and her adoring crowds. What mattered wasn’t the plane, but the skill of the pilot.

Millie climbed into the cockpit, and he did his best to ignore the way his heart beat faster at the sight of her. A second woman he didn’t recognize walked out and climbed into the second cockpit. Millie was carrying a passenger while she did her death defying stunts? It was irresponsible in the extreme.

A man gave her propeller a swing and hurried out of the way as she opened the throttle.

She took off like a shot. How fast was that thing going? The planes he flew typically went seventy-five miles per hour at best. She looked like she must be going more than one hundred as she climbed in a steeply banked circle up and up from the crowds below.

When she was a mere speck in the sky, she turned and dove. Ernie gripped his seat despite himself. She was going too fast. How could she possibly pull out in time?

The crowd gasped all around him. Ladies raised gloved hands to their mouths. Vera squeezed his arm with fierce strength.

At the last possible moment, the plane pulled up, buzzing the field and rising once again.

Vera’s grip relaxed, and he realized with embarrassment he’d been holding his breath.

Then Millie turned upside down, and his fingers clutched the bench again. He’d been to his fair share of air shows and seen loop-the-loops before, but never had he feared for the pilot the way he did now. Millie was upside down in an airplane, for heaven’s sake. Didn’t she care for her life at all?

She looped once, twice, three times. With each circle, his stomach clenched, and his jaw dropped a little bit farther.

“Isn’t she magnificent?” Vera whispered beside him.

“Uh-huh,” he answered before he could stop himself.

He watched, incredulous, as she performed stunt after stunt, his insides twisting into a knot.

When she dove toward the crowd while doing a barrel roll, he dropped his cup of cider. It spilled all over his shoes. He hardly noticed.

Though he’d never been a stunt flier, Ernie foolishly assumed up to this moment that he was the better pilot. But he had to admit he could never match the precision of her turns, the control of her dives. She flew like a hawk hunting its prey, as if she was born to this, as if the wings were part of her.

He thought he’d given her a challenge landing at Heller Airport. Now he knew better. That was child’s play compared to the complex and precise twists and turns of her aerial acrobatics.

For an entire hour this madness went on, and he could only seem to breathe in gasps and gulps as she defied death time and again.

She slowed and circled low over the crowd. The passenger in the front cockpit stood.

He grasped Vera’s knee.

The woman climbed out onto the wing, seating herself with her feet dangling.

Madness. Utter madness.

Ernie squeezed.

“Ow,” said Vera.

He let her go and mumbled, “Sorry.”

One circuit and then another.

The crowd went wild. Everyone was standing and screaming their cheers. He found himself on his feet right along with everyone else.

On the third circuit, the woman on the wing climbed back into the cockpit.

Millie flew up for one last loop-the-loop and dropped down for the softest landing he’d ever seen. Relief flooded him seeing her safely on the ground, followed by inexplicable exuberance.

She climbed out of her plane along with the passenger, and they both took a bow. The crowd gave them a roaring standing ovation. He clapped as hard as he could and hooted right along with everyone else. Vera climbed up on the bench so that she could see, leaning on his shoulder for balance.

Millie and her stunt woman bowed again and again. People threw bouquets of flowers onto the field. Millie waved and smiled.

Even with the show over, Ernie’s heart pounded double time. He was lost in the moment, caught up with the crowd. Which was why he failed to object when Vera said she needed Millie’s autograph. Again. She said she had something better than a silly old cocktail napkin for Millie to sign.

Stealing out of their seats as the applause went on, they climbed down and joined a growing line of well-wishers bent on seeing their heroine up close.

He waited in a daze, utterly floored by her performance. Why would she want to fly the mail when she could do this?

But he knew the answer. Impressive as all of this was, she wasn’t setting records. She didn’t only want the adoration of a roaring crowd. She wanted to be remembered. Applause wasn’t enough. She needed to go down in the history books. Just like him. Damn it all.

The line crept forward. Streams of people headed back to their cars.

What was he going to say when he got to the front of the line? How could he possibly explain his presence? And she was bound to give him trouble about Vera, who had been looking at him with worryingly hopeful puppy-dog eyes of late. Despite her protestations to the contrary, she gave every impression that she was hoping for more. But that was something to worry about later.

As they got closer, he decided the best policy was silence. He would let Vera do the talking. Surely, Millie would be kind in her presence. She’d wait until they were in private to give him trouble.

Millie caught his eye as they approached the front of the line, and her eyebrows rose as high as they could go.

Oh, no. This was going to be deeply embarrassing.

He turned his eyes to his shoes.

When it was their turn, Vera strode right up to Millie, waving.

“Hello again, Miss Aldrich! Ernie and I just loved your show. Isn’t he a sweetheart for bringing me?”

Millie’s smile tightened. “He sure is!”

“I know I have that wonderful, autographed napkin already, but would you mind signing this photo of Ernie and me?” She pulled a rigid envelope from her purse and slid a picture from their first date out of it. They were standing in front of an airplane at the county fair, and the stars in Vera’s eyes were unmistakable. This was no good at all. “Make it out to both of us. We’re going to treasure this for the rest of our lives.”

Damn it. He’d tried to pretend he and Vera were on the same page about their relationship, but obviously, they weren’t. There was no ignoring the weight of her expectations now. But he really liked her, and he didn’t want to have to break up with her so soon. And if he did, he’d be proving Millie right, which was unacceptable.

“Of course, Vera,” Millie said with a kindly smile.

“You remembered my name!” She squeezed Ernie’s arm. “Ernie, she remembered me!”

Vera planted an unwelcome kiss on his cheek. Normally, he enjoyed her easy affection, but suddenly, he felt the need to put some distance between them, especially given the judgmental look Millie was currently directing their way.

Vera was oblivious. “Ernie didn’t want to come today, but I dragged him here. I think you managed to impress him, Miss Aldrich, and that’s not easy to do.”

“You flew very well today,” he admitted, grudgingly.

Millie laughed. “High praise.”

She finished signing the photo and handed it back to Vera.

“Can I speak to you a moment in private?” Millie asked him, looking suddenly serious. “It’s about work,” she told Vera.

“Of course,” he answered. “I’ll be just a moment,” he assured Vera.

They took a few steps away, just far enough to whisper without being heard.

“Does she know you don’t have serious intentions? Because she’s obviously got matrimony in mind,” Millie hissed in his ear.

“I told her from the start that I’m not ready to commit, and she said the same. I’m not deceiving her about anything.” Not that it was a good enough defense, but he’d always been forthright.

Millie was too close. He could smell her spicy citrus scent. He could feel a magnetic tug that he didn’t like one bit from her proximity.

“You can’t do this,” Millie said.

“Do what?” As if he didn’t know.

“String her along. I like Vera too much to let her fall prey to a cad like you.”

“This is absolutely none of your business, Miss Aldrich, and I don’t appreciate you involving yourself.”

She leaned in closer. How was a man supposed to keep his composure with such a woman inches from his nose?

“I don’t care how you feel about it. I’m determined to see you do the right thing. I don’t want to see her get hurt like I was.”

He’d had about enough of this conversation. There had to be some way to distract her. “Your public is getting restless.” It was true. The people in line were starting to give them looks.

“This conversation isn’t over.”

“It is as far as I’m concerned.” Enough was enough.

She let out a long breath between her clenched teeth and glanced at the line again. “Fine. I’ll let it go for now. I’ll have to wait until our study session tomorrow to give you a piece of my mind.”

Crap. He’d completely forgotten. “About that. Can we reschedule? I have dinner plans with Vera.”

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to make your excuses and cancel them. There are bigger things at stake here than your dinner date.”

What was she talking about? The only thing at stake was his love life. “You’re ruining a perfectly pleasant evening for me, you know. I won’t forget it.”

“Good. I don’t want you to forget it.”

“I’m finished with this conversation,” he growled, then turned to rejoin Vera.

“What was all that about?” Vera asked, as he returned to her and hurried her back to his Model T.

“She reminded me that I scheduled time with her tomorrow to go over the routes. I’d forgotten. I can’t go to dinner with you tomorrow. I’m sorry. I was really looking forward to it.”

“Poor Ernie.” She reached up and kissed his cheek. “I’ll have to make it up to you next time I see you.”

Guilt churned in Ernie’s belly. “Vera, you know I like you, right?”

“I sure do!” She beamed at him with a worrying dreamy look.

Yup, she was definitely hoping for wedding bells. There was no avoiding it. He had to do the right thing.

All the way to her place, he stewed as he drove. Vera didn’t seem to notice. She spent most of the trip gazing adoringly at the signed photo and humming popular love songs. He was an utter cad. Millie was right. He should have seen the signs sooner. Vera was just so cute and spunky that he didn’t want to see the obvious. She wanted a future that he couldn’t give her because, much as he liked her, he wasn’t in love. And he certainly wasn’t ready to settle down.

They pulled up in front of her apartment building, and he turned to her.

“Vera, I think you’re really swell. I’ve had such a wonderful time on our dates, but…” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words.

Her cute, adoring face fell. “But what, Ernie?”

He really didn’t want to do this, but he had no choice. “I think we should take a break. My flying schedule is getting so busy, and my family needs me at home more. And…I worry that maybe we’re taking things too fast.” He winced as he said it. Her sweet, sassy mouth turned down in a frown. “When we started going out, we said we were going to just have fun and not take things too seriously, but it seems like maybe that’s not the case for you anymore.” He tilted his head toward the photo she was clinging to.

“But Ernie, I thought we had something special together.” A tear trickled down her cheek and then another.

Damnit, he made her cry. “I know. And the right man is going to come along before you know it to sweep you off your feet. You deserve someone who is going to love you with all his heart.”

“And that man’s not you?”

Ernie almost broke at the sight of her sweet, sorrowful, wide-eyed expression, but he had to stay strong. “I’m sorry, Vera. Really, I am.”

“I don’t know what to say, Ernie,” she said after a long silence. She sniffled and turned her face away. “I guess this is goodbye.”

She climbed out of the car before he could open the door for her and fled up the stairs of her stoop without looking at him.

God, he was an absolute prick, wasn’t he? But he’d done the right thing. He had no intention of marrying her, and it was better to end things before she got her hopes up any further than they already were.

At home, alone in his bedroom, he took off his shoes and sat back on the bed. What was he going to do now? He had no doubt Millie meant every word she said about trying to change his ways. It didn’t help that she was absolutely right.

And a damned good pilot.

And devastatingly gorgeous, especially when she was angry at him.

And she smelled really good, though the fact that he had noticed was not a good sign.

Maybe Mr. Dickson had a point. Millie was too much of a distraction. The sooner he got her to quit, the better. She was a danger to his sanity, and he couldn’t afford to soften towards her. He needed to be rid of this woman once and for all. As soon as she was gone from the airmail team, he’d be free again to see who he chose when he chose with no interference.

8

Millie perused her closet, trying to decide which dress was the most somber. She didn’t want Ernie getting any ideas. This was a study session, not a date, even if they were planning to spend hours together in a tête-à-tête. She’d keep everything strictly professional, and if she played her cards right, she’d be able to set him straight about Vera too. Her calf-length navy blue dress with half sleeves and a bateau neckline would do nicely. It was all business. There was no mistaking this dress for something flirtatious.

“That dress makes you look like a military commander,” Beth said when Millie emerged from her room. “Are you sure that’s what you want for a date?”

“It’s not a date.”

“So you’ve told me. But you aren’t fooling me for a minute with your ‘study session.’”

Millie narrowed her eyes at Beth.

“At least let me do your hair,” Beth said. “You can’t be seen in public with it like that.”

She patted her messy bun with wisps falling out and sighed.

“All right. You can do my hair.”

Half an hour later, her hair was sculpted into a finger wave and gathered elegantly at the nape of her neck. Beth finished it off with a blue, beaded ribbon, which Millie took off. It was too flirtatious for sitting and looking at maps.

Was the hairdo too much? It would have to do because it was time to head out. Putting on a coat, she hurried out to her roadster.

The drive and ferry ride passed quickly as she mulled over speeches to give to Ernie about his treatment of poor Vera. Before she knew it, she was pulling into the dirt lot at Heller Airport. Ernie’s Model T was already parked there. He’d beat her there, a fact that shouldn’t have irked her nearly as much as it did.

She made her way to the map room, ready to give him a piece of her mind. As she pulled open the door, she glanced around the small, cozy space with floor-to-ceiling cubbies of maps and papers, seeking out the object of her ire.

Ernie looked up from the pile of maps he’d assembled on the round table at the center of the room, a lock of too-long blond hair falling in front of his impish brown eyes. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his muscular forearms and swallow tattoo. The effect raised the temperature by several degrees, which she was determined to ignore.

She cleared her throat. “Pritchard.”

His lazy smile and annoyingly charming dimples made her stomach somersault. “Miss Aldrich.”

“Just call me Aldrich. You call everyone else by their last names.” And she wanted to be treated like everyone else on the team. She’d never much liked being called “Miss.” It suggested someone prim, proper and coquettish—in other words, someone totally unlike her.

“Sure thing, Aldrich.” He straightened with a flirtatious grin that made her want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.

Hang on a moment. Kiss him?

“Err…tell me about the maps,” she said like an idiot. All her rehearsed speeches about Vera abandoned her as she grappled with the unwelcome tug of Ernie’s smile. No wonder Vera fell for him. “And after that, we’re going to have a little chat about Vera.” After she collected herself a bit and remembered all the scathing things she had to say.

“Whatever you say, Aldrich,” he teased.

God, she liked her last name on his lips a little too much. It was a good thing he was taken and out of her reach.

“But you should know I broke up with Vera after our date.”

Did he just say…? “You broke up with Vera?” Her voice was too high-pitched for her liking. She cleared her throat and lowered it. “Why did you go and do that? I had a whole speech rehearsed about how you should do right by her and settle down.”

She wanted to be angry at him. She wanted to rage and lecture and put him in his place, but one thought obliterated all the others. Ernie is single.

“It wouldn’t have been fair to lead her on. I didn’t feel the same way she did.” He stood straight and cocked his head, challenge written in his eyes.

He didn’t feel the same way she did. Why did that send Millie’s heart soaring? She was supposed to be furious on Vera’s behalf. No possible good could come from mooning over Ernie. Even if he wasn’t a complete cad, there was Mr. Burleson’s order not to fraternize. He was off limits, and that was the end of it.

“Fine,” she said, shoving away unwanted thoughts.

“Fine?” Ernie looked at her like she’d grown another head.

“Yes, fine. I’m letting it drop so that we can focus on what we’re supposed to be doing here. Show me the maps.” It was a transparent diversion, but she hoped that if she looked stern enough, she could pull it off.

Ernie chewed his lip as he stared at her for a long moment. She met his gaze and held it, silently daring him to question her, even though it sent warmth coiling in places she didn’t want it.

At last, he shrugged and pointed down at one of the maps. “Here’s our route from Heller to Chicago. I’ll walk you through it step by step and tell you all the things you won’t find on the map. Do you have a notepad?”

Did she? Checking her purse, she came up empty-handed. Damn it all! How could she forget her notepad?

Ernie smirked. “Don’t worry. See that cubby over there?” He pointed to the far wall. “We’ve got notepads to spare, and the pencils are in the cubby below.”

She narrowed her eyes at him before turning to gather her supplies. The cubbies were low, and she had to bend down to get what she needed. When she turned back around, she caught him looking at her for a split second before he turned his gaze to the ceiling, a faint flush creeping up his neck. If ever she needed proof that he was a cad…

“Eyes here, Pritchard.” She pointed at the map on the table. “We have work to do.”

Ernie cleared his throat and looked down at the map. “Right. Well, this is Heller right here.” He pointed to a tiny, hand-drawn star on the map. “The first leg of the journey is from here to Bellefonte.”

Ernie launched into a detailed description of the route, noting every landmark they would pass. For the most part, they would be following rail lines, but for some stretches, they would follow roads instead, and once they were in the foothills of the Alleghenies, there would be no place to land until Bellefonte. This would be a good test of her navigation and distance-flying skills, which weren’t nearly as well-honed as her barnstorming tricks.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ernie asked as she puzzled over the winding path they would need to take once they reached the foothills. “I know you’re a damned good pilot, but this is a very different set of challenges than you’re used to.”

He wasn’t wrong, and his compliment made her giddier than it should have. But it irritated her that he was trying to dissuade her. “Yes, I’m sure. This should be a piece of cake. Are you worried that I’ll show you up by getting there first?”

“Only if you want to crash into a mountain. There’s no way you could navigate to Bellefonte on your own without following my lead.”

Common sense said he was right, but she didn’t want to concede the point. “I bet I could. After all, somebody had to fly that route for the first time and map it out, so it is possible. If they could do it without a map, I could do it with one.”

It would have been unwise in the extreme for her to attempt to take the lead rather than following Ernie, but the thought of letting him win this argument made her teeth clench.

He leveled a warning look at her. “This isn’t a game, Aldrich. I know we don’t like each other, but that doesn’t mean I want to see you die. Mistakes cost lives. And I’ve been to enough funerals to last a lifetime.” All mischief was gone from his face. His playboy pilot mask had dropped, and grief over lost friends was written in every feature.

He was right, of course. She shouldn’t have even been joking about going rogue. It was heartless, given how much loss he and the other men in the airmail had endured. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll behave.”

At some point soon, she would need to strike out on her own and beat his record but not on her first time flying the route. She needed to know the lay of the land if she wanted to fulfill her deal with Mr. Burleson. But the clock was ticking.

“Good.” Ernie sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, a frown fixed on his usually cheerful face.

“Is this the route you took when you broke the record?” Maybe it would cheer him up to talk about his success. Also, it would be helpful to glean any secrets she could about how he made that flight.

He raised an eyebrow. “Trying to figure out how to one-up me, Aldrich?”

“Always.” She grinned, making the mistake of meeting his gaze again. God, he was obnoxiously handsome.

He sat back and smiled, more than a little heat in his gaze, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “What would you do if you beat me?”

Grab you by the lapels and kiss you into submission, then climb on top of you and ride you into the stratosphere.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

Thinking of Ernie that way would only lead to madness. If he was getting under her skin, it was only because she was readjusting to celibacy after Barney. She’d get used to it in time. After all, she’d been perfectly happy in her solitude before Barney came along. She just needed to focus on her friends and what it would mean to them if she succeeded and opened the airmail to lady pilots. Ernie was off limits.

“I’d go out and celebrate with Katherine and Gertie,” she said at last.

“Right. Your aviatrix friends who think I’m arrogant.” He grinned like it was a compliment.

“They aren’t wrong. You are insufferable.”

“True, but I’m also charming.”

A little too charming. “No, you’re not.”

He shook his head. “Lie all you like, Aldrich. It doesn’t change the fact that you think I’m handsome.”

“Damnit! I was really hoping you didn’t overhear that.” Deep down she knew he had, but she’d wanted so badly to be wrong. “Don’t go reading anything into it. You may have a pretty face, but I judge a man by his actions, not his appearance.”

“Admit it, you can’t resist me.” His smoldering gaze and mischievous grin made her want to throw things at him…or climb over the table and pounce on him. “Aww. Look at that blush. You definitely like me, Aldrich. You just can’t help yourself.”

Enough was enough. “Quit it, Prichard, or you’re going to get us both fired.” She glanced at the door. Mr. Dickson could walk in at any time, as could any of the pilots. It was a minor miracle that they’d had the room to themselves for so long.

“All right. All right. I was just teasing.” He sat back and put his hands up. “I promise never to mention your little schoolgirl crush on me again if you don’t.”

“I don’t have a—” She shut her mouth and narrowed her eyes. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?”

There was no good answer, and her face was so hot that she had to fan herself. “For the love of God, Pritchard, knock it off.” She needed to get away from him, and fast. “I’m going to the breakroom for a drink of water. When I get back, we’re going over the route from Bellefonte to Chicago. Got it?”

Rising without meeting his gaze, she turned and fled the room. Instead of heading for the breakroom, she went to the washroom and locked herself in. Turning on the faucet, she splashed water on her face.

Goddammit. She could not let Pritchard get under her skin like that! If she was being honest with herself, she did have a stupid, schoolgirl crush. He made her pulse race faster than an airplane engine, and it was totally unacceptable. She couldn’t afford to be attracted to Ernie for so many reasons.

First and foremost, the future of women pilots for the airmail, and possibly of the entire airmail operation, depended on keeping her distance. As much as Mr. Burleson needed her, she knew he would throw her out in a hot minute if she broke his rules, ruining women’s chances of flying the mail for years to come. Second, she had sworn off men after things went south with Barney, and she had no desire to entertain an attraction to anyone, least of all Ernie. Third, he was the most insufferable, irritating, arrogant cad she’d ever met, and he was not worth her time.

Drying her face with a towel, she breathed deeply. She could do this. Now that she’d calmed herself, she could get some water, go back into that map room, and finish learning the route. After all, she was a professional, and she had no intention of letting him wind her up like that ever again.

9

Ernie stared at the closed door far longer than he should have.

He knew better than to flirt with Millie, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. She did something to him, and he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. It was too much fun to ruffle her feathers, and she was so magnificent when she got worked up. Moreover, he liked her. She was brave and funny and knew how to put him in his place. Her attraction to him was as flattering as it was obvious. He could only hope he was better at hiding his feelings than she was.

Because she wasn’t wrong about the risks. If Mr. Dickson suspected anything was brewing between them, it would cost them both their jobs. With his whole family depending on him, he could not afford to step out of line.

He rolled up the maps with the route to Bellefonte and pulled out four maps with the route from Bellefonte to Chicago. Flying the mail was a dangerous business, and they both needed to focus if they were going to make it to Chicago safe and sound. Neither of them could afford distraction.

Too bad she was distraction personified. When she’d bent over to get that notepad and pencil, he nearly groaned out loud. Thank goodness he was sitting, and the table hid his reaction. That ass and those gams were going to be the death of him.

And that right there was exactly the kind of thought he couldn’t afford to have.

Keep it professional, idiot. You have responsibilities. Pretend she’s one of the men.

The doorknob turned, and she walked back in, holding two tin cups of water and knocking all his good intentions out of his head. She definitely wasn’t one of the men—not with those mesmerizing, swaying hips.

“Here. I thought you might be thirsty since it’s so warm in here.” She held out a cup and stared him down like she was daring him not to take it.

Damn right he was thirsty, but it had nothing to do with the temperature. Their fingers brushed as he accepted the cup, sending tingles right up his arm.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, averting his gaze. “We should get back to work. I’ve got the maps for the route from Bellefonte to Chicago here. You’ll need to pay close attention. The hardest part of the route is Hell’s Stretch after you leave Bellefonte.”

“Hell’s Stretch?” She took a seat opposite him and leaned over the map. Her subtle scent of soap and lemon stole over him as he leaned closer.

“That’s what we call the route over the Alleghenies. It’s all tree covered, so there’s nowhere to land. And it’s prone to thick fog. We’ve lost more than one good man in Hell’s Stretch.” Zane Erickson and Phillip Cartwright. Sometimes he still expected to see them swaggering through the hangar, even though he’d attended both of their funerals. A lump formed in his throat just thinking of them.

She covered his hand with her own and gave it a little squeeze. “I’m sorry you lost your friends.”

He looked up and met her gaze, the kindness in her eyes melting his pitiful attempt at stoicism.

“Thanks.” It came out in a rough voice, and he swallowed down the lump in his throat.

There was almost nothing left of them after those crashes. For both funerals, the caskets were sealed shut and with good reason. He’d seen his fair share of crash victims during the war and didn’t have to imagine the state of the remains. And now he was supposed to watch Millie risk her life flying that treacherous route. “Pay close attention. I don’t want to lose you too.”

She squeezed his hand again, making his heart ache something awful. “You won’t. I promise.”

Pulling his hand away, he shook his head. “Don’t make promises. It’s bad luck.”

It was tempting fate. They told each other to break a wing or wished each other “death or glory” to stave off the all-too-real possibility that the odds would not be in their favor that day.

She smiled and shook her head. “I hate to break it to you, Pritchard, but you’re stuck with me. I am your bad luck. You think I won’t keep coming back like a bad penny just to spite you?”

He chuckled. “Too true. But don’t lose me after Bellefonte. All right?”

Her expression sobered. “I won’t, but what should I do in the unlikely event that we get separated? I like to know all the contingencies.”

Blowing out his breath between his lips, he stared at the ceiling. “Fine. If it happens, fly up above the cloud cover and steer as straight a course as you can using your compass. Once the clouds pass, pick up your route again if you recognize the landscape. If not, find a field to set down in and call for help.”

“Makes sense. Now show me the route.” She bent over the map, studying the pencil markings, and he did his best to resist the urge to reach out and caress her cheek.

As he walked her through the landmarks she should follow and described the landscape they would traverse, she took meticulous notes. Studious Millie was dangerously endearing, but he kept his focus on her safety. Above all, he couldn’t let anything bad happen to her. It might have been his job to get her to quit, but not at the risk of any harm coming to her. She was his responsibility, and he would do his utmost to see her through this unscathed.

At some point during their review, she pulled her chair over so that she was sitting right next to him. The tension between them stretched taut as the wires on his biplane wings. It was getting hard to form sentences with her so close.

“This tends to be a turbulent patch,” he said, pointing to a particularly tricky stretch over a mountain pass. “If the plane starts to buck underneath you, you’re going to want to grip the stick hard and go faster. But try to take a lighter touch and give it some play while you slow down.”

“Ride it out slow and loose. Got it.”

Why did it sound so dirty when she said it like that?

Her gaze flickered to his, and her cheeks flushed bright red. “The airplane, Pritchard. Get you mind out of the gutter.”

Too late. The mental image of Millie riding him as she gripped his “stick” made his throat go dry. And the fact that her mind had gone to the exact same place only made it worse.

He scooted back and downed the rest of the water in his cup. “I’m going to go get us a refill.”

Grabbing the two tin cups, he fled the room. Christ! He needed to get a grip on himself. She was off limits, no matter what torrid fantasies his brain concocted.

As if he needed a further reminder, Mr. Dickson came striding down the hall toward him. “Pritchard. My office.”

“Yes, sir.” What did Mr. Dickson want this time?

Ernie followed his boss to his pristine office. Every paper on the man’s desk was in a neat pile perpendicular to the edge, as if he’d used a ruler to line them up.

Mr. Dickson took a seat and leaned forward, and Ernie’s stomach clenched as he took the opposite seat, still clutching the two tin cups.

“Why hasn’t she quit yet?” Mr. Dickson narrowed his eyes at Ernie.

Shit. No prevarication then. They were just diving right in. “I’m working on it. I’ve been telling her horror stories about Hell’s Stretch all day.”

And it hadn’t scared her off. That woman had bigger balls than most men he knew. He couldn’t help but admire her bravery.

“Try harder. I’d rather that she quit today and not fly tomorrow. It’s a liability to have a woman up in the air, flying a dangerous route like that. If she crashes, there’s going to be hell to pay in the press.”

That’s what he was worried about? The press? What about Millie’s life? Did the man have no heart? “She’s an excellent pilot. She’ll make it to Chicago just fine.” He crossed his arms and glared at Mr. Dickson, who glowered back at him.

“Watch it, Pritchard. You’re on thin ice. If she doesn’t quit today, she’d better do it soon. I’ll give you two weeks at most to get rid of her, and if you’re not up to it, I’ll find someone else. And I’ll put you on the Boston route. Do I make myself clear?”

Nobody lasted long on the Boston route. They all quit over the miserable weather. It was where management sent pilots they were trying to drum out, and Ernie couldn’t afford that. “Very clear, sir.”

“Good. Now get out of here, and do your job.” Mr. Dickson nodded toward the door.

Squeezing the tin cups so hard he almost dented them, Ernie headed to the breakroom, his mind spinning. How could he get her to quit? Trying to scare her hadn’t worked, nor had appealing to her common sense. Why did she want this so badly? What kept her hanging on despite the dangers?

He refilled the cups and trudged back to the map room, filled with uncertainty. Maybe he needed to understand her better. If he knew what made her tick, it would help him figure out how to get her to move on. Getting closer to Millie was a dangerous game, but maybe it was the best way to find a solution to this impossible situation.

There was a speakeasy not far from the airstrip where he and the boys liked to go for a bit of after-work refreshment. If he took her there and got a drink or two in her, maybe he could get her to confess her reasons for being here. It was risky, but he needed something to go on.

Steeling himself, he headed back into the map room where Millie was bent over the maps, scribbling in her notebook. God, he hated his job right at that moment. It was deeply unfair to try to push her out when she was working so hard to succeed.

He put down the cup beside her. “Say, Aldrich.”

“Hmm?” She turned her big blue eyes on him, and guilt twisted in his stomach.

But he had to do this. “There’s a…um…soda shop near here that sells special sodas. The boys and I go there after work sometimes to unwind. Would you care to join me after we finish up here?”

Millie folded her arms across her chest, narrowed her eyes, and leaned back, looking him up and down. She was onto him for sure. “Are we talking about actual sodas or…special sodas?”

“Special.” He put on his most charming, innocent grin. “Don’t overthink it, Aldrich. You asked me to treat you the same as I would any of the other pilots. I’d offer the same to any rookie pilot sent my way to learn the routes.”

She tilted her head and studied him as if she could read his thoughts.

It took all his concentration to keep his cool.

“All right. I’m in.” She said it like it was a dare. “Just remember I’m one of the boys. It’s a drink with a colleague. No funny business.”

“No funny business. I promise.” He held up his hands and tried to ignore how his heart thudded in his chest with excitement.

“Good. I think I have everything I need for tomorrow’s flight. Shall we pack up and head out?”

They had reviewed every detail of the route several times over. This was as good a time as any. “Sure thing. Let’s go.”

As they put away the maps and headed out to their cars, Ernie did his best to convince himself that this was the right course of action. He was doing this because he had to, not because he wanted to. The part of him that did a little dance when she said yes had to be ignored at all costs. Because going out for drinks with Millie was a dangerous game, one that he couldn’t afford to lose.

10

Millie followed Ernie down the stairs to the speakeasy, ignoring the warning bells going off in her head. This was a terrible idea, and she should never have agreed to it. But it was too late now.

After a few words from Ernie through a black door cracked slightly open, a muscle-bound bouncer in a black suit opened the door, and they entered. Dim, electric sconces along the dark walls provided the bare minimum of light to the crowded speakeasy. Tea lights on the tables bathed everyone in a golden light as a jazz combo played popular tunes on the stage up front.

Ernie led her to a seat at the long, polished-wood bar. He’d shed his jacket, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up, revealing those powerful forearms that she itched to touch.

Good Lord, he was an attractive man. Something inside her did a little flipflop as she took in his movie star silhouette and that unruly blond mop. He leaned against the bar, watching her take her seat, his eyes full of a strange intensity as she settled in.

Focus, Mildred.

His lazy grin was not helping one bit. “Well then, Aldrich, what can I get you?”

“I’ll have a martini, please.”

Yes. Drink. Now.

She was suddenly very warm and couldn’t wait for the cool beverage to slide down her throat.

Ernie flagged down the bartender. “My date will have a martini, and I’ll have a whiskey, neat.”

She elbowed him in the side. Hard. “This isn’t a date, Pritchard.”

“Don’t worry. I was just trying to get a rise out of you.” A twinkle in his eye said otherwise.

“I mean it. You promised no funny business.” Never mind that her body might welcome a bit of funny business. Her brain knew better than to give in.

“All right. All right. I’ll behave.” He winked, and she wanted to smack him. Or climb on top of him. Maybe both.

She needed to steer the conversation to something safer. “Speaking of dates, why exactly didn’t you want to settle down with Vera? I liked her.” She’d been dying to ask but hadn’t dared. But having him call her his date sent her over the edge.

He raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Has anyone ever told you that you are relentless?”

“Everyone, since I was a child,” she said, giving him a level look.

“What a shock.”

Their drinks arrived, and they raised their glasses in silent cheers.

“Vera was cute and sweet. I liked her a lot, but I’m not ready to marry. It’s not her. It’s me. I can’t afford to settle down yet,” he said, then took a sip of his whiskey.

“What do you mean you can’t afford to settle down yet?” She wasn’t about to accept his excuses for his bad behavior.

“My pop had a factory accident eight years ago that chewed up his right arm. He became a preacher, but we could barely get by on what he made. So I had to pick up the slack. The whole family relies on me. I’ve been supporting them all since I was seventeen.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t sure what to say. That was a lot of weight for him to carry on his shoulders. Sympathy seeped into her, diffusing her righteous anger.

He took a long sip of his drink and continued with a frown. “I can’t afford to marry until my sisters are grown and out of the house. In the meantime, all I can do is date women who don’t want more than I can give them. And I don’t see how that’s any of your business. I’m sure God will judge me when the time comes, but the state of my soul is hardly your concern.”

Millie was speechless. He was so close to her that she could feel the heat radiating from him, and his impassioned defense only made him look all the more handsome, which was not helping at all. Was this all another excuse for his bad behavior, or was it true? She didn’t like being wrong, but he seemed so earnest.

“I’m not as concerned with the state of your soul,” she said at last, “as with the young ladies you’ve been dating. Vera got hurt, and I don’t like it.” If she was protesting too much, it was only because she cared about Vera. It had nothing to do with her inconvenient attraction to Ernie. Nothing at all.

“What happened between Vera and me is none of your business. The more you go on about it, the more I think you’re jealous of Vera.” He met her gaze head-on, and one side of his mouth twitched up.

Oh, God. Could he be right?

“No, I’m not,” she sputtered. “I’m just trying to get you to see the error of your ways.”

“Liar.” His smirk widened to a grin.

She gazed into his mischievous brown eyes. Something electric passed between them. She couldn’t have looked away if she tried. The world was reduced to the two of them. They shared a connection so intense she thought they might burst into flame. She was hardly breathing, caught and paralyzed by a mere look.

Suddenly, he blinked and straightened, staring over her shoulder. “Don’t look now, but I think we have company. Walton and Andrews just walked in. Keep your head down. I don’t want them to think we’re here on a date and tell Mr. Dickson. If he hears about this, there will be hell to pay.”

“But this is not a date, as we’ve discussed.” She took another sip of her martini, ignoring the little voice inside her insisting that it was, no matter what she said.

He frowned. “You think Mr. Dickson is going to believe that?”

She let out a long, slow breath. “No. You’re right. I’ll keep my head down.”

“They just sat down in a booth. I think we’re safe now.”

Straightening, she took another sip of her martini. Mr. Dickson was the least of her problems. If word got back to Mr. Burleson of anything that sounded like fraternization, she was finished, and so were her dreams of opening the airmail to lady pilots. To calm her nerves, she turned the conversation to focus on Ernie. “When did you learn to fly? Was it during the war?”

“Yes. I volunteered for the Air Service immediately when I signed up. I’ve always been fascinated by airplanes, and when would I get another opportunity to learn to fly for free? It turned out I had a knack for it. I have a good memory for landscapes and directions, which served me well on the front. You wouldn’t believe how many pilots we lost because they couldn’t find their way back to base after a fight. And I was lucky.” He took another drink of his whiskey. “What about you?”

“I learned to fly almost as soon as I was big enough to work the controls. I was fourteen the first time I flew.”

“Fourteen?” His eyes widened. “With all that experience, what made you decide you wanted to fly the mail?”

She shrugged. “I needed a new challenge. I was tired of barnstorming and wanted to learn distance flying. The airmail seemed like a good way to do it.” That was as much as she could give away. Her deal with Mr. Burleson had to remain secret.

“A challenge.” He narrowed his eyes and frowned. “You think this is all a game? Something to do because you’re feeling bored? The rest of us are out there risking our necks to feed our families, and you’re doing it for a kick?”

“I’m doing it to become a better pilot and to prove that a woman can do this successfully.” That was the truth, if only part of it.

Ernie shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. “You are unbelievable. You’re risking your neck in a whole new way just to prove a point?”

“Let me ask you this,” she said. “Would you question a man taking this job to prove a point?”

He laughed. “No man in his right mind would take this job if he didn’t need it.”

“Are you sure? Do you know for certain that all your colleagues are living paycheck to paycheck and not one of them has independent means?”

He pursed his lips. They were nice lips, very kissable, and she absolutely shouldn’t have been thinking about them or staring at them.

“Any man who takes this job out of anything other than necessity has a screw loose, and I would question whether he should be flying.”

The way he looked at her made her stomach flip. If she didn’t know better, she might have suspected him of caring what happened to her.

“At least you are consistent and think the same standard should apply to men and women,” she said after a deep sip of her martini. “So, if I needed this job to survive, you would feel differently about my flying?”

He shrugged. “I have nothing against women flying. I even think you’re an excellent pilot. I just don’t like women putting themselves at risk. If you needed this job to survive, I would still argue there were other options and that it’s too dangerous.”

That was rich! She laughed and laughed. “And that just goes to prove you know nothing about women at all.”

“I know more than enough about women,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Says the man who thinks the women he’s dating don’t mind being used and discarded like yesterday’s newspaper.”

He stiffened. “Look, I broke up with Vera so that I wouldn’t be misleading her about my intentions. And I’m here having drinks with you instead of enjoying a night out on the town because you asked me to treat you like one of the men. But if you’re waiting for me to say I’m supportive of you flying the mail, that day will never come. It’s not because you aren’t a good pilot. You are. And you have more flying experience than me. It’s because I don’t want to go to your funeral. It would wreck me to see you come to harm.”

Her heart melted a little at his words. He really did care about her, even if his protectiveness was misguided. “What happened to ‘death or glory’?”

“You don’t need to risk death to find glory. You’ve already found it. You have fame, wealth, acclaim. You don’t need to do this.” He punctuated each “you” with a finger tapping on the table.

“But I do. Not for the same reasons as you. You’re right, I don’t need to do this to survive or support a family. But I do need it. Challenges are what make life worth living. There’s something deep inside me that craves them. I don’t know why, but it’s who I am. If I don’t have a challenge to overcome, I’m lost. And I’ll tell you what. When you argue, it only makes me want this more. It makes the challenge richer and victory sweeter.”

Millie stared at her drink, worried that perhaps she’d been a bit too honest. She was wearing her emotions on her sleeve, and no good could come of that.

Every time their eyes met, something stirred inside her, and she didn’t like it one bit. She knew what these stirrings meant. Barney made her feel those same things not so long ago. And look what that had gotten her.

Men and their wiles. She was finished with them, no matter how her heart might betray her in Ernie’s magnetic presence. And there was far too much at stake for them both if they gave in.

“I think I should head home. It’s a long trip back to Manhattan, and we have to get up early tomorrow to fly. Thanks for the drink.” It was time to get out of here before she did something she regretted.

“It’s the best non-date I’ve ever had, despite the company.” She knew from his smile that he was teasing her.

“So rude!”

Still smiling, he shook his head. “All you’ve done is argue with me the whole time.”

“There were moments of civil small talk. I enjoyed learning about your family, for instance.”

“Can we end the evening civil, do you think?” He raised his glass. “Truce?”

She smiled back at him and raised her nearly empty glass. “Truce.”

She watched as he raised his glass to his lips and let out a quiet “mmm.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Oh, she had it bad.

In one gulp, she drank down the last of her martini, wishing it would drown out the giddy sensation she couldn’t escape when he was near.

He stood up and offered his arm. She took it with some trepidation. It was no good being so close to him. It set her body aflame in ways she swore she’d never allow again after Barney. There was nothing to do but ignore it as best she could.

She walked with him to the door, keeping an eye on the booth where their colleagues sat. Oh, no! They were getting up.

She leaned close to Ernie and whispered, “Don’t look now, but I think your friends are leaving. Let’s walk fast and see if we can lose them.”

As soon as they were out the door, they hurried to the nearest alley. He shielded her from view with his body as brisk footsteps passed them by. They waited together for a long moment, hardly breathing, her face inches from his chest. The tug between them that she’d been trying to ignore was almost painful with him up against her.

The footsteps retreated and disappeared into the night.

“You’re too close,” she said, not retreating an inch.

“Much too close,” he agreed without stepping back. His scent washed over her—soap and aftershave and man. It went straight to her head.

“You should step back,” she said, leaning in closer, making the mistake of looking up at his face. His eyes flickered with heat. Her gaze dipped to his lips. That was a mistake. They were right there…

“We both should. Why haven’t you?” His ragged breath ruffled through her hair.

“Why haven’t you?”

She stared at his lips, leaning in, caught up in forces beyond her control. “You are impossible. Do you know that, Ernie? You are⁠—”

Her lips collided with his. Oh, no. He kissed her back, hard and demanding, and she answered with equal fire. The taste of him was intoxicating—whiskey and desire. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she parted for him, allowing him to deepen his kiss and meeting him with equal fervor.

She couldn’t be doing this. It was exactly the opposite of what she intended. She’d set out to reform him, and now she’d succumbed to him. And oh, God, surrender tasted sweet. She kissed him more furiously, as if trying to gain the upper hand. Could a kiss have a winner? If so, she was determined to emerge victorious.

No. This was madness. She had to stop. It was delirious, delicious madness. His tongue twined with hers, and she was lost. All her good intentions washed away in a wave of sensation.

His hands pressed her tight against him. She could feel the hard muscles of his chest, and the hard… Oh, my. She was almost disappointed that he didn’t run a hand up her skirt as Barney would have done. Almost.

The thought of Barney brought some sanity at last, and she tore herself away, panting.

Ernie stood back and gasped for air. His eyes were dark with desire, and he looked at her like a hungry, ravening beast.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “This can’t happen again. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Without waiting for a reply, she escaped to the street and rushed to her car, leaving him behind in the alley.

The trip home was a blur. When she arrived at her apartment, she fervently hoped Beth was either out or asleep already. Millie didn’t think she could face her just yet.

What was she thinking kissing Ernie? Did she want to be his next toy? Because that was what she just became. It was a mistake. A terrible one. And if anyone found out, she’d lose the chance to bring more women into airmail jobs, not to mention risk the future of the entire airmail operation.

Beth was right. About everything.

She opened the door to the apartment and there was Beth, waiting expectantly, martini in hand. “So, how was your date?”

Looking around the room for answers, she spotted Beth’s glass and blurted out, “Martini.”

Beth’s eyebrows shot up.

“I need a martini before I tell you.”

Millie clumsily went through the motions of making herself a drink, wondering how long she could stretch it out before her friend became suspicious.

The drink was finished. She took a long, deep sip.

A half-smile curled Beth’s lip. She thought this was funny, damn it all.

Millie took another swig and knew she could delay no more. “It was a nightmare. We fought the whole time.” Largely true, minus a few details. “He took me to a speakeasy after we finished going over the route.”

“Heavens! He must really like you.”

He did. That was the problem.

“I think he felt obligated because I asked him to treat me like one of the men.” It was a sweet gesture. And truth be told, she enjoyed it despite the bickering.

“He might. Or he might have had designs on you.”

Millie froze. Was it possible he set out to seduce her? In the moment, she would have sworn he was as surprised by their kiss as she was, but maybe he was deliberately toying with her as revenge for her interference. Or maybe he was trying to get her in trouble so that she’d get fired? No. This was all ridiculous speculation. He couldn’t possibly have planned that kiss.

“I’m fairly certain he thinks I’m a terrifying virago,” she lied.

“Well, you are, my dear.”

“Thank you. I work hard to uphold my reputation.”

They laughed and clinked glasses.

“And how is your plan going?” Beth asked with a pointed look. “Has he reformed his wicked ways?”

Millie did her very best not to wince. “Yes and no. He broke up with Vera. I was angry at him for it, but not as much as I should have been.”

“Hmm.” Beth’s self-satisfied grin worried Millie. “I think I’d like to propose an amendment to our bet.”

“Oh?” What was Beth up to?

“I bet that if he does follow through, it will be because he’s interested in you. I propose we make your winning contingent on your not being romantically involved with him.”

Millie took a deep drink to hide her discomfort. As usual, Beth saw far more of the truth that Millie would like. She both loved and hated this about her friend. “You’re on. There isn’t a chance in hell he’s interested in me.”

Lies. All lies. Mildred, you’ve already lost this bet. What are you agreeing to?

But then the agreement was going forward from this point. If nothing further happened, technically she still won. Beth never needed to know about the kiss, right? It was outside the parameters of the bet and therefore none of her business. All Millie had to do was make sure she and Ernie never touched again. Easy.

11

That kiss. Ernie stood frozen in the alley long after Millie left, wondering what had come over him. Never had he felt like that. He had kissed his fair share of beautiful women. Some of those kisses were intense and passionate. Nothing prepared him for kissing Millie Aldrich.

That kiss shook him to his core. It robbed his mind of reason. It sent him soaring into the heavens. And for God’s sake, it was Millie Aldrich!

He could just imagine Mr. Dickson’s reaction if he found out there was anything going on between the two of them. He’d be fired on the spot.

This whole business was a disaster waiting to happen, and yet all he could think in the aftermath was, When can I kiss her again? When could he taste her, feel her pressed up against him, touch her softness, which was so at odds with her feisty personality? She was a study in contradictions with the personality of a porcupine and the sensuousness of a cat. Never had another woman melted so absolutely in his arms, tasted him with such desperation, or left so him helpless with wanting.

Ernie needed to seal this memory up, quarantine it, and never revisit it. Nothing could come of this. In the morning, he and Millie would have to pretend nothing happened and keep a safe distance from each other.

Composing himself, he left the alley where he’d been hiding and walked to his car. The drive home to Brooklyn was mercifully quick, and before he knew it, he was sneaking up the steps to his bedroom, hoping nobody noticed the late hour of his arrival.

As he passed the sitting room, though, he heard the steady clackity clack of a typewriter. Constance. She shouldn’t be working herself this hard, staying up late doing homework. He stepped into the sitting room, and she looked up.

“I thought it was you. Who else would sneak into the house at this hour?” she said with a smile.

“A thief? I suppose I’m lucky you didn’t bludgeon me over the head with a poker.”

She laughed and shook her head. “How was your date?”

“What makes you think it was a date?” She couldn’t possibly know. She must be guessing.

“Isn’t it always a date?”

“Not always. Sometimes I go out with friends. Sometimes I go out to hear a band I like.” He had other pursuits besides chasing skirts.

“And by the end of the night, you have a lady on your arm every time, I’m certain. You’re a rascal, you know that, Ernie?”

He took a deep breath. “I am, but I’d rather my sister didn’t know that.”

“As if you could hide it from me.”

He never was any good at hiding from Constance. Her kind and gentle demeanor belied her sharp, inquisitive brain. Constance never missed a thing.

“Ernie, don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“Of what?” He took a seat on the sofa.

“Of stringing along these poor young ladies that lose their hearts to you. Don’t you ever think about doing the right thing and settling down?”

He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, searching for an answer that wasn’t sharp or flippant. “You know I can’t afford a wife right now.”

“That’s nonsense. Of course, you can afford a wife.” She turned away from her typewriter to look at him. “Don’t you dare use your family as an excuse for being a cad.”

“I can’t afford another household until you and the twins are independent.”

She crossed her arms. “Who said anything about another household? What’s wrong with bringing her here?”

Oh, so many things. More than he could list. How could he make love to a woman while in the same household as his sisters? How could he subject a woman to the constant chaos that reigned here? What woman would want to share her household with her in-laws?

“A new wife would expect a home of her own. Why would she want to move in with a house full of people she barely knows?”

“If she marries you, we’ll hardly be strangers. You may carry on your affairs in secret, but when it comes to matrimony, I fully expect you to bring her around so that we can get to know each other before you tie the knot. If she’s not a match for us, she’s not a match for you, regardless of the finances.”

Dear God, did she think he would ask for their approval before proposing? “Constance, if I decide to marry, I’m not giving you and the rest of the family veto power. It’s my choice who I want to spend my life with.”

“And you love your family. We’re a part of your life, whether you like it or not. And I know deep in my heart there isn’t anything you wouldn’t do for us. That’s what makes you the very best of brothers. I’m not demanding that you seek our approval. I’m merely observing that you would never marry without it, not because of us but because of you.”

As she said it, he knew it was true. He could never bring himself to tie the knot with someone who would be at odds with his family. They meant too much to him. He could hardly imagine life on his own without them. But none of this mattered because he wasn’t anywhere near ready to marry.

“This theory of yours is all well and good, but I have yet to meet the magical creature that stirs my heart and passes muster with you. And until I do, I’d prefer to keep my private life to myself.”

She sighed. “Fine. Suit yourself.” She turned back to her typewriter. “I have homework to finish.”

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow? It’s late.”

“I would, but apparently my lack of independence is standing in the way of my brother’s behaving like a gentleman. The sooner you’re free of me, the better for everyone. And so, I must finish my homework.” She turned her back on him and started typing again.

Women. They were going to be the death of him.

In the morning, Ernie was at Heller Airport early. He wanted to be out the door and up in the air as quickly as possible. Up in the air, he was safe and alone. There was no pretense to uphold, no risk to fend off. On the ground, a whole host of pressures plagued him as he braced himself for the awkwardness of seeing Millie again. Yes, the sooner they were off the ground, the better.

Right on schedule, Millie appeared at the hangar. For a moment, their eyes met, and then they both quickly looked away. He was glad to see she’d dressed for the weather. If the flights to Philly and DC had been chilly, the flights to Chicago, with stops in Bellefonte, Pennsylvania and Cleveland, Ohio, were downright arctic. She wore a thick, fur-lined peacoat, heavy woolen trousers, her usual fur-lined aviator cap, and a thick, cashmere scarf. That should go far toward keeping her warm beneath the leather aviator suit. At least, he hoped—he didn’t need to worry about her succumbing to frostbite.

They avoided each other as they performed final checks on their airplanes, readied themselves, and donned their aviator suits. At last, they were ready and could avoid each other no more.

Striding over to her as she stood in her oversized leather suit beside her plane, he cleared his throat. “Aldrich, are you ready to leave?”

Her eyes snapped to his, wide with alarm. Then she schooled her expression into one of cool professionalism. “Yes, I’m ready.”

He nodded and turned on his heel without looking back. The less he spoke to her, the better.

Several minutes later, he was on the runway at Heller, preparing for takeoff. He went faster and faster, the autumn wind whipping against his face, and then lift-off. He was airborne, free, safe. Now all he had to do was navigate to Bellefonte, not the easiest of journeys, for which he was grateful. He needed the distraction of the Allegheny foothills today. Anything that would keep his mind from wandering to the woman in the airplane behind him. Speaking of which, he should have checked on her post takeoff.

He turned in his seat and glanced back. Sure enough, she was behind him, following at a safe distance. He nodded and turned his attention back to the flight ahead, ignoring the thread of awareness that was now tied to her.

What a relief it was to be back in the air. All his troubles were down on the ground. Except the one that was tailing him. And even she was at some remove.

It was good to have some physical distance between them because his thoughts were far too occupied with her. He couldn’t stop reliving that kiss and dreaming about what might have come next if she hadn’t put a stop to things. In his mind’s eye the scene melted from the alley to an elegant hotel room because, of course, he would bring her to the nicest place in town, expense be damned. He’d have taken his time peeling that dreadful navy-blue dress off her petal-soft shoulders, tasting her sweetness as the cloth slipped to the floor.

He’d have slipped between her silky thighs and sunk into her heat, making her forget there was anyone else in the world besides him. Because he wanted all her fire, all her passion, all her spirit focused on him. And he never wanted to let go.

Never? That couldn’t be good.

Quarantine. Cut it off. Seal it up. He felt nothing at all for Millie Aldrich, damn it. Nothing at all.

Focusing on his instruments, he managed to rein in his thoughts. Mostly. Distractions at this altitude were deadly, and he couldn’t afford to make a mistake, especially with her following.

The flight went smoothly from New York to where the rolling hills began. As they soared over the foothills, though, puffy cotton-ball clouds gathered on the horizon. A storm must have been on its way. They were going to be in a heap of trouble if they didn’t beat it to Bellefonte.

Ignoring the chill, Ernie kept a close eye on the maps, the compass and the skies, determined to make it safely to their first stop. There would be no avoiding Millie in the tiny town of Bellefonte, but he could only tackle one problem at a time. First, he needed to get them down on the ground before the weather turned.

12

Millie didn’t like the look of those skies one bit. If she had been preparing for a show, she’d have cancelled. But they were already in the air over the Alleghenies, and there was no choice but to continue. The puffy cotton-ball clouds gave way to storm clouds, and she began to hit pockets of low pressure that jolted the plane.

Keeping Ernie’s plane in sight in front of her, she flew toward the brewing storm. Meanwhile, she attempted to keep track of any hint of a landmark on the monotonous rolling foothills of the Alleghenies. A stretch of road here, and oddly shaped farmer’s field there, electrical wires over there… She would have to fly back over this terrain without losing her bearings, and she couldn’t afford to miss a single detail. Fortunately, the notes in her trusty notebook hadn’t let her down. Ernie had been an excellent teacher, loathe though she was to allow him in her thoughts at all.

The cold bit into her as she flew. She wrapped her cashmere scarf around her face, over her nose, so that none of her skin was exposed to the freezing air. Even with all her fur and leather and her thick wool undergarments, she could not keep warm. If only she’d stuck with barnstorming, she wouldn’t be subjecting herself to these discomforts. But no, she had to push further and harder, break precedents and records. Millie Aldrich was never content and complacent. She always had to push the limits.

Somehow, she had to be worthy of her own success. Growing up with so little, her current circumstances were embarrassingly comfortable. How could she justify having so much when others had so little? The best way she could think of was to fight for women’s rights and make sure they had a chance to fly the mail the same as any man. She owed it to her sisters in the skies.

After things went south with Barney, she threw herself back into her performances, but the press was brutal. When are you going to stop performing and focus on finding someone to settle down with like a real woman? more than one reporter asked. That was the end of her barnstorming. Her aerial acrobatics hadn’t earned respect. She had to try something bolder and more meaningful.

Not marriage. Why would she want it? The only reason she’d agreed to it with Barney was that he promised her a life of adventure. He wanted to travel all over the world with her, or so he said. And he was fun in bed. If only he didn’t have a wandering eye.

Bastard.

Well, she would show him and all the other men too. A woman could support herself and push boundaries every bit as well as a man, given the chance. She didn’t need a man in her life. She could fly the mail and stand on her own two feet. And when she’d mastered distance flying, she’d go about setting some records, just like Katherine Stinson. The world of aviation was brand new, and the possibilities were endless. Anyone with the right skills and enough gumption could set a new distance record. There were so many places that airplanes hadn’t even been yet.

A fierce jolt brought her back from her reverie. Storm clouds roiled before her. A bolt of lightning lit the sky. A light powder of snow began to fall. Her hands were glued to the stick as she tried to ride out the turbulence as best she could. She knew the more she fought it, the worse her airplane would handle. She had to let the airplane be tossed like a leaf in the wind, as long as she maintained her direction and speed.

Ernie was faring no better. His plane bucked and plunged in front of her, keeping as steady of a course as possible toward their destination. They had to be close by now. She checked her fuel levels. They were low but still adequate to put down, provided they could find the runway in this weather.

The landscape blurred as the snow flurries grew stronger. She could still see Ernie’s plane just ahead, but it was growing fuzzier by the minute. They had to set down.

Please let Bellefonte be close. Please, please, please.

Following Ernie down as low as she dared, she spotted a blessed strip of road. Careful to stay high enough not to clip any power or telephone lines, she and Ernie followed that road until Thank God! The town came into view.

She circled as she watched him come in for a landing. It wasn’t pretty. The wind and turbulence had him wobbling until his wheels touched down, but he made it in one piece.

As soon as he was safely in the hangar, she made her own approach. A thin dusting of snow carpeted the runway. It blew in swirls and eddies as she made her final approach. The wind buffeted and tried to knock her off course, but she fought to keep the plane level. The ground approached. The moment of truth. One wheel touched down and then the other. Then a gust lifted her back up a few feet. Her hands like claws on the controls, she touched down again, and this time she stayed and rolled to a bumpy halt.

She was safe.

Prying her frozen fingers from the controls, she flexed them to regain movement before taxiing over to the hangar.

Ernie was there to meet her as she stepped down from the plane. She hoped he didn’t notice the way her knees were wobbling.

“A bit of a bumpy ride there, eh?”

That was an understatement. She gave him a “go away” glare.

“Of course, you had it well in hand the whole way, didn’t you, Aldrich?”

“Of course.” She stripped off her gloves and rubbed her hands together to return circulation. Then she slid her wet goggles up onto her head. Snow filled each crevice in her attire and stuck to her scarf, making it wet.

“Let’s head to the Brockerhoff Hotel and warm up, shall we?”

Her nostrils flared. “I am not spending my evening with you.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have much choice. This is a small town. The Brockerhoff is the only place to go.”

Ugh. This was why she hated small towns. There was no privacy whatsoever. She much preferred the anonymity of a big city.

“Fine.” She grabbed her ditty bag and followed him through the snow, which only seemed to be getting heavier.

“Isn’t it early in the year for a snowstorm?” she asked.

Ernie shrugged. “I’ve seen October storms before. It happens. Might make things dicey tomorrow, though. I don’t like the thought of flying Hell’s Stretch in this weather.”

She was grateful that her scarf hid her gulp. Flying terrain like that in the current weather sounded like suicide. Surely, they would be grounded if the storm continued. They couldn’t be expected to fly during a snowstorm, could they? But she stayed silent.

After shedding their leather suits in the locker room, they shuffled over to the warm and welcoming Brockerhoff Hotel. It was larger than she expected—four stories tall with an imposing slate mansard roof. As they walked through the lobby, delicious smells wafted from the restaurant. Good. She was starving.

The surroundings were a touch more elegant than she was expecting, and she suddenly felt embarrassed about how rumpled and ridiculous she must look. The man at the front desk didn’t blink an eye, though.

“Two rooms, please, Mr. Dunston.” Clearly, Ernie had been here enough to know the staff by name.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Pritchard. The hotel is booked up because of the harvest festival this weekend. We only have one room available. It has two twin beds. Surely, you and your colleague can share.”

Oh, no. Mr. Dunston must think I’m a man. After all, she was wrapped up head to toe and was wearing trousers.

She took off her hat and goggles and pushed down her scarf. Mr. Dunston’s eyes went wide. “I’m afraid one room simply won’t do.”

“And I’m equally sorry that it’s all we have to offer.”

Attempting to keep calm, she turned to Ernie. “Are there any other hotels here in town?”

He looked as shocked as she felt. “I wish there were.”

“I can ask around to see if someone in town will put one of you up at their house,” Mr. Dunston offered.

“I would be very grateful,” Millie said, relief flooding through her.

“In the meantime, I’ll take that room if you please,” said Ernie, then turned to her. “One of us needs to take it, and until we have another solution, at least it gives us a place to put down our things and get changed.”

She nodded. It was sensible. Better one room than nothing.

Mr. Dunston handed Ernie the key.

“Thanks, Mr. Dunston. Aldrich, why don’t you go up first. I’ll grab myself a nice hot cup of coffee while you change.”

Ernie handed the key to Millie. Their fingers brushed, and warmth tingled through her that had nothing to do with blood flow returning to her extremities. She walked as quickly as decorum would allow over to the stairs.

What a relief it was when the door closed behind her, and she was out of Ernie’s presence. Climbing to the third floor, she tried not to panic. One room. There had to be another option. Surely, someone had an extra room where one of them could stay for the night.

She made her way to number 316 and opened it up to find a charming space, painted in cream with dark wood furniture and accents. Sunny yellow curtains hung at the window, and matching bedspreads covered the two beds, which were practically buried in pillows. Walking over to the window, she looked out at the swirling snow and the picturesque town, her stomach twisted in knots. This weather was no good. Nor was this room situation.

Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that warm, delicious food awaited downstairs. All she had to do was change her clothes.

Shedding her coat, hat, and scarf, she hung them up in the spacious wardrobe. Then she looked through her ditty bag and pulled out a serviceable light blue dress. It was a bit rumpled from being rolled up in her bag, but it couldn’t be helped. She put a dark blue wool cardigan on over it, needing an extra layer despite the warmth of the hotel. Wrangling her hair into a loose, low bun, she looked at herself in the mirror. Beth would never approve her rumpled appearance, but Beth wasn’t in Bellefonte. Besides, there was no one here she was looking to impress.

Heading downstairs, she spotted Ernie across the dining room, sipping a cup of coffee as he read the paper. A lock of blond hair fell into his face, and she had an overwhelming urge to tuck it away.

Her cheeks heated as she stopped in front of him at his table and put down the key. No need to risk another touch.

“Care to join me for a cup of coffee?” he asked, as if she would ever contemplate sitting at the same table as him again.

“No, thank you. I’m only handing off the key.”

“Shall I join you for dinner when I come back down?”

No. Absolutely not. “I think it’s best if we keep our distance.”

“As you wish.”

He picked up the key and headed off. She flagged down a waiter and was soon seated at the opposite end of the room. The least she could do was stay away from him for the evening. After that… She’d figure that out later.

13

One room. How could there only be one room?

The snow outside was so thick, Ernie could barely see across the street. He changed into a clean shirt. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would bump into someone he knew downstairs and would have some distraction for the evening. There were usually two or three pilots hanging around. Anything to avoid Millie with her soft curves and her smart mouth and her pink lips and her…

Shaking himself, he headed down to the dining room, scanning for familiar faces. He could feel her presence in the far corner and avoided turning his gaze that way. On the opposite side of the dining room, he spotted his friend, Jack. Good. Jack would be able to occupy his attention and keep him from dwelling on things he shouldn’t.

“Jack, you old devil. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Ernie! Have a seat.” Jack gestured to the seat across from him. “Nice weather we’re having, eh?”

Ernie sat. “Perfect for a picnic, I’d say.”

Jack chuckled. “What do you think the odds are we’ll be grounded tomorrow? I myself wouldn’t mind an extra night of Bellefonte hospitality.”

“You know there’ll be hell to pay if we don’t make it off the ground.”

Jack made a dismissive motion with his hand. “I’m not letting some bureaucrat sitting cozy in his office tell me to fly into certain death. It’s a good job, but it’s not worth dying for.”

“Agreed.” A thought occurred to him. “Say, Jack, I don’t suppose you have an extra bed in your room I could sleep on?”

“Afraid not. I’m already sharing the room with Turk Bird. Why do you ask? Looks to me like you’ve got a room key in your hand there.”

Did Ernie dare explain his current predicament? No, there was too much at stake. Best not to speak, even to Jack.

“My room is drafty. I thought I’d see if there was a better option.”

Jack appeared to accept the explanation. “Is that Miss Aldrich I spy over there in the corner?”

Damn. Ernie hoped she’d go unnoticed. “It is. I’m showing her the route to Chicago. Mr. Dickson is hoping it’ll scare her away.”

“Not much chance of that, I’m guessing. She doesn’t seem like the sort that scares easy.”

No, she did not. Still, the flight to Cleveland might put the fear of God in her. If that didn’t do it, nothing would. “And I thought my sisters were bold. Millie Aldrich is unbelievable. I’ve never met a woman like her.”

“Speaking of your sisters, how are they?”

What Jack really wanted to know was how was Constance, but he thought Ernie hadn’t noticed the way he looked at his sister since his break-up with Myrtle. Jack could look all he wanted as long as he didn’t do anything about it. The last thing Ernie wanted for Constance was for her to fall for a pilot. And especially not Jack.

Constance thought Ernie didn’t know she was sweet on Jack when they were young, but he’d stolen her diary once and learned how heartbroken she was that his best friend didn’t notice her. He’d wanted to find something juicy to tease her about, and he’d found it. But reading her confessions just made him feel awful, so he put it back and never told. And though he never let on that he knew, he’d kept an eye on those two ever since. Jack Thompson was not going to break his sister’s heart.

“They’re doing well. Constance only has two more months of secretarial school, and she studies and practices nonstop. Verity still wants to outdo Galileo with her astronomical discoveries, and Prudence hasn’t given up on her amateur Pinkerton nonsense. I don’t know where my sisters got their outlandish ideas. Must be from reading about women like Millie Aldrich.”

Ernie hazarded a glance in Millie’s direction. Their gazes met for a moment, and he looked away quickly. He could feel the tug of her presence from all the way across the room. Even that brief glance caused a twitch in his nether regions.

Oh, the things he would like to do with Millie. He could almost feel the ghost of her nails as they dug into his back, the desperate clenching within her as he brought her to her peak. All that fire, all that feistiness, sublimated into passion.

She was a danger to his sanity and to be avoided at all costs.

“I don’t know,” said Jack. “Maybe it’s best for all of us if women learn to be independent. They wouldn’t need to be so calculating and mercenary about men if they had their own means of support. Maybe then they wouldn’t abandon us for the first rich man that crossed their path.”

Poor Jack. He still wasn’t over Myrtle. It had to hurt to lose his fiancée to a banker.

“Or maybe they wouldn’t need us at all. Maybe they would abandon the male sex completely.”

Jack laughed. “By that logic, men should have abandoned women because we don’t need them to support us. Have you given up women because you have a job?”

“Fair point.”

A waiter stopped by and took their orders. Ernie ordered his usual steak.

“Marriage should be about finding somebody to love,” said Jack. “Instead, it’s become a cutthroat competition for a woman to find someone to wrap her in diamonds, and it’s disgusting. Yes, I think we’d all be better off if women made their own money and didn’t evaluate us on the size of our bank accounts.”

Ernie shook his head. He knew his friend had a particular ax to grind. “I don’t mind a lady of independent means. I respect working women. But I think certain professions aren’t suited to women, especially those that involve risking life and limb. Women shouldn’t be soldiers or police officers, nor should they fly the mail. I can’t stand to see them put themselves in danger like that. It’s man’s nature to protect, and every bone in my body rebels against putting them in harm’s way.”

“And yet tomorrow, you’ll be flying with Millie Aldrich over Hell’s Stretch in the worst weather I’ve seen yet during my time with the airmail.”

Indeed. And he hated it. The only way he could justify it to himself was by convincing himself it would get her to quit. He could put her in danger once for the sake of saving her from years of future danger. And he could mitigate that danger with his own flying, keeping her on track through the worst of it. “I’m dreading it.”

Ernie glanced over at her again, and she was absorbed in her dinner. She looked so slight and vulnerable over there in her blue dress. The thought of flying Hell’s Stretch with her in the morning filled him with almost as much dread as the prospect of sharing a room. For all her fire, she was a mere wisp of a woman. He couldn’t stand the thought of her coming to harm.

“But I’ll get her through safe. I won’t let anything happen to her,” Ernie said as their food arrived.

“I know,” said Jack before digging into his chicken pot pie.

For several minutes, they ate in silence. The food warmed him and took away the last vestiges of chill from their flight in. He understood why Bellefonte was a favorite stop for many of his fellow pilots. The people were friendly and welcomed the airmail pilots like family. The food was good, especially the pies. No one skipped dessert at the Brockerhoff. Bellefonte wrapped you in a warm blanket after a long, cold journey from New York or Cleveland.

He chanced another glance at Millie. She appeared to be reading a book while she drank a cup of coffee. What would a woman like Millie read? Technical manuals? Romance novels? Adventure stories?

She looked up and caught him staring. His cheeks heated as he turned abruptly back to his steak.

“Is something going on between you two?” Jack was giving him a funny look.

Uh oh. He’d been too obvious.

“Between who?” Ernie asked, all innocence.

“You and Miss Aldrich.”

“No. Nothing at all. Why do you ask?” He was grinning too widely, wasn’t he? Something was wrong with his face.

Jack was still staring at him with wide eyes. “You keep looking over at her and turning red. Something is going on.”

Ernie cleared his throat. “No. Nothing. We can’t stand each other, actually.”

“Maybe that was true when you met, but not anymore. There is definitely something brewing between you two.”

“There’s nothing going on, I swear.”

Jack put down his fork. “I don’t believe you. You think you can fool me? I’ve known you since we were both in diapers. Those looks you’re giving her mean something.”

Was Ernie so transparent? “Can you drop it, Jack? I don’t have anything to say about Millie Aldrich.”

Shifting back, Jack crossed his arms. “Is Mr. Dickson the reason you’re not telling me? You know I won’t say a word to Mr. Dickson or anyone else for that matter. I’m not O’Donnell, for heaven’s sake.”

No, he wasn’t O’Donnell. Ernie had no particular reason to mistrust Jack other than general embarrassment. And he needed to unburden himself to someone. “Fine. You want to know? I’ll tell you.”

And so, he did. He told Jack about the study session and the kiss. He strategically left out the current room predicament. He trusted Jack, but there were limits.

“So you kissed her. And then what?”

“And then what? She ran away. That’s what. And now we’re barely on speaking terms.”

“Sounds very awkward.”

“Yes, thanks. It is.” Really, did Jack have to point out the obvious?

“So what are you going to do about Millie?”

“I have no idea. She’s ruined me for anyone else, but if I want to keep my job, I have to keep my distance and somehow get her to quit. I guess I’ll do my best and pray that this madness passes.”

A smile curled one side of Jack’s lips. “Good luck, my friend. You seem like a man who needs pie.” He flagged down the waiter. “Two pieces of apple caramel a la mode.”

In the absence of liquor, pie would have to do. Could one drown oneself in pie? Ernie was damned well going to try. But he also wouldn’t have minded something stiffer.

“I don’t suppose you have a little something to splash in my coffee, do you? I could use a drink.”

Jack grinned at him. “It just so happens I have a flask of whiskey with me.” He looked around surreptitiously to make sure no one was looking, then he poured a splash into each of their coffee cups. “Cheers,” he said, holding up his cup.

“Cheers,” Ernie answered, downing his cup in one go. “Ah. That’s better.”

“Agreed.”

Their pie arrived. As expected, it failed to solve any of his problems, but he scarfed it down like a starving man, nonetheless.

“I should get going,” Ernie said after the last bite. He pulled out his billfold and left a few bills on the table.

“Good luck,” said Jack.

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

Heading to the front desk, he caught Mr. Dunston’s eye. “Any luck finding another room?”

Mr. Dunston shook his head. “I’m sorry. I tried calling around but haven’t had any luck yet. Plenty of folks are already snowed in from the storm, but I’ll keep trying, Mr. Pritchard.”

No room. No escape. A snowstorm that was probably going to ground him tomorrow. How could this day possibly get worse?

14

“Any update on a room?” Millie asked Mr. Dunston for the fifth time. She’d been lingering in the lobby reading “Pride and Prejudice” for two hours now. Anything to avoid the situation upstairs.

“I’m afraid not, Miss Aldrich. I’ve called everyone I can think of in walking distance, but none of them can take you. Most have guests already for the harvest festival. Anyone farther out is unreachable in this storm. I’m afraid you and Mr. Pritchard will have to make do.”

No. Anything but that. Didn’t Mr. Dunston realize what a perilous situation they were in?

Of course, he didn’t. How could he? Nobody knew about her and Ernie. Nobody knew about the kiss. Nobody knew how impossible it would be for them to stay away from each other cooped up in a tiny hotel room.

But she had to try. There was nothing else for it. She couldn’t very well sleep in the lobby.

It was after 9 p.m. when she made her way up the stairs to the room. She knocked on the door before opening it, not wanting to catch Ernie in a state of undress. He opened the door to let her in. His shirt was untucked, and his sleeves rolled up leaving his swallow tattoo visible, but thankfully he was fully clothed.

He inhaled sharply upon seeing her and then seemed to stop breathing as she entered the room. She was hardly any better, her heart pounding and her eyes wide as she eased past him, keeping as much distance as she could manage, but still far too close.

Unable to take her eyes off him, she sidled over to the unoccupied bed, sat down, then cleared her throat. “Mr. Dunston couldn’t find another room.”

Ernie closed the door, and the click of the latch boomed in her ear. They were alone, nothing to keep them apart but their tenuous self-control.

“I was afraid of that.”

“I’ll uh… I’ll…” Good Lord. Could she not even form sentences? “I’ll take this bed, and you stay over there. All right?”

“Yes,” he said in a husky voice. “I’ll just sit here and sketch,” he said, gesturing at his pad. A half-finished drawing of Jack Thompson eating pie lay face up on the bed.

“That’s very good,” she said, forgetting herself and coming closer to look. “I didn’t know you drew.”

“It’s been a hobby of mine since I was a child,” he said, running his hand up the back of his neck and turning slightly pink.

“It looks one of those illustrations by that fellow who does covers for the Saturday Evening Post.” It was so true to life and detailed she could hardly believe it.

“Norman Rockwell?” he asked, coming up beside her.

Too close.

“Could be. I don’t know the name.” She inched away.

“I’m very flattered,” he said, turning those big, caramel-colored eyes on her.

Oh, dear.

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” she said hurriedly, picking up her bag and bolting to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She was safe, at least for a few minutes. Maybe she could sleep in the bathtub?

Taking off her dress, she put on her light blue striped cotton pajamas. She’d always preferred men’s pajamas to nightgowns, and tonight she was grateful for her preference. There was nothing frilly or suggestive about them. They covered her completely.

She brushed her teeth and braided her hair as slowly as she could manage, dreading her return to the room and Ernie.

At last, she could delay no longer. Bracing herself, she stepped out of the bathroom and strode over to the bed, determined not to show weakness.

“Oh, my God, you’re in pajamas.” His newspaper came crashing down not-so-subtly hiding his crotch.

Her eyes went wide. “They’re perfectly modest,” she said, hurrying into bed and pulling the covers up to her chin.

“Of course,” he said, closing his eyes. “I just happen to…um…like women in pajamas.”

Now it was his turn to flee to the bathroom. Millie heaved a sigh of relief as the door closed behind him, and she heard running water. Grabbing her book, she turned to face the wall and snuggled down into the covers until only the top of her head was visible.

The wind howled outside, but the Brockerhoff was sealed tight. She was warm and cozy in her room. In their room. Good God, this was awkward.

Several minutes later, she heard Ernie return to his bed. “Shall we turn out the lights?”

“The sooner the better,” she answered without looking at him.

“Right.” He turned off the two lamps and then climbed in bed.

She lay in the dark, staring at the wall. Minutes ticked by, and sleep wouldn’t come. Her heart beat furiously. She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep. After a short while, her eyes popped open again. This was going to be a very long night. Her throat felt dry. Thirsty. She was very thirsty.

Swinging her legs out from under the blankets, she stood up to get a glass of water.

Bang! She crashed right into Ernie.

“Watch where you’re going,” she said at the same time he said “Sorry!”

She was pressed up against him. His arms were holding her steady. Her own arms, much to her mortification, were wrapped around him for balance.

And for some reason, neither of them stepped back.

“I was just going for a drink of water,” she said, still not moving.

“So was I.”

“You’re too close,” she murmured.

“Far too close.” His lips brushed her ear.

“Step back.”

“I can’t. You’re holding onto me.”

Oh. Yes, she was. And for some reason, she wasn’t stopping. She tilted her head back, straining to see his face in the darkness. “Ernie?”

“Yes?”

He was so close, so very close.

She touched her lips to his, unable to stop herself. His response was immediate and fervent. He traced her lips with his tongue and sucked her lower lip between his, leaving her knees weak and her heart fluttering. Oh, no. She could not kiss Ernie. It was a terrible mistake that she couldn’t seem to stop making.

His tongue found her own, and she opened to him.

Let the snow fall outside. In here, she was on fire, consumed by sensation as heat pulsed through her. Where his fingers touched her back, she felt licks of flame. It was too much, and she wasn’t supposed to be doing this at all. How could something so wrong feel so exactly right?

Her traitorous body pressed against him, reveling in the delicious feel of his chest against her own, her hips moving against his. The hard evidence of his desire grew between them, and she leaned into it, wanting to feel his heat in her most intimate places. And that was when she realized she was in far more trouble than she initially thought.

Millie was no innocent and knew how much pleasure there was to be had from the joining of two bodies. Barney had been an enthusiastic lover, insatiable really. He was always backing her into dark corners and running his hand up her skirt. It was a miracle they’d never been caught.

And now, here she was with Ernie, and all she could think of was how it would feel if he touched her, tasted her, took her. She wanted him with every fiber of her being. All of him. Not just lips and tongue. That wasn’t nearly enough to sate her.

“I want you,” groaned a husky voice she hardly recognized as her own. Did she really say that out loud?

Ernie froze, still holding her tight against him, breath ragged and shallow. “I want you too, but there are so many reasons we should stop.”

“There are. To start with, you’re still a no-good cad,” she said, unable to relinquish him. If anything, she was pulling him tighter against her.

“A no-good cad you can’t resist.” He nuzzled her neck, and she arched into him to give him fuller access. Her heart pounded in her chest as she moved against him, desperate for some friction.

“Then there’s the fact that we’d both be fired if anyone at work ever found out,” she said, touching him greedily, unable to stop.

He made an appreciative grumbling noise as her hands continued to explore. “Yes, there’s that,” he said in a strained voice. He nibbled on her ear, and she almost lost her mind. “And yet, we don’t seem to be stopping.”

“No one knows we’re stuck together here except Mr. Dunston at the front desk, and no one at all would know what happened between us tonight if we didn’t tell them.” Why was she arguing in favor of this? She was supposed to be putting a stop to it. The risks were far too great. But instead, she was grasping his firm and perfectly-shaped buttocks and enjoying his sharp intake of breath.

“Maybe we should get this out of our systems,” she heard herself saying. What? No, that was a terrible idea. “Everything seems to have conspired to force us together. Maybe we should give in for tonight so that we can be rid of this mad attraction and move on with our lives.”

He was silent for a long moment, but his hands continued to caress her sides, his thumbs grazing her breasts. “Maybe you’re right. One night and then we’re through.” He nodded slowly against her hair in the dark and then reached up to cup her cheek as he pulled her into another bone-melting kiss. When he had reduced her to nothing more than a pulsing puddle of sensation, he asked, “Millie, may I turn on the light? I want to see you.”

It felt so safe in the dark, as if none of this was really happening. Light would make it so much more real. But it was real. She might as well admit it to herself. “You can turn on the light.”

Hanging on to her tightly with one arm, he reached around her with the other and switched on the lamp. There he was with that unruly blond hair and golden-brown eyes, looking at her from beneath his long, thick lashes, eyes darkened with desire.

“My God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured as he pulled the tie from her braid and began to loosen it. Soon, her blonde hair sprung free and cascaded over her shoulders. “There. Perfection.” He buried his face in it, breathing deeply. “I am a very lucky man. At least for tonight.”

He pulled her into a kiss, and she surrendered. She wanted this more than she could remember wanting anything in her life. Her fingers found his shirt buttons, and she began to undo them one by one until his shirt hung loose and he shrugged out of it. Beneath, he was wearing a thick, wool union suit, understandable, given the weather, but frustrating nonetheless. She wanted to touch bare skin, trace the contours of his chest with her fingers. She found the buttons of his undergarment and made quick work of them, revealing his chest at last.

At the sight of him, she let out a tiny moan. She knew he was a shapely man from the way he filled his clothes, but this view of him was downright decadent. He was a god among men, much more muscular than Barney had been. His chest was lightly sprinkled with coarse blond hair, and she couldn’t wait to touch him.

She ran her hands over every angle and plane, memorizing the feel of him, enjoying the heat he radiated on this cold, wintry night. And for tonight, he was all hers. In the morning, they would go their separate ways as if this never happened. But tonight was for indulgence. No one would ever be the wiser.

His fingers began to work the buttons of her pajama top. One. And then another. Each button seemed to undo a little bit more of her control. When he reached the last one, he took the parted cloth in hand, holding it together then slowly pulling it apart to reveal her inch by inch, her breathing hitching as the fabric brushed the tips of her taut nipples. At last, she was fully open to him, and he gently slid the top off her arms as he groaned, “Oh, Millie.”

Stepping back, he took a moment to rake her with his gaze. She missed the warmth of his touch but felt his eyes on her like a caress. Never had a man looked so worshipful in her presence. He threw her pajama top to the floor and rushed in, placing a thousand kisses on her chest until he reached her nipple and sucked it into his mouth. Arching back, she was supported by his strong arm as he drove her mad. His knee pushed between her legs, and his beautifully muscled thigh rubbed where she needed him most. Her silk underwear was already damp. Riding his thigh, she could see colors starting to swirl at the edges of her vision. Much more of this treatment, and she was going to soak herself.

“Yes, let go, Millie.”

A shudder ran through her, and a spasm of bliss turned the world to rainbows. Oh. Dear. God.

And they were still fully clothed from the waist down. What would it be like when he finally touched her?

15

Millie was a dream come true with her golden hair cascading over her shoulders, brushing against her lovely breasts and pert salmon-colored nipples. Her pajama bottoms hugged her hips, and he couldn’t wait to tear them off.

He tugged at the string, and they came untied, sliding off her and crumpling to the floor. She stepped out of them as he continued to kiss and caress her, leaving her standing in nothing but her silk underwear, trimmed with lace. Unable to resist, he caressed the curve of her bottom beneath the smooth fabric. It almost seemed a shame to shed this last tantalizing bit of cloth, but it had to go. He needed to see all of her.

She gasped as he slid her soaked panties to the floor and touched the silken curls at her core with his finger, quickly finding the secret nub of flesh to drive her wild. Swirling his finger once, twice, he made her whimper. Then he stepped back, looking her up and down. He wanted to take her in, savor this moment of revelation. She was an erotic dream come to life with her parted red lips, tempting breasts, nipped waist, and long tapered legs. He wanted to press her back onto her bed and sink into her then and there, but he knew he had to make this last. Her pleasure came first. He could hold himself in check. Barely.

Biting her lip, she reached out and grazed the front of his pants with her fingers, and he twitched at her touch, painfully erect beneath the fabric. She clearly knew what she wanted and was unafraid to take it. With nimble fingers, she unbuttoned his pants and then his union suit, and moments later Oh, God! she was touching his cock.

His eyes shut tight, and his jaw clenched as a burst of need erased all conscious thought. She grasped him firmly and pumped him as her thumb grazed over the tip.

Mustering some last shred of sanity, he pushed her hand away. “Not yet. Too much,” he mumbled through gritted teeth.

Stepping out of his clothes, he guided her to her bed and laid her down gently. Once again, he took a moment to pause. Memories of tonight would have to last him a lifetime. Never again would he have the chance to see Millie splayed on the bed before him, looking up at him with a hunger and intensity that set him on fire.

“Stop staring and come down here,” she commanded. There was a smile on her face. What could he do but obey?

He lowered himself, hovering over her. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she pulled him down with surprising strength so that he was flush against her, his cock pulsing against her belly as she kissed him into oblivion.

It was almost as if this was a contest that she aimed to win. Who could make the other lose their mind first? The way she was kissing him and moving against him drove him to distraction. He was losing this battle.

Time to change tactics. Kissing his way down her chest, he took one tender nipple in his mouth and reached his hand between her legs where he began to stroke. Mmm. Yes. This seemed to be working quite well to obliterate her control. She trembled and writhed beneath him, completely at his mercy. He continued his trail of kisses down her ribs and over her belly. If this was his only chance to be with her, he had to taste her.

Errant thoughts about the potential consequences kept popping into his head, and he kept shoving them away. This was a terrible idea, but they could hardly stop now. Nothing was wrong as long as no one found out. They were safe if this stayed secret. He was certain she would never tell, and he wasn’t going to confess. He wasn’t really risking his sole means of supporting his family on a night of bliss, was he?

Kissing the curls between her legs, her rich feminine scent drove everything else from his mind. Oh, yes. This was what he needed—to lose himself and bury himself in her until there was nothing left of his cares and worries. There was a freedom in sex akin to the freedom of flying. All his anxieties fell away, and his focus was complete—a blissful oblivion where the world was reduced to a simple set of variables, where instinct ruled over mind. And with Millie, instinct overpowered everything else with a force that could not be denied. He let go and allowed the wave of need to carry him, come what may.

Parting her with his thumbs, he took a taste of her intoxicating femininity and grasped her as she jerked at his tongue’s touch. An appreciative rumble emerged from his throat as he buried his face in her, licking the nub that was the center of her pleasure. Her back arched, and she writhed as he lost himself in her bliss.

Nothing compared to Millie. His past lovers paled in comparison. He was ravenous for her, desperate to taste her fire and be consumed by it. Each movement, each moan of hers shot straight to his cock, making his balls clench in need. As he felt the pulsation of an approaching release, he drove himself into the sheets trying to keep it at bay.

She came with all the force and fury he expected from her, her whole body shaking as she cried out his name. As the tremors subsided, she pulled him up and kissed him, her hand grasping his cock and stroking it. “I need you inside me, Ernie. Right now.”

“Let me get a condom.” He retrieved one from his ditty bag as quickly as possible and put it on, grateful he still had a few left. He hadn’t replenished his supply prior to this trip, thinking he was unlikely to enjoy any feminine company this time around.

“You have condoms?” Millie asked, sitting up and staring at him accusingly. “Were you planning on taking someone to bed?”

“No plans. I keep a supply as a precaution. And you should be glad I have one to keep us safe.”

“You are a cad, and you don’t deserve me,” she said, lying down again. “And if you don’t come over here right this minute, there will be consequences.”

He grinned, wondering what consequences she had in mind. But there was no question that he was going to obey.

Climbing over her and nestling between her legs, he let his cock drag along her hot wet seam, teasing her and coating himself in her juices. “I am a cad, and I don’t deserve you. But you want me nonetheless.” Notching his head at her entrance, he gave a little, teasing thrust. She curved up to meet him. “You want me so badly you can hardly stand it. I’m starting to think you like cads.”

“Go to hell, Pritchard,” she said, wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him deep. Oh, Christ, she felt good. For a long moment, they were both speechless. He expected the burst of pleasure, but not the bolt of lightning that seemed to pierce his soul. Too stunned to move, all he could do was breathe.

She began to move beneath him, and he moved with her, still dazed by the strange sensation that he had been split open, that he was exposed, raw. He saw his own tumultuous emotions mirrored in Millie’s eyes. This was supposed to be a one-time fling to get each other out of their systems. Then why did it feel like something new had taken hold in this unguarded moment and begun to grow between them?

Conscious thought became impossible as their intimate dance gained intensity. He could feel every reverberation of pleasure within her as he thrust and thrust again.

“I want to be on top,” she murmured in his ear between moans.

Of course, she did. Not that he minded. He rolled to his side, still entwined with her and let her climb on top. And then… Oh, Christ.

She rode him with a vengeance as he bucked beneath her. With each movement, he seemed to reach deeper and deeper within her. His eyes rolled back in his head. He was losing control. He couldn’t hold back much longer as her hips swirled and danced, whipping them both into a frenzy. The pulsation of her shuddering release pushed him over the edge, and he emptied himself within her.

As she collapsed beside him, he lay limp and blinking, barely managing to stay conscious. A moment later, she shook his shoulder. “Ernie, did it work for you? Am I out of your system?”

He took a long slow breath and let it out, then turned to look at her. “Yes, of course,” he lied. “You?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” No, not good. Disastrous, really. How was he ever going to recover? “I’ll just…” He didn’t know what to say, but he knew he couldn’t stay in this tiny bed with her.

Forcing his limbs to do his bidding, he slid out of her bed and stood. He retrieved boxers from his ditty bag and headed to the bathroom to clean himself up, discard the condom, and splash some water on his face. When he returned, wearing nothing but his boxers, she was dressed in her pajamas again with the covers covering everything but the collar.

“We should sleep,” she said, staring at the ceiling.

“Yes, we should.” He got into his bed and turned out the lamp. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

He closed his eyes and succumbed to the torpor that always followed sex. As he drifted off, he swore to himself he would never touch Millie again. It was over. It had to be. Much as he worried about the aftermath, he couldn’t bring himself to regret what had happened between them. Never in his life had he experienced so much bliss. But this had to be the end.

Full of determination and resolution, he let sleep take him.

If he’d hoped his dreams would provide a respite, he was sorely mistaken. She came to him, a siren bent on his demise, her dream incarnation rich with detail now that he’d seen all of her. Her hands were everywhere. She licked and nipped and kissed every inch of his body. There was no escaping her tender assault. He writhed as she touched and tantalized. Every time he tried to embrace her, she evaporated, leaving him bereft and frenzied.

At last, he surrendered to her, lying back and letting her do as she pleased as his arousal grew and grew.

And so, it hardly came as a surprise when he awoke to hands caressing him and a warm, feminine form pressed against him. Dream blended with waking as he gave in to her seduction.

“I want you again,” she murmured in his ear as she traced her fingers lightly over the front of his boxers.

“Thank God,” was all he could say as they started over again.

16

Millie had no idea what time it was. Long past time for her to return to her own bed and try to get some sleep. She knew that much. The first faint hint of morning light peered in through the window. But Ernie’s fingers were doing such delicious things right that moment.

Oh, God.

“We have to stop,” she murmured.

“Not until you finish,” he answered, nipping at her ear.

“Oh, yes,” she gasped, feeling him curve his fingers within her while his thumb circled her pulsing bud, making her tremble head to toe. “I mean no.” He froze.

No!

“Don’t stop,” she blurted. He redoubled his efforts. “Oh, God.”

She was so close. What did a few more minutes matter?

“Yes, that’s right. Come for me, Millie.”

Colors spiraled at the edge of her vision. Again. How many times had it been?

“That’s it. God, you’re gorgeous when you come. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

She wasn’t capable of forming words. Her ravenous hunger for release was almost unbearable.

She wanted more. She wanted him. She wanted this. Yes!

Her back arched. Burning white light exploding within her, shooting from her core to her extremities. As she returned to herself, warmth and contentment suffused her limbs. She wanted nothing more than to cuddle up against this man and sleep in his embrace.

Cuddle?! Pull it together, Mildred.

Reluctantly, she forced herself to edge away. “Bed. Sleep,” she muttered.

“Stay,” he said, putting an irresistible hand on her shoulder. “I want to hold you.”

“Hold me?” Her traitorous body snuggled back against him. Oh, that felt nice.

“Yes, hold you. And I promise that’s all. We both need some sleep.”

They spooned together in the narrow bed, his strong arm wrapped around her. Her bleary mind tried to mount one last faint protest that never made it to her lips. Sleep took her.

The alarm clanged far too soon. She was so sleepy, so comfortable, so…

Oh, no. What did I do?

She was wrapped in someone’s embrace.

Ernie.

Oh, God. What had she been thinking?

Jerking away from him, she leapt from the bed and ran for the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

“Millie?” he called in a sleepy voice. “Is everything all right?”

No, it was not all right. She’d just spent the night having carnal relations with her colleague. Women would never be allowed to fly the mail again if this got out. If they had worried that women pilots were a distraction before…

She splashed some water on her face and realized all her clothing was in the other room. Damn it!

Grabbing all the towels she could, she cocooned herself and ventured out.

“Millie?” he asked again as she emerged, a bleary smile on his face. He stood there in his boxers, all handsome and disheveled, holding out his arms for an embrace.

No, thank you.

She edged over to her suitcase and pulled out her clothing, doing her best to keep her towels intact.

“We’ve seen each other naked. Why the sudden modesty?” he asked, dropping his arms.

“It was a mistake. A terrible mistake. Not to be repeated.”

His smile fell. “Ah. I see.”

“Do you disagree?”

He let out his breath slowly. “I… Well…”

“What?”

“I’ll grant you it was dangerous, and it would certainly cost us our jobs if anyone found out. But…”

One of her towels started to fall and she hiked it back up.

“But what?”

He looked her in the eye as if searching for something. “But despite that, I can’t bring myself to feel like it was a mistake. It…felt so right. Didn’t you feel it too?”

Oh, yes, she felt it, and it was wrong, wrong, wrong.

“No,” she said with as much conviction as she could muster. “It was a mistake, and it’s best if we try to forget it ever happened.”

“Millie, please,” he said, reaching out and taking her hand. Why did his touch have to obliterate her willpower like this? She clutched her towels all the tighter with her other hand. “I know we can’t continue, but please say you don’t regret last night.”

Did she regret it?

No.

Yes.

No.

“Don’t do this, Ernie. Please. You know whatever this is between us has to end.”

“But do you regret it?” He squeezed her hand as his eyes searched hers.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said at last. “It will be easier for both of us if we treat this as a momentary lapse in judgement and move on with our lives.”

His thumb stroked over her hand, and she wanted to melt into a puddle.

“We have to move on the second we step out that door,” he said. “But for our last few moments alone together, can we at least be honest with each other?”

She yanked her hand away as if she’d been burned.

“I’m being totally and completely honest when I say it was a mistake.”

She rushed back to the bathroom and dressed hurriedly, dragged a brush through her tangled hair, and brushed her teeth. Grabbing her purse, she ran out of the hotel room without so much as meeting Ernie’s eyes.

Mr. Dunston was at the front desk. Thank God.

“How soon will the snow be cleared, do you think?” she asked, noting with dismay that the snow had reached the height of the windows. A few errant flakes were still falling, but the storm had passed.

Laughing, he said, “You won’t be going anywhere today, young lady. It will take all day to dig the town out of this, not to mention the runway.”

They were stuck.

Oh, no. Not another night…

“Any chance a room might free up for me for tonight?”

Mr. Dunston shook his head apologetically. “I’m sorry, Miss. No one is going anywhere in this mess.”

That’s it. I’m sleeping in the lobby.

She marched into the dining room and ordered herself a large breakfast. There was nowhere to go, and she had a lot of time to kill. Maybe she would pick up a shovel herself to see if she could speed things up. Another night in Ernie’s hotel room was unthinkable.

So, of course, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

All through ham and eggs with fresh-baked biscuits, she relived their night together. He’d taken her to heights she hadn’t thought possible with his knowing fingers, sinful tongue, and his… Oh, God, the way he felt inside her! It was like he was made for her, filling her and reaching new, secret places that drove her wild.

Barney was always in a rush. Everything was rough and fast with him. He didn’t linger over her like Ernie, taking pleasure in giving her pleasure for its own sake, not a means to an end. Things with Barney were good enough while they lasted, but they couldn’t compare to last night.

Being with Ernie was a revelation. Now she knew it could be so much better than she’d ever dreamed. Would she ever be able to find that again? Not with Ernie, obviously, because that was over once and for all. But with someone?

Speak of the devil…

“Might I join you for a moment?” Ernie asked, all cool formality. He’d dressed and shaved and must have had some coffee because he looked far more awake than her.

“If you must.”

He winced but sat.

“You probably heard we’re snowed in today. It’s going to take half the day to even dig a path to the airstrip, let alone dig out the airstrip itself.”

She nodded, keeping her eyes down.

“I asked about rooms,” he continued. “Unfortunately, nothing has changed.”

Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his. It was a mistake. All the fire and passion of last night was plain to read in his warm brown eyes flecked with gold. It stirred things within her, and she squeezed her knees together to keep it at bay. She had to look away. Someone would notice if they kept looking at each other like this.

“Pritchard,” came a booming voice, breaking the spell. Thompson clapped Pritchard on the shoulder. “Giving Miss Aldrich the bad news?”

Thompson looked anything but disappointed.

“Such a shame we get a snow day,” he continued. “I guess I’ll be forced to sit around and eat pie and read a good book, darn it all.” The man was grinning ear to ear. “Care for a game of chess later? I brought my board.”

“Sure,” Ernie answered. “Have you eaten breakfast yet? I’ve only had coffee. Want to join me?”

“Absolutely. Let’s eat. Care to keep us company, Miss Aldrich?” Thompson asked with a mischievous smile. Did he suspect something? No, he couldn’t possibly. She was imagining things.

“No, thank you. I’ll let you boys dine in peace. I have some very important knitting to do.” She’d used this excuse to great effect when fending off unwanted attention in college. Of course, she’d never picked up knitting needles in her life.

Ernie raised an eyebrow, and she glared back at him, daring him to contradict her.

“Enjoy your knitting, Miss Aldrich,” said Thompson, oblivious.

“I’ll see you later, Miss Aldrich,” Ernie said, stifling a chuckle.

The formality of “Miss Aldrich” hurt a little from him, but of course he couldn’t call her Millie in front of Thompson. “See you later, Pritchard,” she said, wishing she could run far, far away and never see him again. Or perhaps run farther still to some desert island where they could canoodle all day long without anyone else being the wiser.

You don’t know what you want, Mildred.

What a mess. At least he was gone. For the time being. Now Millie had to figure out what to do with an entire day cooped up in a hotel with a man she was trying to avoid. Suddenly the spacious Brockerhoff Hotel seemed far too cozy and cramped.

She would love to go for a walk and clear her mind, but that was out of the question, at least until some substantial progress was made with clearing the snow. For the first time in her life, she wished she actually knitted. Not that knitting could absorb her for a whole day, but it was an excellent way to look busy.

Knowing Ernie would be occupied with Thompson for some time, she headed up to the room to read. By lunch time, she’d finished “Pride and Prejudice.” Wasn’t it much longer the last time she read it? She couldn’t believe she’d run out of book so quickly.

Lunch didn’t waste nearly as much time as she hoped. She lingered over her chicken salad sandwich, but there was only so much time a person could spend taking tiny bites and staring at their food. She spied Ernie out of the corner of her eye playing chess with Thompson on the other side of the room.

Filled with restless energy, she strode to the front of the hotel and looked at the progress of the digging. There was now a path out of the hotel to the main road, which had been dug out as well. She was out of things to do indoors, so she decided to go for a walk.

Upstairs, she changed into her pilot’s garb—a union suit, pants, a thick wool sweater, a fur-lined leather jacket, and her fur-lined aviator’s cap.

As she walked out the front doors of the hotel, she felt as if she was escaping prison. The fresh, crisp air smelled like freedom and possibility. The sun shone down, making the snow nearly blinding to look at.

She couldn’t go far. Only one block of the main street had been dug out, and it seemed like every young man in town was out with a shovel, chipping away to carve a path through the snow drifts.

Deciding to brave the untrampled snow out to the airstrip, Millie tromped her way through powder up to her knees. As expected, the airstrip was covered end to end. Two mechanics were busy brushing the snow off the frosted airplanes. Another three men with shovels arrived while she looked on and started the long process of digging out the runway.

“Don’t just stand there staring. Pick up a shovel and help,” yelled one of the mechanics, spying her. Bundled up as she was, no one would know she wasn’t a man. They’d never ask a lady.

Deciding she had nothing better to do, she pitched her voice as low as it could go and asked, “Where’s a shovel I can use?”

“Shed,” the man said, pointing.

So she tromped over to the shed and started digging. It was hard work, but at least it distracted her from thinking about Ernie. It felt like a sort of penance for the night before. If only she could dig out the runway, she could fly away from her mistakes and leave them behind.

After about half an hour, two more men tromped through the snow. As they approached, she realized her peril. It was Ernie and Thompson. But what was she going to do, drop her shovel and run? How foolish would that look? No, she would stay right where she was and keep her head down.

“Took you two long enough to come out here to help,” one of the mechanics called out. “Grab a shovel from the shed and help us out.”

Soon, the two men joined their little group, huffing and puffing as they hefted shovel after shovel of snow off the runway. In the afternoon sun, the snow began to melt a bit, and the powdery snow became wet and heavy. Millie’s arms and back were starting to ache from the effort.

She stayed as far away from Ernie as she could manage, but only fifteen minutes in, he asked, “Millie? Is that you?”

Resting against her shovel, she turned and gave him a frosty look. “That’s Aldrich to you.”

It was embarrassing how much she liked the sound of her name on his lips, but she could hardly allow familiarity in front of an audience.

“Aldrich, no one expects you to shovel snow. You should go back to the hotel and stay warm.”

“What? She’s a lady?” said one of the men she didn’t know who had been digging with her. “She’s been digging like a bulldozer over there for at least half an hour. Never would have thought a lady had it in her.”

The man looked her up and down as if she was some sort of exotic bird. “Never seen a lady dressed like that neither. What kind of dames you got over there in New York anyway?”

“Aldrich is a most unusual woman, I assure you,” Ernie answered, giving her a wink that made her grit her teeth.

“Lady, you should listen to your friend here,” the man said. “Go back to the hotel. Let the men take care of the heavy labor.”

“No, thank you,” she answered. “I would like to get out of this godforsaken town as soon as possible, which means digging out this runway.” She turned back to her work, ignoring the others.

“Oooooh,” the man said loudly. “She must be that lady pilot I heard about. Give women the vote, and they think they can do anything.”

Millie ground her teeth, trying to hold back the torrent of arguments about women and their capabilities that was flooding her mind. No. This man wasn’t worth it. Taking deep breaths, she focused on her digging.

“Well, Aldrich here can do anything,” Ernie said. “She’s a damned good pilot, one of the best I’ve seen, man or woman. And I think she’s just proven she can dig snow with the best of us. There are very few things she couldn’t do if she set her mind to them.”

Warmth bloomed in her heart at his words, much to her consternation. Why did he have to come to her defense like that and make her feel all warm and fuzzy?

She dug into her work with renewed vigor. She couldn’t get out of here soon enough.

The man shrugged. “If she wants to dig, who am I to stop her?”

They all lapsed into companionable silence as they continued the agonizingly slow work of digging out the runway.

By the time they stopped, the winter sun was low in the sky. Millie’s arms felt like rubber bands, and everything in her ached.

“Hey, Jack,” Ernie said as they walked back to the hotel together. “I bet you couldn’t hit that tree over there with a snowball.”

“Of course, I could.”

They paused. Thompson threw and missed.

“I could hit it,” Millie volunteered, instantly regretting her words. She wanted to get away from these men, not spend more time with them.

She packed herself a snowball, aimed, and threw.

Bullseye.

“Hot damn,” Ernie murmured.

Thompson whistled.

“Where’d you learn to throw like that?” Thompson asked.

“My father wanted a son. He got me instead. He taught me a lot of things a young lady shouldn’t know.”

“Like flying an airplane?” Thompson asked as he took aim at the tree again, determined to redeem himself.

The snowball grazed the side of the trunk. A hit, but barely.

“I learned that from his friend, but yes.”

Ernie took a turn, packing his snowball, winding up, and then letting it fly.

By God he was a lovely man in motion.

The snowball hit home, exploding against the trunk.

“Miss Aldrich, would you join us for dinner?” Thompson asked. “You’re a very interesting woman, and I’d like to get to know you better.”

Millie and Ernie exchanged a panicked glance.

With an all-too-knowing look, Thompson said, “We all just spent several hours together in hard labor. Surely, we can survive one dinner like civilized people.”

Oh, God, he suspects.

Still. There was no graceful way out of this. “Dinner sounds lovely.”

17

Dinner was torture. Ernie had never felt so awkward in his life. Jack meant well. Maybe. Or maybe he just wanted to watch Ernie squirm. Jack was playing the consummate matchmaker, getting them to talk about their families and swap flying stories. Unfortunately, the more Ernie learned about Millie, the more he wanted the impossible.

One night. She’d been very clear. And she thought that one night was a mistake. She had regrets.

He had none. Worries, yes. Regrets, no. It would be a disaster if anyone ever found out, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about the best night of his life. It felt so good, so right to be with her. How he was going to survive another night without touching her, he had no idea.

But he’d promised to respect her wishes. He would have to content himself with memories and dreams.

Millie retired as soon as dinner was over. Ernie stayed up late into the night playing chess with Jack and losing over and over. He couldn’t concentrate, knowing what awaited him upstairs, but he wanted to delay the torture of sleeping next to her without touching her for as long as he could manage.

“You seem distracted tonight,” Jack said as he took Ernie’s queen. “You’re usually not this bad.”

“I do? I think I’m just tired after all that digging.”

“Maybe you should get some rest, then. Gotta fly tomorrow.”

Ernie groaned. “Yes, we do. Hell’s Stretch.”

“You’ve got to fly Hell’s Stretch. I only have to get back to Newark.”

“Lucky bastard.”

Jack laughed. “You love the challenge, and you know it.”

“I do. It’s trying to get Millie safely to Cleveland that has me worried.”

Jack took his rook. “Check. She’s an excellent pilot. You said so yourself. She’ll be fine.”

Moving his bishop to protect his king, Ernie said, “You’re right, but I can’t help worrying.”

If anything happened to her, I don’t know what I’d do.

“Checkmate. Go to bed. You’re too lousy to keep playing.” Jack started gathering the pieces into a cloth bag.

“Fine. I’ll go to bed.”

Where I will not sleep a wink.

Ernie trudged his way up to the room and knocked lightly before turning the key. No response. Was she asleep already?

Tiptoeing in, he found her sound asleep with the lamp still on, a book still clasped in her fingers. And no wonder. It had been an exhausting day after an exhausting night.

Maybe he would manage to sleep after all. Stripping down to his boxers and turning out the light, he climbed into bed. Sleep took him more quickly than he thought possible, and he descended into dreams of Millie.

He had no idea what time it was when he jerked awake as another body stretched against him, warm and inviting. And naked.

“Millie?”

“Shh.”

“I thought this was a terrible mistake you regretted,” he whispered, as she hooked her leg over his hip and her hands roamed over his back. His own body responded despite his best intentions.

“I don’t want to talk. Just do.” She reached her hand down into his boxers to stroke him. It was suddenly very hard to form words.

“Millie,” he pleaded. “God knows I want you, but I don’t want to add to your regrets.”

She stretched against him and placed one of his hands on her breast. “This won’t add to my regrets. Last night was a mistake, but I don’t see how tonight makes it any worse. The damage was already done. We might as well enjoy ourselves.”

It was terrible logic, but with her hand on his cock, he was having difficulty coming up with a counter argument.

Did he really want to stop her? No.

But still…

“I don’t know why I’m arguing with you. I must be losing my mind. But I don’t want you to regret me. Not for yesterday. Not for tonight. If you’re choosing me over the risks, I’m yours. If you’re only using me to scratch a guilty itch, you should go back to bed.”

She stopped her hand. Dammit.

“Why does it matter to you so much?”

“I may be a cad, but I don’t believe in taking a woman to bed who doesn’t wholeheartedly want to be there.”

Grasping him, she ran her thumb over his sensitive tip, spreading the bead of liquid that formed there, making him groan.

“And you don’t think I want to be here.”

She resumed stroking. He was losing the ability to form coherent thoughts.

“Oh, God. Millie. I… I can’t… You have to stop.”

As she stilled her hand, he felt a terrible sense of loss. What was he thinking?

Gasping for air, he scooted away from her as far as the tiny bed would allow.

“I’m certain you want to be here right now, but I’m not certain you won’t hate me for it in the morning. I don’t want to keep going if you’re going to have regrets.”

She was quiet and still for a long moment. “I came to you because I knew I would regret spending the night alone far more than I would regret being with you. I choose you. I promise not to regret this in the morning.”

He didn’t entirely believe her, but he wasn’t going to get any firmer assurance than that. And he wanted her desperately. Giving in, he wriggled out of his boxers.

Unable to control himself, he rolled on top of her, nestling between her legs and kissing her like a starving man. She answered him with equal fervor, wrapping her legs around him and digging her nails into his back. His cock dragged through her wet seam, and she arched beneath him, curving herself to invite more. Dear Lord, this woman.

All the fire, spirit, and determination she brought to her quest to become an airmail pilot, she brought to bed as well. Millie Aldrich did nothing by half measures. She was as bold and assertive in his arms as she was in the cockpit. With a twist, she nudged him over onto his back, pinning his arms above his head.

Reaching down to grasp him, she took control. Her skilled touch brought him up, up, up above the clouds, piloting him through groans and shudders and jerks, bringing him ever higher. She nipped and licked her way down his chest as he surrendered to her expert hand. When her tongue touched his cock, the world around him disappeared, and he was floating, soaring. And when she took him in her mouth, he entered the stratosphere, leaving the world behind and gliding out amongst the moon and stars.

A blinding white light exploded around him, and he spent himself, unable to hold back as her lips and tongue sucked him into sweet oblivion.

When blood returned to his brain and conscious thought became possible again, he looked up to find her sitting astride him, the moonlight revealing a greedy grin on her face.

“Now it’s my turn,” she said, scratching her nails down his chest. “Take me flying, Pritchard.”

“With pleasure, Aldrich.” He swiftly turned her over on her back, and she let out a little squeal. His hand grazed up her inner thigh, and he sucked one luscious nipple into his mouth. As his fingers found their destination, he murmured “Contact” against her skin, determined to wind her up like a propeller at take-off. She moaned and pressed herself into his hand.

He wanted to take her as high as she could go, pushing the limits of pleasure and sensation. How far could she go? How long could he keep her afloat? When she was on the verge, he replaced fingers with lips and tongue, sucking hard on her pulsing nub. Her whole body shuddered with the force of her release, and he held on as she rode it out, never slowing his pace.

Making her come once wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted everything she had. Unrelenting, he kept up his tender torture, his cock twitching back to life as she writhed beneath him. She clutched his hair. The intoxicating smell of her musk drew him on as he tantalized her tender flesh.

“Oh, Ernie, It’s too much!”

“Too much or not enough?”

“Oh…oh…oh!”

If she could form words, he needed to take her higher. He wanted her gasping and dizzy with need. How far would the roaring engine of her desire push her lithe frame?

Inserting one finger then another into her, he felt the pulsation of another release building.

He guided her up through the clouds and into the blinding sunlight as she came with a violence that nearly shook her apart. It was all he could do to keep hold of her and guide her back down for a soft landing.

As she lolled beside him, still too far gone to form words, he retrieved a condom and put it on. After watching that, he needed to be inside her.

“May I?”

“Yes,” she whispered without opening her eyes.

Sliding into her ever so gently, he began a slow and steady rhythm. She wrapped her legs around him, still dazed with bliss. Being inside her was all consuming. Never in his previous encounters had he felt anything like it. She was unique, transcendent, and magnificent.

With each careful thrust, he felt an answering reverberation within her. He had tested her limits, but he hadn’t yet exhausted her last reserves. The earlier fury was gone, replaced by sweet lethargy as she rolled her hips in rhythm with his strokes. They continued their slow, intimate dance as the tension built and built.

This was a side of Millie he’d never seen. Her defenses were down, and she was soft and exposed beneath him. Her face radiated guileless contentment. The fight was gone, and she welcomed him, clung to him, surrendered completely. And in that moment, Ernie knew he was done for. The distance he prided himself on maintaining with his lovers collapsed. There was no way he could let her go after tonight. Somehow, he needed to keep seeing her.

Her body trembled as she approached her climax, and he slowed his pace further to draw it out. At last, it rippled through her, wave upon wave, driving him to the brink and then over it. As the last wave subsided, he withdrew, and she snuggled against him, falling asleep almost instantly.

Struggling against his own exhaustion, he got up to dispose of the condom, then slipped back into bed with her, content as he’d ever been in his life.

When morning broke and the alarm went off, Millie didn’t flee. She stayed curled against him, warm and soft.

“Do we have to fly today?” she murmured. “I want another snow day.”

She pulled his hand to her breast and said, “Mmm.”

“I’m afraid so. Sadly, there are no allowances for having a gorgeous, irresistible woman in your bed.”

“What if we quit and stayed here?”

He knew she was joking, but oh, it was a tempting thought. They’d created such a cozy bubble together up in this room. He hated to pop it and let the rest of the world intrude.

“And let Mr. Dickson win? Nah, you’re not giving up that easily.”

She sighed. “No, I suppose I’m not. But Ernie…”

“Yes?”

“Last night was spectacular, and I don’t regret it one bit.”

A grin split his face.

“I’m so glad to hear that.” He nuzzled her neck and kissed her shoulder. “It was spectacular for me too.”

“Such a shame this has to be the end.”

No…

“Does it?”

She turned to look at him. Her brow furrowed, and her mouth turned down in a frown. There was a sad determination in her eyes as she caressed his stubbly cheek.

“Yes.”

No! This couldn’t be the end. He couldn’t imagine going back to his life of casual liaisons and empty flirtation.

“Millie, what if⁠—”

“Don’t. Please.” She kissed his forehead. “This has been wonderful, but it can’t continue. It isn’t only about us. If we got caught, it wouldn’t just be the end of our careers. It would be the end of women being allowed to fly the mail for years to come, and there would be consequences for you too. I can’t let you down like that. I thoroughly enjoyed our time together. I’ll remember it for years to come. But it’s over.”

A dull ache seeped into his heart at her words, sharpening as it sank in.

When she moved to get out of bed, he didn’t try to stop her.

They went about their morning ablutions without speaking, with all the distance of mere colleagues. He went through the motions of dressing and shaving automatically, and when she walked out the door for breakfast, it was without a backward glance.

18

Millie was in trouble. She’d let Ernie get under her skin, damn it all. She was better than this. Stronger. Wasn’t she?

Men. They were a danger to ambition. As soon as a woman fell for a man, she could kiss her dreams of anything larger goodbye. She would be dismissed, doomed to domesticity. While she respected women who dedicated their lives to hearth and home, she knew she couldn’t be one of them. She felt a different calling and had neither the patience nor the inclination to be a homemaker.

Even setting aside her own inclinations, she had a responsibility—to Katherine, Gertie, and every woman that came after. If she failed at the mail, she failed all of them. In a perfect world, a woman’s personal life would be as irrelevant to her work life as a man’s. But society had yet to progress so far. She was an exemplar, held to a higher standard, whether she liked it or not.

So no more Ernie. It was over.

Unfortunately for her, she was still going to spend her day staring at him.

They tromped out to the airstrip together through the mostly melted snow. It had rained during the night, leaving behind icy, muddy puddles everywhere. Even now, the sun was obscured by a thick layer of clouds.

“I was afraid of this,” Ernie said, looking up at the sky. “We’re going to have poor visibility today. Stay as close to me as you dare. It’s easy to get disoriented in weather like this. If you lose me, remember to watch your pitch and compass, and pray. But don’t lose me. I’ll get you through.”

“I won’t lose you. I promise.”

He looked up hopefully as she realized her words sounded like a bigger promise than she intended.

She shook her head. “That is to say I won’t lose you today. In the sky.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Good.”

Turning away, he stomped off toward his plane.

Giving her airplane a thorough check, she tried not to think about her night with Ernie. She needed all her concentration to get through the day’s flight in one piece.

Think of Katherine. She made this flight, setting records while she was at it. Do this for her. And when you’re confident enough, steal back the Chicago record for the ladies.

Ernie as her competitor was much easier to think about than Ernie as her lover—much safer ground. Yes, she would learn the ropes and then take his place. She had a plan, and she was sticking to it.

Speaking of her adversary, he was climbing into his cockpit. It was time to go.

It was a muddy, bumpy take-off, but as the wheels left the ground, relief washed through her. They had left Bellefonte and their secret tryst behind. They were up in the air where they belonged. Everything was as it should be.

As promised, she stayed right behind Ernie as they flew up to just below the cloud cover. If they flew above the clouds, they would lose sight of the landmarks they were supposed to follow. The danger of flying low was they were still in the mountains. If she wasn’t careful, she could fly right into one. The tips of the Alleghenies pierced the low clouds like a jagged jaw that had closed around them.

Ernie knew the way through these monstrous teeth. She had to trust in him and not lose sight.

He kept them as high as he could manage while still maintaining sight of the ground. That meant wending their way around peaks, spending precious fuel. He kept as straight a path as was practicable until they were confronted with three tall peaks directly in their path.

Going around would take too long and eat up too much fuel. The only viable choice was to go up and over, but that meant entering the cloud cover and losing visibility. And even then, there was the danger that they would misjudge and slam into the side of one of the peaks that they couldn’t see.

Trust Ernie. He’s done this many times before. He knows what he’s doing.

She followed him up into the clouds, and everything disappeared. She could hardly see the nose of her own plane let alone Ernie or the mountains. The comforting roar of Ernie’s plane was just ahead, though, and she listened with every fiber of her being, knowing her survival depended on it.

With no visual clues, she felt suspended in space. Was she moving forward? Was time passing? But Ernie’s plane was just ahead of her, so everything was all right. How much longer until they could drop back down to where things were visible?

Then the thing she dreaded began to happen. Ernie’s plane got quieter. Somehow, she must have misjudged and lost his lead. Try as she might to home in and find him again, the sound kept getting more and more distant. No. She couldn’t lose Ernie in here. It would be the death of her.

Trying to stay calm and trust her own instincts as a pilot, she checked her pitch and her direction. She was still pointing toward Cleveland. The plane continued to push forward in the disorienting sameness of the cloud. Should she fly lower again to see if she could find Ernie? Was it safe yet?

She dipped down ever so carefully, reminding herself to breathe. Anything that wasn’t a cloud would be a welcome sight after the long minutes of nothing. Or so she thought.

As the clouds parted, she yelped.

Right below her were the tops of trees, almost high enough to catch on her wheels, and to her right, far too close, a peak loomed. Yanking on the stick, she steered away and up, narrowly avoiding a collision.

Heart pounding, she climbed. Her frozen hands gripped the stick for dear life as the visible world disappeared once again.

No more flying below the clouds, she decided as she swore a blue streak into the muffled emptiness of the cloud cover. She was going above them. Landmarks be damned. She would have to trust her compass and hope the clouds cleared before Cleveland.

Up she climbed until she broke through into the sunlight. It was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. She was safe, at least for the moment. She could see where she was, avoid any mountain peaks, and steer her steady course in the right direction.

She prayed that wherever Ernie was, he was safe and that he didn’t worry too much for her safety.

Two hours later, the clouds broke, and she could see land again. She caught sight of railroad tracks and then the tall spires of a city in the distance.

Cleveland. It had to be.

She checked her fuel and was relieved to see she still had more than enough to reach her destination.

Circling the city, she spotted the airstrip at last and came in for a landing. Never in her life had she been so grateful to feel wheels touch earth.

As she ground to a halt and climbed out of her plane, she looked for Ernie. He should have arrived before her. But she didn’t see him.

“Has Pritchard arrived yet?” she asked the mechanic that guided her plane into the hangar.

“Haven’t seen him, Miss Aldrich. I’m sure he’ll be along soon.”

Oh, no. He was still out there? What if something happened? Did he try to circle back for her? He should have known better than to do anything so foolish.

She went inside to warm up and got herself a cup of coffee. It was markedly better than the mud back in New Jersey. The heat and aroma started to unwind some of the fear and anxiety that had her clenching every muscle throughout the trip. She was on the ground, safe.

But where was Ernie? He didn’t have the fuel to stay up much longer. She went and sat beside a window where she could see the airstrip, watching avidly.

Ten minutes passed. Twenty.

If something happened to him, she would never forgive herself. She was sure that his lateness had to be the result of his turning back to try to find her. Foolish man. She’d been flying longer than he had. Couldn’t he trust her to find her way?

Half an hour had passed, and she began pacing. What if something had happened? How would they know? When would they know? Was there a time beyond which they considered him lost? Would someone be sent to look for him? She would volunteer in a heartbeat. Should she volunteer now? No. Better to wait and see. There was still a chance.

She sat down again, staring out the window, willing something to happen. Her foot tapped, and then she stopped it. Then it started tapping again. She had to do something with all this nervous energy. She couldn’t just sit here.

Reaching a sudden decision, she headed back to the hangar to her plane. “I’m going back out to look for him,” she told the confused mechanic.

“Miss Aldrich, he could be anywhere. There’s no point in going yet. He could still get here safely. We need to wait.”

The man made sense, but she had no patience. “I have to go up. I have to find him.”

“Well, you can’t take this plane. I’m in the middle of a repair.”

The fuselage was opened to reveal the engine, and the man had his tools.

“Is there another plane I can take?”

“No.”

“What about that one?” she said, pointing.

“Doesn’t have an engine in it at the moment. We’re waiting for a replacement.”

“And that one?” she said, pointing again.

“There’s a nick in the wing. It isn’t safe to fly.”

Just as she was ready to throttle the mechanic, the distant roar of an engine reached her. Running out to the airstrip, she saw a Curtiss R-4 making its descent. Was it him, or was it the plane from Chicago?

As it made its landing, Millie still wasn’t sure.

A man climbed out of the cockpit and yanked off his cap and goggles. She’d recognize that face anywhere.

“Ernie,” she yelled, forgetting herself and running to him.

“Oh, thank God you’re safe,” he answered. “I turned back to look for you when I lost you.”

They were about to embrace when they both realized they couldn’t. Not in front of an audience.

“You stupid man. You could have got yourself killed.” She wanted to kiss him senseless, wrap her legs around him, and peel off his clothes. Instead, she whacked him on the shoulder.

“Ow! Is this the thanks I get for trying to save your life?”

“It’s the thanks you get for being an idiot and putting yourself in danger. I was just fine, as you can see.”

He grabbed her arm and looked her in the eye. “I couldn’t lose you, Millie. Not like that.”

The anguish and fear reflected in his eyes mirrored her own desperation as she waited for his plane to land. God, she wanted to kiss him.

“You think I wasn’t losing my mind worrying you were dead, you stupid oaf? How dare you scare me like that!”

He was so close. So very close. If she just reached out…

“I need a word with Miss Aldrich in private,” Ernie said, his voice gruff. “Is there anywhere we can go?”

One of the gawking mechanics volunteered, “No one’s in that tool shed over there.”

Dragging Millie by the elbow, Ernie stomped off to the shed. It was small and cramped and there was more than one spider on the walls, but it had a dim bulb and a door that closed. Ernie yanked on the chain of the light with unnecessary vigor and slammed the door behind him.

The second they were alone, they crashed into each other, lips and tongue meeting in a punishing kiss, arms grasping as if they would never let go. Millie bit Ernie’s lip, and he only kissed her deeper. His knee thrust between her legs, and she rolled against him. Her need was blinding, all consuming. She would have let him take her up against the wall, wanted him to as he walked her backward until her back hit wood. His punishing kisses didn’t stop, and she gave as good as she got until he suddenly pulled back.

“You’re spending tonight with me.” He wasn’t asking.

She wasn’t arguing.

Damn it all, this was supposed to be over when they left Bellefonte. But every fiber of her body ached for him. She couldn’t stay away, and she knew it.

“You stupid, stupid man! Why did you have to be so gallant and idiotic?”

“You think I was gallant?”

“Stop it,” she said, beating her fists ineffectively against his shoulders. “You could have died. I thought you were crushed to bits against some mountain. Do you have any idea how terrified I was?”

“Yes, I know exactly how terrified you were. Do you think I didn’t have those same pictures running through my head as I searched for you? You should have stayed behind me Millie,” he said, his voice getting louder with each word.

“Do you think I didn’t try?” she yelled in his face. “Do you think I wasn’t terrified up there in the clouds where I couldn’t see a thing as the sound of your airplane drifted farther and farther away? But I kept my nerve. I did what you told me and followed my compass, and here I am. Unlike you, I didn’t purposefully put myself in danger!”

Ernie was breathing hard, and his eyes were one fire. His jaw clenched. Was that a tear dripping down his cheek? She reached up without thinking to brush it away.

“I can’t lose you, Millie,” he said in a low, dangerous voice, as he seized the hand on his cheek hard then let it go. “I’ll see you at the hotel.” He turned abruptly and left the shed.

She stomped out after him, grabbing her bag. A taxi took her to the modest hotel near the airport, frequented by aviators, and she arrived shortly after Ernie, who was chatting with Will Hopson in the lobby when she arrived.

As she was about to step up to the front desk, Ernie stopped her. “I need to tell you something about tomorrow’s flight,” he said loudly, pulling her aside. “Room 123,” he murmured just loud enough for her to hear.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she murmured back. Then, aloud, she said, “See you in the morning, Pritchard.”

She checked into her room, dropped off her things, and knocked on his door right on time.

19

Mr. Dickson’s furrowed brow and clenched jaw did not bode well.

“You were supposed to get her to quit.”

Every pen and pencil Mr. Dickson owned was lined up, points outward like a spikey barricade aimed at Ernie.

“I thought the Chicago route would do it. I was wrong.”

Truth be told, Ernie no longer wanted Millie to quit. He wanted to keep flying the same route as her and having secret trysts at the hotels along the way. If she quit, would he ever see her again? But there was no question he’d failed Mr. Dickson.

“I’ll keep her on the Chicago route. It’s only October, and I’m willing to bet she’ll quit once winter truly sets in. You, however, have disappointed me. Don’t think that just because you broke a record flying back from Chicago last month that there won’t be consequences. Effective immediately, I’m assigning you to the Boston route.”

Even though he knew it was coming, he winced. “Yes, sir.”

The Boston route was miserable this time of year, and the weather-related delays meant anyone on it was perpetually in hot water for late deliveries. Not to mention the brutal cold in the winter. And, more importantly, he had no idea how he was ever going to see Millie if they were on different routes.

“For some reason, I can’t seem to keep pilots on that route,” Mr. Dickson grumbled. “You are going to provide the coverage we need while I find some other way to get Millie Aldrich to quit. I’ve heard you’ve gotten a little too friendly with her.”

Too friendly? Oh, no. What had Mr. Dickson heard? He thought they were being discreet.

“I’ve heard that you give her compliments and encouragement and that you’re far too patient with her hot-headed ways.”

Phew! If that was all, this would soon blow over.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t feel it would be gentlemanly to be impolite.”

Mr. Dickson looked up from under his bushy brows. “I wasn’t expecting you to be ungentlemanly, just discouraging. A woman in an airplane is a danger to herself and others. We need to end this farce.”

“Respectfully, Mr. Dickson, I disagree. Miss Aldrich is a highly capable and experienced pilot. More so than most of the men we bring in to join the team. I’ve had a chance to see her performance firsthand, and I can honestly say she’s probably one of the best pilots we’ve got. And she’s far more determined than most. The airmail would do well to keep her.”

As soon as he said it, he knew he’d made a tactical error, but he wasn’t sorry for standing up for Millie. She was a damned fine pilot, even if Mr. Dickson was too myopic to believe it.

Pinning him with a glare, Mr. Dickson cleared his throat. “You are formally relieved of any responsibilities related to Millie Aldrich, and going forward, if you want to keep your job, you should think twice about contradicting me. Clearly, I assigned the wrong man to this job. You start the Boston route on Friday morning. You are dismissed.”

“But Mr. Dickson⁠—”

“I said you are dismissed.”

Ernie got out of Mr. Dickson’s office before he could make anything worse.

As he cranked up his car, his mind was preoccupied with Millie. How could he let her know that his route had been switched? He didn’t even have her number. He paused in his cranking and went back inside to the message cubbies. He pulled a flier out of his and scribbled on the back.

I’ve been switched to the Boston route effective immediately. I fly on Friday. My number is Brooklyn 65182. Call me. –Ernie

He folded it, stuffed it in her cubby, and headed back out to the car. As he drove home, he wondered how long it would take her to see it. She’d already left by the time he got out of Mr. Dickson’s office, and it would be three days before she was due back. Three agonizing days, and possibly longer if she didn’t see the message immediately. And what if she called after he left for Boston?

Or what if she didn’t call at all? What if she decided their affair was over? It was one thing to sneak into each other’s hotel rooms when they were on assignment together, but something else entirely to intentionally see each other outside of work. Would she see this as an opportunity to end things? It was an easy way out for Millie if she decided she wanted to be rid of him.

Three days! How was he going to survive three days of not knowing?

He wasn’t even going to be at Heller Airport the same time as her. Mr. Dickson said Friday. That was four days away. Maybe he should make up an excuse to go to the airstrip on Thursday to see if he could catch her. No, that would seem too desperate. He needed to trust his note and wait for a call.

Arriving at home, he parked, bracing himself for the noise and chaos he was about to endure. Much to his surprise, the only sound was the clacking of typewriter keys.

“Constance?”

He found her in the parlor, set up at the old-fashioned rolltop desk next to a window.

Upon seeing him, she beamed. “Ernie, you’re home! Mom and the girls just went out to do some shopping. Pop’s at church. How is my favorite big brother?”

“I’m your only big brother.”

“So?”

Ernie settled himself on a chintz sofa. “How have things been while I’ve been away?”

“Mostly good. The girls have been well behaved for once. It’s Mom I’m worried about. She’s been in the doldrums this week missing Grandpa.”

Oh, dear. Mom’s doldrums had come and gone unpredictably since Grandpa passed last year. Some days, she was right as rain. Others, she could hardly get out of bed.

“It’s been a while since her last downturn. I was hoping we’d seen the end, but I guess not.” He touched his pocket watch. The ache was still there for him too, much though he tried to ignore it and pretend everything was fine.

“I convinced her to take the girls shopping to get her out of the house. A little sunlight and socialization will do her a world of good. But how are you, Ernie? You look tired.”

He chuckled. “I am tired.” Not that I’m going to tell you the reason I’ve barely slept over the last week.

“But you also look happy.”

“I do? I’m in hot water with Mr. Dickson at work. He just switched me to the Boston route.”

Constance shrugged. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s definitely something that’s making you glow. Is it a woman?”

Oh, no. She guessed it, though she couldn’t possibly know the extent of it. His neck and face heated. So much for keeping secrets.

“You did meet someone, didn’t you? Who is she?” Constance leaned forward with eager eyes.

For once, he actually wanted to tell Constance about the woman he was with—not the prurient details, obviously, but he didn’t want to hide Millie from his family.

“She’s a pilot.”

“A pilot? Oh, that’s perfect,” she said, clapping her hands. “Tell me all about her.”

“Only if you swear on your life to keep it secret.”

“Ooh. Mysterious. You have my promise.”

Looking up into his sister’s bright eyes, he confessed, “It’s Millie Aldrich.”

It took a moment for the name to sink in, then Constance’s eyes went wide. “Not that movie star barnstormer from the papers!”

“The very one. She’s flying the mail now, and I was assigned to show her the ropes. I’ve never met a woman so capable, spirited, and determined. Well, aside from my own sisters, of course.”

“Of course,” she said with a nod.

“When we’re together, it’s like… It’s like… Well, I don’t know how to describe it. We have this electrical connection. And even when we argue, there’s this powerful bond between us. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Constance smiled slyly. “You should bring her around. I’d like to meet her.”

“What? Here? I can’t bring her here.” What a disaster that would be!

“Of course, you can. Invite her. I bet she’ll come.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

Smiling and shaking her head, she said, “Oh, ye of little faith. Just think about it, will you?”

He shrugged. “All right. I’ll think about it.”

The answer was no, absolutely not. There. He’d thought about it.

At that moment, there was a commotion downstairs at the door.

“They must be home from shopping,” Constance said.

With a sigh, Ernie braced himself for the arrival of the twins.

“Constance, Constance,” cried two competing voices from down below. There was a scrambling noise from the stairs.

The twins burst into the parlor, each with a pile of books. “Look what I got at the bookstore,” said Verity, dumping her entire pile of books into Constance’s lap. “Oh, hi, Ernie.”

“I got just as good as her,” said Prudence, dumping her pile on top of Verity’s. “Hi, Ernie.”

Mom came into the room, looking worn and drawn. “Ernest, it’s good to see you.” She came over to give him a hug. “Your sisters have worn me out. I need to go upstairs and lie down for a bit.” She touched the gold cross necklace Grandpa gave her and turned back to the stairs.

Constance’s eyes flickered to his, her concern evident. They would need to take extra good care of Mom until she pulled through this, which meant more time wrangling Prudence and Verity. At least it would be a distraction from Millie.

“Verity, show me what you got,” he said. Constance handed him Verity’s books with a grateful look.

Ernie perused the pile of crime novels. “Who is this author? Agatha Christie. I’ve never heard of her,” he said, picking one from the pile at random.

“She’s new. This is her first book. It’s supposed to be marvelous. I can’t wait to read it.”

He listened patiently as Verity told him about each book and why she was excited to read it.

“Do you want to read any of these?” Verity asked. “I can’t read them all at the same time, and I’d be happy to share.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind. I think I’ll read this one.” He picked one from the pile. Why not? Crime novels were a good read, and he needed to kill the next few days somehow. He didn’t dare go out on the town. The last thing he wanted was for Millie to think he was still playing the field while canoodling with her. He was going to have to take a cue from Jack and spend his evenings at home with a book.

Not that he had any assurance Millie would ever even speak to him again. Here he was, saving himself for the mere possibility she might call. For her, he would be a saint. Good God, how she’d changed him! He hardly recognized himself. But she was worth it. If only he could get her to call him.

The phone rang, and he jumped, running for the receiver before anyone else could pick it up.

“Pritchard residence,” he said into the phone, breathless.

“Hey, Ernie. It’s Jack.”

Ernie’s shoulders sagged in disappointment, even though he knew there was no way Millie would have seen his note yet.

“Hiya, Jack. What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you might like to meet up for a sarsaparilla and some chess at the American Flying Club tomorrow afternoon.”

Normally, Ernie went out too much to have time for a slow afternoon at the club with Jack, but right now, soda and board games sounded like just the thing to keep him away from temptation.

“Sounds great. What time?”

“Say two-ish?”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then!”

“See ya, Pritchard.”

Something told Ernie he was going to drink a lot of soda and play a lot of chess over the next three days.

20

Ernie’s note was burning a hole in Millie’s pocket as she set out for her second trip to Chicago. She didn’t know whether to be upset or relieved that she would no longer see Ernie at work. But would she see him outside of work? That was entirely up to her, it seemed. She’d avoided giving Ernie her contact information, but now that she had his, would she use it?

Through the entire flight to Bellefonte, she thought of little else. As she checked into the Brockerhoff, heated memories assailed her. Everything reminded her of Ernie, his knowing touch, the sinful feel of his body against hers.

When she’d bumped into Thompson at Heller earlier, he said Ernie was in hot water with Mr. Dickson for standing up for her. Did Ernie really do that? Did he risk his career to argue for her to stay? She never would have thought it possible when they first met, but Ernie surprised her, and not for the first time. It seemed he placed a lot of faith in her. Was she going to repay it by leaving him hanging?

On the other hand, continuing to see him would be madness. A clean break was for the best. No one ever needed to find out what had happened between them. Maybe Beth. She couldn’t lie to her best friend for long. Beth would never tell a soul. But no one else, especially no one at work.

At dinner, she saw Turk Bird sitting alone and decided to go over to speak to him. She’d only met him a couple of times, but he seemed nice enough. He had a friendly, welcoming face and cropped brown hair that was still plastered to his head from wearing an aviator cap all day.

“Turk, it’s good to see you. Where are you flying in from?”

“Cleveland. Join me. It would be nice to have some company.”

He gestured toward the chair across from him.

“With pleasure,” she said, sitting down.

“How were conditions yesterday? I’m flying to Cleveland tomorrow.” With luck, this would be her last practice flight before she made a record attempt on the flight back. She’d already made arrangements to have access to a plane with the necessary fuel capacity.

“About as good as one can expect this time of year. It was sunny and clear, though still cold enough to freeze your…” He cleared his throat. “Freeze your fingers off.”

Funny how they all suddenly felt the need for propriety when she was around. “Just your fingers, Turk?”

He chuckled. “Unlike some of my colleagues, I haven’t lost all my manners. I’m not going to go mentioning unmentionables in front of a lady.”

“I’m not a lady. I’m a pilot.”

He shook his head. “You’re a lady pilot. An aviatrix, as they like to call you in the papers.”

The waiter arrived and took their orders. When he was gone, she asked, “You’ve read about me in the papers?”

“Sure, I have. Hasn’t everyone? My wife can’t read enough about you. She keeps begging me to ask you home for dinner. We’d love to have you, by the way, if you’re ever in the mood. I warn you, though, that she’ll hardly let you eat with all her questions.”

Sometimes she hated being a celebrity. It would have been nice to have dinner with the Gardners, but she didn’t want to be given the third degree all through it. Still, it was only polite to give an answer.

“If our flying schedules allow…”

“Ah. That might be the tricky bit. I think I’m on the opposite schedule of you. We only overlap in the middle, here in Bellefonte.”

Saved by Mr. Dickson. Thank heavens for small miracles.

“Oh, well. If anything changes, we can give it a try.”

Their food arrived, and for several minutes, they ate in companionable silence.

“You know, Pritchard has nothing but good things to say about your flying,” Turk said, breaking the silence.

“Oh?” She couldn’t help but be curious about what Pritchard told his colleagues about her.

“He couldn’t stop gushing about how you landed safely in Cleveland on your first trip without a guide. Did you know I did the pathfinding mission to establish the route? Flying Hell’s Stretch without a guide is no joke.”

“So I’ve learned,” she said, trying not to dread tomorrow’s flight. And the flight home when she’d have to fly over Hell’s Stretch without a break.

“And I heard the weather was against you too. No visibility.”

“That’s the truth. I ended up flying above the clouds, following my compass without being able to see anything below.” It was, frankly, terrifying. And here she was about to attempt Hell’s Stretch again, this time solo.

“Well, we’re all impressed, though none more so than Pritchard. He can’t say enough about you. I guess you really made an impression.”

Yes, she did, but not with her flying. Or at least she hadn’t thought so before talking to Turk. Maybe Ernie respected her as a pilot after all? Would he be upset when she broke his record, or would he be happy for her?

Christ, she missed him. But no good could come of their continuing their affair. It would be foolish in the extreme. She shouldn’t call. No, she definitely shouldn’t call.

“I’d like to hope that if I’m successful, I’ll pave the way for other women. There are a lot of talented female pilots out there looking for a chance to do something more than making spectacles of themselves as barnstormers.” That wasn’t giving too much away about her plan, was it?

Turk gave her a skeptical, indulgent look. “You don’t say. I’ve met few enough women who can handle an automobile, let alone an airplane.”

A flash of anger ruined her good mood.

“I think you’d be surprised what women are capable of,” she said, trying to keep her voice even.

“Well, you certainly surprised me,” Turk continued, oblivious. “I thought Katherine Stinson was one of a kind, and then you came along.”

Her jaw clenched, and she stabbed some carrots with unnecessary violence. “Katherine is certainly unique, but she’s far from the only woman out there flying an airplane. You should see what some of my barnstorming friends can do. I bet they could outfly anyone on the airmail team any day.”

Turk burst out laughing. “No wonder Pritchard likes you. You’re very funny, Miss Aldrich. I can just imagine this competition of yours—a bunch of ladies in frilly dresses climbing into airplanes and attempting loop-the-loops while they clutch their pearls. It sounds better than the circus!”

She saw red. It was all she could do to stop herself from smacking him upside the head.

Stand up and walk away, Mildred. You can’t afford to get into a confrontation. You’re already on thin ice with Mr. Dickson.

“Excuse me. There’s a phone call I need to make.”

Leaving a dollar on the table to cover her meal, she hurried off before he could say anything more.

She headed for one of the phone booths in the lobby and picked up the receiver.

“Hello, Operator? Can you connect me to Manhattan 89502, please?”

“Right away. That’ll be fifty-five cents for the first three minutes and fifteen cents a minute thereafter.”

Millie put the coins into the slot and heard the call connect.

“Beth Gilcrest speaking. Who may I ask is calling?”

“I hate men,” Millie grumbled into the phone.

“Millie?”

“Yes, of course it’s Millie. Who else could it be?” She twisted the phone cord as if wringing Turk’s neck, but it wasn’t really Turk she was angry with. It was all of them.

They all thought women pilots were a joke, an aberration, a circus act. What did it take to prove she was a serious pilot and that women could be just as successful as men in this field?

“Oh, dear. What’s got you riled up this time, darling?”

“Men. All of them. Worthless.”

“Now, now. Let’s start at the beginning. What happened that’s got you so worked up?”

Millie gave the phone cord a vicious yank. “I was having dinner with Turk Bird, and⁠—”

“Turk Bird? What kind of name is that?”

“He got nicknamed Turkey Bird for his wobbly landings, but it got shortened to Turk. His real name is Eddie Gardner, but that’s beside the point.”

“Go on.”

Millie took a deep breath. “We were having a perfectly pleasant conversation about flying, and then he had to go and make a comment about women drivers. And then he made a joke about lady pilots, and I just stormed off. And here we are.”

Beth was silent for a long moment. “You’re right. Men are worthless,” she said at last.

Thank God for Beth! Someone who understood.

“But they have their uses,” Beth continued. “And can you really blame him for parroting what everyone thinks? And it isn’t only men who share his views. Closed-mindedness is a disease of our age. Do you think it would have taken us nearly this long to win suffrage if every woman in the country had joined the cause? But no. It was only a portion of us fighting the good fight. My dear, you are a trailblazer, proving what women can do. They haven’t seen it done before. Is it any wonder the world thinks women can’t fly?”

Beth was right, of course. Turk was hardly unique in his views. In fact, she couldn’t think of a single man aside from Ernie she’d managed to convince of her perspective.

“You’re right, but men are still infuriating.”

“Is Ernie Pritchard infuriating?”

Millie could hear Beth’s grin through the phone.

Ernie was the most infuriating man of all, even if he was coming around to her point of view. Who else could leave her so restless and unsettled? He got under her skin, no question. And God help her, she liked it.

“Yes. Yes, he is.”

Beth laughed. Millie wanted to strangle her.

“And how furious does he make you?”

Clearly, Beth was trying to goad her into admitting something, but the Ernie conversation wasn’t one she wanted to have over the phone. Millie bit her tongue.

“Your silence speaks volumes, my dear. When you come home, we’re going to have a nice long chat about Ernie Pritchard over martinis, and you’re going to tell me everything.”

Clearing her throat, Millie said, “I should go. I have an early morning tomorrow.”

“Fine. Keep your secrets. For now.”

“See you Monday.”

“Goodbye.”

Millie pulled the piece of paper with Ernie’s number on it out of her pocket and stared at it. So tempting. So very tempting.

No. She wasn’t going to give into this…this…thing between her and Ernie. Naming it would make it feel too real. Men were worthless. All of them. No exceptions.

She stuffed the paper in her pocket and stormed up to her room. Though she was on another floor, the room was nearly identical to the one she had shared with Ernie. It was impossible not to imagine him in the bed across from her, clad in nothing but his boxer shorts, waiting for her to give in to the inevitable.

If he was here, she would give in yet again. Perhaps it was a blessing temptation had been removed. Mr. Dickson’s punishment for Ernie was her saving grace. She needed to stay focused on breaking the Chicago record.

To escape the fervid images flickering through her mind as she looked at the beds, she hurried to the bathroom and ran herself a bath.

The steaming water leached away the last of the bone-deep cold from her flight, and she lay back and relaxed at last.

Of course, it would have been nice to relax with Ernie. More than nice. She closed her eyes and imagined him kneeling beside the tub, soap in hand, slowly cleaning and massaging every inch of her, starting with her feet, and working his way up. When he reached her head, he washed her hair, fingers moving across her scalp, releasing the last of her tension and sending shivers down her spine, despite the hot water. Then his slick, bubbly hands dipped down to her breasts, and⁠—

No. She was torturing herself. Ernie was a bad habit she had to quit. Fantasizing was only going to make it worse. Best to keep her mind on safer things.

Hell’s Stretch. She traced the route in her mind’s eye, following the landmarks from the maps she’d studied until her eyes ached. Her shoulders tensed, despite the steamy water. So much for relaxing. But she had to be ready. The morning would arrive all too soon.

21

Ernie couldn’t take it anymore. All week he waited, and Millie didn’t call. When he was out on the Boston route, he called home every day, checking for messages. Nothing. He had to see her. And so here he was, driving two hours to get to Heller in the wee hours of the morning on his day off.

Never had he felt like this about another woman. Everyone else paled in comparison. She hooked him the same way flying did. He saw an airplane at a fair and knew that was what he was meant to do with his life. Somehow Millie had uncovered some secret longing within him, and he felt like he could hardly draw breath without thinking of her.

Even flying didn’t take his mind off her. Instead, he was haunted by the ghost of her plane, following behind him, just as she had on the way to Chicago. In the air or on the ground, she consumed him.

He pulled into the lot at Heller at 7:30 a.m., determined to catch her before her flight at 8:30. Her little red Stutz Bearcat was nowhere to be seen. The place was only starting to stir. A few mechanics went about their business in the hangar. Mr. Dickson wasn’t in yet. He thought he was the only pilot on site until he bumped into Jack.

“Ernie, what are you doing here? I thought you didn’t fly until Thursday.”

Good question. What was he doing here? He’d been so preoccupied with Millie, he forgot to come up with an excuse.

“There’s something I needed to see to,” he said lamely.

Fortunately, Jack shrugged and let it go. “How’s the Boston route treating you?”

“So far, it’s been fine. The weather has been cooperating. We’ll see how it goes as winter gets started in earnest.” Weather. Yes, weather was a safe topic.

Jack leaned in and murmured so that only Ernie could hear, “And how are things with Miss Aldrich? It’s such a shame she didn’t manage to break your record on Thursday. She got so close—just fifteen minutes behind.”

“She tried to break my record?” He had no idea. The news should have triggered his competitiveness, but instead, it made him miss her all the more.

“Yes, she did. The wind was against her, but watch yourself. Your record isn’t safe. It might not have happened this week, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“I’m not worried.” Not because he thought she couldn’t do it, but because he secretly hoped she would. For the love of God, what had come over him?

Jack leaned in close and whispered behind his hand, “Any more kissing?”

Oh, God. If only he knew. Ernie cleared his throat. “She’s not speaking to me at the moment, if you must know.”

Jack shook his head. “What did you do?”

“What did I do? Why do you assume it’s me? And maybe it’s for the best. Mr. Dickson would have our heads if he ever found out anything happened between us.”

“You don’t look like you think it’s for the best.”

“Shh. Someone’s coming.”

The door opened, and there she was in her cold-weather pilot garb, her cheeks rosy from the autumn chill. Their eyes met, and she froze.

Jack looked from one of them to the other as they stood still, gazing at each other as if no one else in the world existed. Backing out of the breakroom, Jack mumbled, “Catch you later, Ernie,” and disappeared.

Ernie’s heartbeat thundered in his ears.

“Pritchard,” she said at last in a gravelly voice. “I’ll get my coffee and leave you to your business.” She dove for the pot of hot sludge as if it was a life raft.

No. He couldn’t let her leave. Nor could he find words as he watched her pour herself a cup with slightly trembling hands.

“Millie, please,” he managed at last. “I’ve been waiting for you to call.” Not very smooth, but he might as well get to the point.

“We can’t talk about this here,” she said, taking a too-large gulp of coffee and coughing.

“Then where?”

“We can’t talk about this anywhere.”

That was what he was afraid of. What recourse did he have if she pushed him away?

He took a step toward her. She took a step back, holding her coffee in front of her as if she planned to defend herself with it.

“Millie, please. All I want to do is talk.”

That was a complete lie. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. He wanted to⁠—

No. Best not to let his mind go there.

For now, he would take what he could get—anything to be close to her.

Her cup slowly lowered. Her lips parted. No sound came out.

“Please,” he whispered, putting all he felt in his heart into that tiny word.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“All right,” she said at last. “But not here. I’ll call you from Bellefonte this evening. Then we’ll have some privacy.”

Thank God she caved.

“You still have my number?”

Her cheeks flushed pink, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Yes.”

She patted her pocket. A wave of elation washed over him at the knowledge that she cared enough not only to keep it but to carry it with her. Perhaps all was not lost!

“I’ll be waiting by the phone.”

Her eyes flickered to him and then away.

“You should go before anyone comes in and gets suspicious. I already worry about what Thompson must think.”

Jack would keep their secrets. But she was right to be cautious.

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll talk to you tonight.”

He lingered a moment too long, and she shooed him out with her hand.

Rushing back to his car, he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or even more wound up than before. She was going to call, but what would she say? Clearly, she was hesitant to speak to him at all. Whatever she had to say couldn’t be good. He was only hastening his own demise by pushing to speak to her. But he had to have a chance to make his case, which was…what exactly?

Oh, dear. What was he going to say? He hadn’t a clue. All he knew was that he needed to see her again. And again. And again. Until either this mad infatuation petered out or they wound up married.

Ernie nearly crashed into a lamppost when the word “married” crossed his mind.

How could a word that felt so wrong for him until moments ago suddenly feel so right? He imagined what life would be like married to her, waking up every day with her in his arms. They would fly around the world together. And when they were ready, they would have tiny, feisty, little pilot babies with big blue eyes and golden hair like their mama.

Oh, dear Lord. Was he in love with Millie Aldrich?

The thought made him shiver in horror. Of all the people in the world to fall for, why did it have to be her? They barely got along, except when they were in bed. Then he thought about their study date that ended at the speakeasy. He was hard pressed to come up with another evening he’d enjoyed more, despite their skirmishes.

And what about that snow day in Bellefonte, throwing snowballs and eating an awkward dinner with Jack? She made him laugh. They had fun together. He’d never met another woman so daring and brave. It wasn’t just the sex. Something about her appealed to him deeply. He wanted to spend time with her, hear what she had to say. Even their arguments he enjoyed. She was a strong woman with strong views, and he respected that.

He had it bad. There was no denying it.

When he got home, he had the house to himself. The twins were at school. Constance was in class. His mother was out running errands. Pop was out at the church, as always.

He sat down at the desk in the sitting room and pulled out a pen and paper. Maybe he could find the right words to make his case before Millie called.

Fifteen minutes later, the page in front of him was still blank. He put down the pen in defeat. Writing had never been his strong suit.

Inspiration. That was what he needed. Going over to the bookshelf, he pulled down the collected works of Shakespeare. Surely the Bard would have a line or two he could use.

He remembered reading “Much Ado about Nothing” in high school. Beatrice and Benedick bickered like him and Millie, and they fell in love. Maybe there was a line that would suit?

At last, he found the right words and wrote them across the top of his paper.

“I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.”

She had defeated him, utterly. He had lost the fight and was glad of it.

But did he dare state his feelings so plainly? What if she rejected him out of hand? He couldn’t make a declaration of love over the phone. He needed to see her, hold her hand in his as he spoke, look into her eyes.

What he needed to do was convince her to see him. If he could get her to agree, he could pour out his heart in person. He could only pray she didn’t laugh or run away when he stated his case. Somehow, he suspected she wouldn’t. She was soft-hearted underneath her bristly persona. She cared about Vera, and her friend, Katherine. No, she wouldn’t laugh. At the very least, she would hear him out.

“Son?”

Pop’s voice interrupted Ernie’s reverie. Turning around, he saw a smile on his father’s usually stern face. Pop stood there in a starched suit a decade out of date with his mangled hand in his pocket looking amused for once instead of judgmental.

“You look like I did when I was working up the courage to ask for your mother’s hand. Who is this woman that’s got you pulling out the Shakespeare?”

Did he dare tell? While Pop was stern with his family, with his congregation, he put on a kindly face. The kind of face you couldn’t help but trust. When Pop gave a certain look—head tilted, brow furrowed, an indulgent smile playing across his lips—people couldn’t help but spill their sins and seek absolution. That was the look he was giving Ernie right now. He had the same, sympathetic, penetrating, dark eyes as Constance. Ernie was no more immune than any other member of his father’s flock. He never had been able to keep a secret when confronted.

“Her name is Millie. I think I’m in love with her, Pop, but at the moment she barely wants to speak to me.”

His father’s grin widened. “Someone finally captured your heart, eh? Glad to hear it. It’s about time you put an end to your wandering ways.”

“Pop, I didn’t⁠—”

“Yes, you did. You think I didn’t know what you’ve been up to, going out all the time?”

Ernie’s face burned. All this time, he thought he’d been discreet. Of course, Pop knew he went out, but Ernie always said he was going out to meet friends. He didn’t realize Pop saw right through him.

Barely able to meet his father’s eyes, he said, “I didn’t know you knew.”

Pop put a hand on Ernie’s shoulder and shook his head.

“I know I’ve been hard on you growing up, but it’s only because I want you to be better than me.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “I was young and handsome once too, you know. I did things I regret before I met your mother. And the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, as they say.” Pop’s eyes bored into him.

Ernie tried to wrap his head around this new information. His father had always seemed rigid, unyielding, but suddenly he was all too human—a man who made mistakes, a man with a past.

“But if you knew, why didn’t you say something?”

His father shook his head. “I’ve done the best I can to teach you the difference between right and wrong. But you’re a grown man. I see what you do for our family and what it costs you. I may not like it, but I understand all too well. And it’s not my place to tell you what to do any more.”

Pop squeezed Ernie’s shoulder.

“Besides, I knew the right woman would come along eventually to straighten you out. I prayed for you, and now I see my prayers have been answered.”

Ernie always thought Pop was born pious. And yet, now that he knew, it made perfect sense.

“You should invite Millie over for dinner. I’d love to meet her,” Pop continued.

“I’ll think about it.”

He couldn’t imagine inviting Millie over for dinner. Especially not when she was barely willing to speak to him. Though he’d have to do it eventually now that Pop had raised it. But that was a problem for another time.

The phone rang.

Ernie ran for it, his father chuckling behind his back.

“Pritchard residence,” he said, picking up.

“Ernie?”

It was Millie. Thank God.

“Yes, it’s me.”

There was a long silence.

“What did you want to say?”

It was now or never.

“I have feelings for you, Millie. I need to see you again.”

I have feelings for you? That was the best he could do? And no preamble either. He just dove in.

“Ernie, I…” She tapered off.

“There’s something between us. I know it. You feel it too. I’m certain.”

Maddening silence. How could she deny this? He thought of the night after her first flight over Hell’s Stretch when they each thought the other was lost. She devoured him with such desperation he could hardly keep up. She felt the tug between them every bit as much as he did. It was clear in her eyes, in her actions, in everything but her words.

“I do,” she admitted at last, and Ernie’s heart soared. There was hope!

“But nothing about our circumstances has changed,” she continued. “This is as bad an idea as it ever was.”

“We can keep it secret. No one has found us out yet. If we’re careful, I don’t see why we can’t keep it that way.”

He wished it wasn’t necessary, but he understood.

She sighed. “All right. This is a terrible idea, but I can’t fight it anymore. Meet me at the Blind Pig at eight o’clock on Monday.” She gave him an address, which he scribbled down in a rush.

Ernie exhaled. “Thank you, Millie. You won’t regret it.”

“I already regret it.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there anyway. I promise.”

He hated that she already regretted this, but it wasn’t worth arguing.

“All right.”

“Listen, Ernie, I should go. There’s someone waiting to use the phone booth.”

Much as he wished he could keep her on the line until he’d soothed all of her doubts, he knew he had to let her go.

“Be safe out there. I’ll see you Monday.”

“See you Monday.”

There was a click, and he hung up the receiver. Monday seemed an eternity away.

22

“Ineed your help, Beth.”

It was noon on Monday, a full eight hours before she was supposed to see Ernie. Millie stood in the living room in a silk robe, her wet hair wrapped in a towel.

“Help with what?” Beth asked, looking up from her book.

This was going to be humiliating, but it was time to confess. She lost the bet fair and square, and she needed Beth’s help to get ready for her date with Ernie.

“I’m going out this evening.”

A triumphant grin spread across Beth’s face. “With Ernie Pritchard?”

Millie sighed. “Yes, with Ernie.”

“I knew this would happen!”

Trying not to roll her eyes, Millie walked over to the hook next to the front door where her purse hung, and she pulled out a crisp twenty-dollar bill.

Beth walked up to her and plucked it from her hand.

“I always win. You should have known better,” Beth said with a smug smile as she tucked the bill into her own purse.

Gritting her teeth, Millie swallowed a retort.

“Now what do you need help with?” Could Beth possibly look any more pleased with herself?

“I want to look good but not ostentatious. We can’t have any gossip columnists writing about us or snapping photos. How do I make myself look attractive for Ernie but unremarkable for the rest of the world?”

Tapping her index finger on her lip, Beth looked Millie up and down.

“I have a black velvet number that should suit you to a T. You’ll blend in with everyone else wearing black. It isn’t showy like your beaded dresses, but it will hug your curves beautifully, and it’s heaven to touch. He won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”

The thought of Ernie’s hands on her sent shivers down Millie’s spine. She bit her lip.

“Ooh. You have it bad,” Beth observed, missing nothing. “We’d better show up at least half an hour before him so that it doesn’t look like we were there to meet him.”

“We?” Oh, no. Was Beth saying what she thought she was saying?

“I’m going with you, of course. Then it will look like a girls’ night out instead of a date. No one will think anything of it if you dance a few dances with a gentleman who you just happened to meet while you were out with your friend. Besides, I can be your lookout. If any reporter shows up, I can warn you.”

It was a good plan, much to Millie’s chagrin. The only downside was that Beth would get to observe every minute detail of her behavior with Ernie and then tease her about it for the rest of eternity. But Beth was right. The two of them together would attract less notice.

“I’ll dress to the nines, and you can be my dowdy friend,” Beth said, enjoying this far too much. “Let me pin your finger wave before your hair dries,” she said, tugging at the towel.

“All right,” Millie said, surrendering.

“To the plan or to your hair.”

“Both.”

Beth was never going to let her live this down, but what were friends for?

Millie knew the instant Ernie came in the door. She could feel his eyes boring into her with an intensity that made her cheeks heat, despite the fact that she’d spent the last half hour feeling like a pigeon next to a peacock in the dim and busy speakeasy. The tables were packed, and the dance floor roiled with soused couples.

Beth’s plan was working a little too well. All eyes were on Beth in her red, beaded dress with the scooped back that barely covered her knees. Their gazes slid off Millie’s unadorned outfit, modest jewelry, and muted makeup.

A bevy of men surrounded them, all ogling Beth, vying to ask her to dance and buy her drinks.

No one spared Millie a glance as Ernie glided up to her without a word, took her hand, and pulled her to the dance floor. No one except Beth, that was, whose gaze followed them, her face brimming with amusement.

Ernie’s arms enveloped her, pulling her as close as decency would allow as the band started a foxtrot. His thumb stroked the soft fabric on her back, and everyone in the world disappeared except the two of them.

“You look breathtaking,” he murmured in her ear.

She melted into his embrace.

“Is your friend discreet?” he asked, glancing at Beth.

Millie nodded. “We thought it would be best if it looked like I was out with her and met you by chance, in case anyone was watching.”

“Very sensible.” His lips brushed her hair. Warmth coiled within her.

They traversed the floor in perfect sync, their bodies moving together, legs brushing. Close as they were, she craved more.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me,” Ernie said. “I had to see you.”

“It’s a terrible idea.”

“But you came.”

Millie didn’t much care that it was a terrible idea while he was touching her and moving with her like this. She longed to draw him into a dark corner and go further. Much, much further. Could they possibly sneak away to a hotel without attracting notice?

Mildred, what are you thinking?

“Yes, I came,” she said, breathless for reasons having nothing to do with the foxtrot. “I wanted to see you too.”

It cost her to admit it. Ernie was a bad habit she couldn’t seem to quit. He stirred things within her. And it wasn’t only physical attraction. If she was being honest, she had feelings for him too. She’d known it ever since that night when she thought he’d died in the fog over the Alleghenies.

No. She couldn’t afford to give in. Too much depended on her. And she still didn’t entirely trust him.

But all her worries seemed distant and unimportant while he was so close.

“Millie, you know I have feelings for you. Do you have feelings for me?”

How could he ask that? It was too direct, too difficult to deflect.

“Yes,” she admitted at last, unable to deny the obvious truth. “But it doesn’t matter because we can’t do anything about it.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered, pulling her indecently close.

His hard chest pressed against her breasts, and it was all she could do not to moan.

“We’ll find a way to be together,” he said, brushing his lips across her forehead.

He really shouldn’t have done that, but it felt so good. They were risking too much, and she couldn’t stop.

Did she believe that he cared for her, though? Could she trust him? She’d let Barney break her heart and had sworn never to allow herself to be vulnerable like that again. And yet Ernie’s sentimental declaration thrilled her. She wanted to believe. In her heart, she did believe, even as her mind blared warnings.

Her resistance was melting as she breathed in the spicy scent of his aftershave mixed with an earthy scent all his own.

“Ernie?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you mean it when you said you cared for me?”

She held her breath as she waited for his reply.

“Of course, I meant it.”

He stepped back slightly to look her in the eyes as they maneuvered around another dancing couple. “In fact, I’ll prove it to you. Come have dinner with my family tomorrow night. They will assure you that I’ve never brought a woman home to meet them before. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.”

Dinner with his family? Heavens. That sounded terribly serious. Did she dare say yes?

“I’ll come,” she said at last. Curiosity got the better of her.

Ernie grinned and gave her a spin, clutching her close as she returned to him.

“We aren’t fancy,” he warned. “We live in a simple townhouse in Brooklyn.”

“I didn’t grow up rich, you know. It will be a pleasure to go somewhere unpretentious and have a good, home-cooked meal. I miss that.”

The song ended, and another started. She hardly noticed as the rhythm of their steps adjusted to the new beat.

“My family will love you, though I should warn you they can be rather overwhelming all together.”

“I can’t wait to meet them, especially your sisters. They sound like very interesting and independent young women.”

Ernie chuckled. “That they are. You and they have that in common.”

He twirled them around, and Millie saw a flash of red. When they stopped, Beth was right next to them, dancing with the handsomest man in the room aside from Ernie.

“Reporter,” Beth murmured just loud enough for Millie to hear and nodded toward a table in the back.

“Thanks,” Millie whispered back.

“There’s a reporter here?” Ernie whispered as they traversed the dance floor. “I thought speakeasies liked to keep a low profile. Why would they let him in?”

“They probably don’t know what he does. If he knows the password and buys drinks, they don’t ask questions. Besides, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to name the place in his articles. He would just say he saw so and so out on the town.”

“What do you think we should do?” Ernie’s muscles tensed around her.

“Finish this dance and go to the bar. You should buy me a drink and then go home. I’ll stay here with Beth and dance with some other people so that he doesn’t suspect we’re more than casual acquaintances.”

His jaw clenched, but he nodded. For the rest of the song, he kept a decorous distance, though the intensity of his gaze never abated.

When he led her to the bar, she felt oddly bereft. He was no longer holding her in his arms, and she missed it.

“What can I buy you?”

“Martini, please,” she answered.

Flagging down the bartender, he ordered a martini and a whiskey. While they waited for their drinks to arrive, he wrote his address on a bar napkin, and she tucked it into her purse.

“We usually eat around seven. Does that work for you?”

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

Their drinks arrived, and she took a sip. Thank God for martinis. She needed something to cool the raging heat coursing through her in his presence. There was still a part of her tempted to throw caution to the wind and ask him to meet her at a hotel so that they could finish what they’d started on the dance floor.

“Good God I want to kiss you,” she blurted after her third sip.

A wicked smile played across his lips. “The feeling is mutual.”

“Maybe if we left separately, the reporter wouldn’t notice.”

It was risky, but she couldn’t imagine the evening ending without at least a kiss. The martini must really be going to her head if she was contemplating something like this. But at that moment, she didn’t care.

“Wait five minutes after I leave and then follow. I’ll be at the tobacconist up the street.”

“But you don’t smoke.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t kill five minutes buying cigarettes. No one will suspect I’m waiting for you.”

And so, a few minutes later, after a quick word with Beth, she wandered by the tobacconist, and Ernie just happened to come out as she passed, tucking a pack of cigarettes into his breast pocket.

She glanced behind her and only saw Ernie, so she ducked into a dark alley, and he followed.

Grabbing his lapels, she pulled him against her. His lips met hers, and everything else dropped away. There was nothing but this kiss, the feel of his body against hers. His warmth. His scent.

He drove her to distraction. His lips and tongue answered hers in a desperate dance.

Throwing caution to the wind, she took his hand and moved it to her breast. He moaned into her mouth.

“Millie,” he gasped. “We have to stop, or I’m going to take you up against the wall right here.”

Good. That was exactly what she wanted. Caution be damned.

Ernie stepped back, putting some distance between them. Why did he have to be such a gentleman?

“Go back to Beth. I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll figure out what to do from there.”

So disappointing.

“Fine. I’ll go.” She straightened her skirts and patted her hair, hoping she didn’t look too ravaged.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, caressing her cheek.

“Seven o’clock.” She kissed his hand.

Stepping out of the alley and into the beam of the streetlight, she glanced back over her shoulder. Good God, he was handsome, and the loving look in his eyes was almost too much to bear.

There was a click. She looked around for the source of the noise but saw nothing. With a sigh, she turned around and headed back to the club.

23

The pit in Ernie’s stomach had been growing all day. Millie was coming to dinner, and he wanted everything to be perfect. He’d done every cleaning task Mom set out for him without complaint. By the time he washed up and changed, he was worn out, not so much by the cleaning as by the anticipation.

He’d never invited a woman home to meet his family, not since that disaster in high school when he wanted to take Ellen to a dance. No sense reliving that. But Ernie was a grown man now. His parents wouldn’t humiliate him like that. If anything, they were as worked up as him about Millie’s visit.

Mom seemed to be making Christmas dinner several months early, from the smells coming from the kitchen. He’d helped her heft the goose back from the market. It was big enough to feed a family three times their size.

Pop spent the day gardening and humming hymns, always a sign of high agitation.

His sisters seemed to have lost their minds and turned into a squealing, giggling, gaggle of fashion-obsessed fools. Even Constance, who usually kept her head. The pressure of a celebrity socialite coming to dinner proved too much. Little did they know Millie wore pants more often than not—a far cry from how fashion magazines depicted her.

The noise levels in the house reached record highs until the doorbell rang at seven o’clock sharp.

Then there was dead silence.

Ernie walked downstairs to the front door with all the care and attention of a man going to diffuse a bomb.

Or set one off.

Hard to say which.

He opened the door, and there was Millie in a simple, dark blue coat and matching hat. She was carrying the ugliest cake he’d ever seen and looking every bit as nervous as he felt. It was definitely homemade.

With her big, hopeful eyes, she was the most endearing sight he’d ever seen.

God, he loved this woman.

He smiled with all the warmth and tenderness he felt for her, and she smiled back nervously.

“I made it myself,” she said, breaking the silence. “I wanted to bring something. I’m not much of a cook, but…”

“It looks delicious. Come in. Mom’s cooked a feast.”

He led her up the stairs, and she stopped halfway up, staring at the framed portraits on the walls.

“Did you do these?”

Suddenly self-conscious, he needed a moment to find his tongue.

“Y-yes. For Christmas every year, I draw a portrait of each member of the family. These are the most recent.”

“They’re incredible, Ernie.”

She’d seen a few of his sketches but never a finished work. Did she truly like them? He was only an amateur.

He cleared his throat, not knowing how to respond to her compliment.

“The dining room is through here,” he said, gesturing toward the door to the parlor level.

Leading her into the dining room, he saw his whole family lined up in a row against the wall, like troops at inspection. When did his family become quiet and orderly?

As soon as she saw Millie, Mom rushed forward.

“So nice to meet you, Miss Aldrich. What a lovely cake,” she said, taking the confection and putting it in the middle of the table in a place of honor.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Aldrich. May I take your coat?” Pop said, as Millie hurriedly took off her coat and hat, revealing a modest, light blue dress that matched her eyes perfectly.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Miss Aldrich,” Constance said, shaking Millie’s hand. “I’m Constance, and this is Prudence and Verity. We’re excited to get to know you. Ernie has been very tight-lipped.”

“Yes, he has,” Verity piped up. “But we’ve read all about you. Is it true you invented a new trick that no one had ever done before for your performances?”

“Is it true that you only use Maybelline makeup?” Prudence asked before Millie could answer. “Mom won’t let me wear makeup yet. She says I’m too young.”

“What was it like growing up in the circus?” Verity interrupted.

“Have you read ‘The Mysterious Affair at Styles’ by Agatha Christie? If not, you should, I could lend it to you,” Prudence said, nudging her sister aside.

It was time to intervene.

“Girls, let’s give Miss Aldrich a moment to sit down and get settled before giving her the third degree,” Ernie said, pulling Millie away from his sisters.

Fortunately, Millie seemed to be on the verge of laughter, taking the barrage from his sisters in stride.

He pulled out a chair for her and helped her be seated, then took a seat beside her. Constance took the seat on her other side, much to his relief. Prudence and Verity sat next to Mom on the other side of the table, and Pop sat at the head of the table, as always.

There was a crisp, white, starched linen tablecloth on the table, and Mom had gotten out the good China, hand-painted with roses by Grandma Elsworth. The cloth napkins were embroidered by Constance with light blue flowers. It was a far cry from what she was probably used to, but it was the very best his family had to offer.

He tried not to worry that they were too shabby for Millie. She didn’t grow up rich. Hopefully she wouldn’t judge their humble home too harshly.

“Everything looks beautiful,” Millie said, “and the food smells delicious. Thank you so much for having me! It’s been far too long since I had a home-cooked meal, especially since my parents moved to Florida.”

Ernie reached beneath the tablecloth and squeezed her hand to thank her for saying exactly the right thing. She squeezed it back, and his shoulders relaxed at last. He hadn’t realized how worried he was about her first impressions of his home.

“Let’s say grace,” Pop said when they were all seated. He offered a brief blessing, and then Mom started passing around plates.

“You said your parents live in Florida?” Pop asked.

“They like the warm weather, and my mother needed to move to a warm place for her health.”

“Ah. That makes sense. You’re originally from Garden City, is that right?” Mom asked, pouring water into everyone’s glasses.

“That’s right,” said Millie with a smile. “I loved it in Garden City. Our lives were so much simpler there. Things got complicated when my career took off.”

“I read in a magazine that you traveled a lot. What was that like?” Constance asked, passing a bowl of mashed potatoes.

Meanwhile, Pop was carving the goose and serving everyone piping hot slices that smelled like heaven.

“I liked it at first,” Millie said. “It was an adventure, but some of the people in Europe weren’t very nice to me, especially in France. I didn’t like it much there. I’ve been back since for air shows and still far prefer the good old U. S. of A.”

“You lived in California for a while, didn’t you?” Verity chimed in, just as Millie was about to take a bite. “Is it really covered in palm trees? They look so spikey and strange. I can’t imagine what it must be like there.”

“I lived in Los Angeles,” Millie said, putting down her fork. “I was doing stunt work for a movie studio. And yes, there really are a lot of palm trees, and yes, they look that strange.”

“Verity, dear,” Mom said, observing Millie’s uneaten forkful. “Why don’t you tell Miss Aldrich about yourself instead of peppering her with questions?”

Verity’s eyes went wide, and her mouth shut tight. Her face turned pink. Was Verity feeling shy? Ernie couldn’t remember the last time Verity was tongue-tied in front of someone.

“I’m sure she’d love to hear about all that stargazing you’re doing with your telescope,” Mom prompted.

Verity’s brow furrowed, and she bit her lip.

“I really would,” Millie said with a smile.

Looking all around the table and finding no help, Verity took a deep breath and then launched into an extended explanation of her amateur astronomy activities, which, thankfully, gave everyone else a chance to eat.

Ernie glanced at Millie. Her face was alight with enjoyment. Relief washed through him at the sight.

He managed to take some bites of food. Mom really outdid herself. The meal was delicious. It might not be the work of a French chef, but it was the best home-cooked meal he could imagine.

Soon Prudence was chiming in with tales of her ambitions to become a Pinkerton. Between them, the twins chattered away until everyone was so full that they couldn’t take another bite.

“How did you and Ernie meet?” Constance asked during a lull in the twins’ prattling.

Millie turned pink and glanced at Ernie, who squeezed her hand beneath the table.

“I took a job flying the mail,” she said, looking sheepish. “Ernie was assigned to show me the routes. New pilots with the airmail trail experienced pilots to learn the lay of the land, and then they fly the routes trailed by their instructors to make sure they’ve learned them properly.”

“And it was love at first sight?” Constance asked with a knowing smile.

Millie’s blush deepened.

“Not exactly,” Ernie said, jumping in. “She didn’t think much of me at first.”

“No, I did not,” Millie said, glancing at him. “I believe I called him a no-good cad.”

“Which I deserved.”

“Yes, you did.” Millie winked at him, which made inappropriate thoughts spring to mind. “But then I got to know him better. I learned how loyal and dedicated he is, and how much he cares about all of you. And he really is one of the finest pilots I’ve ever met. Not to mention, he can be very charming when he wants to be.”

Ernie’s heart soared. She really did care!

Constance chuckled. “Ah yes. My brother is very charming. It gets him into trouble more often than not, but for once he’s used his powers for good.”

Millie laughed. She’d taken him to task as no one else had over how he used his charm.

“I didn’t think much of her either, at first,” Ernie said, wanting to tell his side of the story. “I thought she was being reckless signing up for such a dangerous job, and that it was all a publicity stunt. Little did I know what a superb pilot she was or how fiercely dedicated she would be to the work. She cares deeply about giving women aviators a chance to prove themselves, and she’s been quite the trailblazer for their cause. I couldn’t help but fall for her.”

And he had. Absolutely. His heart was hers.

“My son is very blessed to have met you,” Pop said. “You don’t know how long I’ve prayed he would meet the right woman and settle down.”

Settle down? Oh, dear. Ernie wanted Millie in his life, but they hadn’t quite gotten that far.

Glancing at Millie, he saw she was smiling at him with an amused twinkle in her eye.

“My dear, you’re embarrassing them,” Mom said, putting her hand on Pop’s. “Would anyone like cake?”

Mom sliced and served Millie’s cake with as much flourish as if it was a prize-winning confection at a fair.

It was with some trepidation that Ernie took a bite. He had no idea what to expect and was determined to praise it no matter what.

He was pleasantly surprised to find it delicious. Much like Millie, it hid surprising sweetness beneath a forbidding exterior.

“Mmm. Millie, this is so good,” he said, looking up to find her watching with avid attention.

She exhaled, and her shoulders relaxed at his words.

“Thank heavens! I’ve never been much good at making things pretty, but I’m glad at least it tastes good.”

“Delicious,” Verity concurred between bites. “Chocolate is my favorite.”

The cake was polished off in no time. Millie looked as proud as if she’d broken his Chicago to New York record.

As the meal drew to a close, Millie glanced sadly at the grandfather clock by the wall.

“I’m afraid I should get home. I have to fly tomorrow. It was so lovely meeting all of you. I hope to see you again soon!”

Millie said her goodbyes, and Ernie walked her downstairs.

In the entryway, alone with her at last, he did what he had been dying to do all evening and kissed her. He’d never kissed someone under his parents’ roof before. He half expected to be struck down by lightning or, just as bad, interrupted and told off. But none of those things happened.

It was the sweetest kiss they’d shared yet, filled with longing and tenderness instead of passion and need. Maybe, just maybe, Millie was the woman he wanted to settle down with. Maybe they could make a life together despite everything against them. His family was clearly charmed by her, and the feeling was mutual as far as he could tell. Who would ever have expected Millie Aldrich to fit in so well with the plain old Pritchards?

As they broke their kiss, he murmured into her hair, “I’m falling in love with you, Millie.”

She pulled back and gave him the saddest look. “I’m falling for you too. Whatever are we going to do?”

He didn’t know, but together, they’d figure it out.

24

Millie spotted the headline as soon as she came into Mr. Dickson’s office. FLYING FEMME FATALE FALLS FOR FELLOW PILOT. Her heart sank through the floor. They’d been caught. And if Mr. Dickson had this, then Mr. Burleson must have seen it too. Her dream of opening the airmail to lady pilots was dead before she even managed to break a record.

Mr. Dickson looked like a teapot about to whistle. His perfectly sharpened pencils were fanned out on his desk, bristling in all directions. Ernie had warned her about Mr. Dickson and his pencils. This was not a good sign.

“Miss Aldrich,” Mr. Dickson said brusquely, gesturing toward the plain metal chair in front of his desk. “Would you care to explain this?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, trying to maintain her dignity, though she had a pretty good idea of what was to come.

“This,” Mr. Dickson said, handing her the Town Tattler issue that had been open on his desk.

Millie glanced quickly through the article. She’d been featured in similar articles countless times when she was dating Barney. If it only named her, she was safe, but she had a sinking feeling this article named Ernie.

And there it was. Ernest Pritchard.

They were discovered.

To make things worse, there was an engraving of her looking longingly over her shoulder at a man who looked just like Ernie. Someone must have snapped a photo of them when they were out.

“I see.” That was all she was going to say until she knew Mr. Dickson’s intent.

“Do you? Do you see?” Mr. Dickson’s brows were deeply furrowed, and his voice was pitched dangerously low. “Did you notice that it mentions the airmail operation?”

Oh, yes, she had. This was going to be ugly.

“Do you have any idea how unprofessional this makes us look?” Mr. Dickson continued. “This isn’t a dance hall, Miss Aldrich. This is the United States Postal Service. We cannot countenance this kind of fraternization in our ranks. I knew we never should have allowed you to join. Now I’m going to have to lose one of my best pilots over it.”

She perked up for a moment.

“You think I’m one of your best pilots?”

Under the circumstances, she would take whatever positive she could find in this awful situation.

“Not you,” Mr. Dickson said with withering disdain. “Pritchard.”

Oh, no. In her heart of hearts, she’d always known they would find a reason to push her out. She was torn between being devastated to have let down her fellow female pilots and being furious about the standard to which she was held. But to have Ernie lose his job over this too… And his whole family depended on him. What would he do?

“It goes without saying that your time flying the mail is at an end as well. I spoke to Mr. Burleson this morning, and he agreed that this little experiment was over,” Mr. Dickson continued. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s good riddance.”

He was just looking for an excuse, wasn’t he?

Well, if she was already fired, she was going to give him a piece of her mind.

“Mr. Dickson, I flew the mail as well as any man on this team, and I don’t see how my personal life is any of your business. You knew before I was hired that my name ends up in papers like this on a regular basis. I don’t see why I should lose my job over a little bit of idle gossip.”

She stood and stepped to the front of his desk, leaning in, as she warmed to her topic.

“Furthermore, you clearly have something against women flying the mail. If you ask me, you were looking for any flimsy excuse to get rid of me. You may be pretending to be outraged, but I think you’re secretly pleased to be rid of me.”

Mr. Dickson’s mustache twitched, and he stood so that they were eye to eye.

“You’re damned right, missy. Women don’t belong in airplanes. You’re a menace in the air and a distraction for the good men trying to go about the government’s business. It was a waste of taxpayer dollars to bring you on board. Mr. Burleson must have been under tremendous pressure to agree to something like this. Wasn’t it enough for you ladies that you won the vote? Did you have to come and meddle in men’s workplaces too?”

Millie straightened and put her hands on her hips.

“This isn’t over, Mr. Dickson. I’ll find a way to prove you wrong.”

It was over, and she knew it. But she wasn’t going down without a fight.

“You go ahead and try, Miss Aldrich. You just go ahead and try.”

His eyes sparked with zealous fury. There was no point in arguing further. The man was clearly beyond reason.

She turned around and stormed out.

Seething, she jumped into her roadster and peeled out of the parking lot. All too soon, she arrived at the ferry and was forced to stop.

Stopping meant thinking, and thinking was no good.

Guilt rained down on her as the magnitude of her failure sank in. Thanks to her weakness, airmail jobs would be closed to women for who knew how long. She’d let down her sex, struck a blow against professional women pilots. And who knew what would happen to the funding for the airmail operation without her help? She’d let them all down for a man.

And she’d let him down too. If she’d never given in to the attraction between them, he’d never have lost his job. His family wouldn’t be in danger of penury because of their actions.

Love cost too much, and she was a fool to fall into its trap.

Somehow, she had to make this right, and that started with ending things with Ernie. If she wanted to be taken seriously as a professional pilot, she couldn’t afford to have a man by her side. This mad relationship had cost them both far too much. Surely, he would agree after he heard the news from Mr. Dickson. Yes, it was for the best for both of them if they broke it off.

She still had her airplane. Now that she had some distance experience, she could set some records on her own, go back to the barnstorming circuit. Maybe if she broke some records she could go back to Mr. Burleson and advocate for other women to be allowed to join the airmail, even if she herself was banned for life. Her days of flying the mail might be over, but she had to do her part for the Gerties of the world. They were just as good as men in the air and deserved a fair chance at those jobs.

The jagged skyline of Manhattan got closer and closer as the ferry approached the dock. The Woolworth Building loomed like an accusing finger. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, but she dashed them away. She couldn’t allow her weakness to overcome her.

Stiffening her spine, she got back in her car for the drive back to her apartment. When she arrived, she headed straight upstairs. Beth was out. Was it too early for a martini?

The morning sun was still streaming through the east windows. Definitely too early.

She sat next to the phone but couldn’t bring herself to dial Ernie. It was only delaying the inevitable. He deserved a warning about what he was walking into next time he went to work, but if she talked to him, she would have to end things. And after the morning she’d had, she couldn’t quite face it.

After staring at the phone for five solid minutes, she finally picked up the receiver.

Best to get this over with, Mildred. It has to be done.

The operator connected her call, and the ring tone through the phone tolled like a funeral knell.

There was a click and static as someone picked up. Her heart jumped. She stopped breathing.

“Pritchard residence, Ernie speaking.”

Oh, God. It was him. She’d half hoped he wouldn’t be home. Her throat was suddenly terribly dry.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

She swallowed, hoping her voice would work.

“Ernie, it’s me. Millie.”

“Millie! I’m so glad you called.” He paused. “But is everything all right? You sound upset.”

The temptation to lie and say everything was fine was almost overwhelming. What if she didn’t say anything? What if she asked to see him and invited him out for drinks? Wouldn’t this be easier with alcohol?

“No, I’m afraid things are not all right,” she said at last. “A reporter saw us. It’s in the Town Tattler. Mr. Dickson saw, and…”

She couldn’t go on. Her throat closed up.

“And?” The edge of panic in his voice made her wince.

“…and he’s firing us both.”

Dead silence.

“Ernie?”

More silence.

“Oh, God. What am I going to do?” he whispered at last. “My family,” he said slightly louder then trailed off.

“I’m so sorry, Ernie. I know how much you need this job. We should never have…” She couldn’t say it aloud. “The cost was too high.”

There was a long silence.

“No,” he said at last.

“No?”

“No,” he said firmly. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I can’t bring myself to regret you. We’ll figure it out. Somehow, we’ll find a way forward together.”

“You can’t mean… Ernie, we can’t keep seeing each other after this. We have to end it. This proves we should never have gotten together in the first place. It was a mistake from beginning to end, and now we’re paying the price.”

“What? That makes no sense. I⁠—”

“Don’t make this harder than it already is.” The phone cord was wrapped around her hands, and she was twisting it into knots.

“Please, Millie. Listen to me. I⁠—”

“Don’t. Please don’t. It’s better if we make a clean break. I wish you all the best.”

“Don’t hang up that phone, Millie. Please don’t⁠—”

Click.

It was over.

No more Ernie.

She was doing the right thing for both of them, so why did she feel even worse after hanging up the phone?

Ernie would come around eventually. He’d see that she was right. This wasn’t meant to be. The pain would ebb with time, and they’d both move on with their lives. It really was for the best.

A tear dripped down her cheek. And then another. She rushed to her bedroom and grabbed a handkerchief, dabbing the tears away.

Pull it together, Mildred. It’s only a man.

Only Ernie.

The drips turned into a torrent as she sobbed on her bed.

No more men. It wasn’t worth it. It hurt too much. She should have learned her lesson after Barney, but no. She had to go and fall for a man again. Well, no more.

Millie Aldrich was going to stand on her own two feet and stay as far away from romance as possible.

25

Ernie stood staring at the phone for several minutes after he hung up, hoping against hope that she would call and take it all back. His mind was like a skipping record, unable to progress. Mere minutes ago, everything had been fine. He had a job. He was in love. And now…

It was too much to take in. The growing pit in his stomach told him his body was starting to absorb the damage his mind refused. Acid churned, sending shots of pain. His airway tightened. He couldn’t breathe, no matter how much air he tried to gulp down.

He fell into a chair, gasping.

His father came in and did a double take.

“Ernie, what happened? Are you all right?”

Raising his eyes with difficulty, Ernie looked at his father. A lump rose in his throat, and he couldn’t speak.

“Son, what’s going on? I’ve never seen you like this.”

How did you tell your father you’d failed him? That you’d failed the entire family? That you risked everything for love and lost? No job. No Millie. He’d let his family down, and for what?

“I…” His voice shook as he tried to form words. He gasped for air.

“Pop, I…” he tried again.

“Yes?”

He had to say the words. They were burning a hole in him, but speaking them would make them real. It would bring down ruin on his family. How could he rob them of their comfort and happiness? And yet hadn’t he known this was the risk? Hadn’t he pursued Millie anyway, consequences be damned? And now even she didn’t want him.

“I’ve been fired,” he said at last. “Mr. Dickson found out about Millie and me, and he’s let us both go.”

There. He’d said it. But instead of relief at confessing, he felt growing pressure, squeezing his lungs. It was real now. There was no taking it back.

His father’s face fell, and his eyes widened. He swallowed hard. “We’ll find a way to get through this, son,” he said, the quaver in his voice belying the reassuring words. “At least you still have Millie. It’s amazing how love can soften the hardest blows.”

“But I don’t,” Ernie said, staring at the floor. “She said the cost was too high, and we had to end things. Then she hung up on me. I sacrificed everything for nothing.”

He squeezed his hands into shaking fists, willing himself to hold it together. His family depended on him. They needed him. He had to figure out how to make this right, but his mind wouldn’t clear. Blood pounded in his head so loudly he could hardly hear his own thoughts.

I’ve let them down. All of them. And it was all for nothing.

His father crouched down in front of him and put a hand on his arm. “Listen to me. We’re going to get through this. We’ll find you another job, and I’m sure with time you’ll figure things out with Millie. And if you don’t, then it wasn’t meant to be. I’m sorry, son. I could tell how much she meant to you.”

Ernie raised his eyes slowly to his father. “You’re not angry with me for risking our livelihood over her?”

His father sighed. “I’m not happy, but I know we’ve placed too heavy a burden on your shoulders. I don’t want you to think you have to sacrifice your happiness for our sakes. I know it feels devastating now, but it was only a job. You can always find another.”

“Not one that pays so well.” What would happen to his sisters? Would Constance have to quit secretarial school? She was so close to finishing.

“No, probably not. But that’s all right. We’ll figure it out. We’re a family of six. You shouldn’t be the only one carrying the load. Together we’ll get through this.”

Ernie took a deep breath, air reaching his lungs at last. His father’s words comforted him. He was lucky to have such a loving family. It wouldn’t do any good for him to panic. He had to find a way forward.

Without Millie.

The thought stung. He wasn’t ready to think about her yet. He’d risked everything and ended up with only heartbreak to show for it.

“I really did love her, Pop. I still do.”

“I know, son.” His father squeezed his shoulder. “God works in mysterious ways. Maybe there’s hope yet.”

He didn’t want hope. It would only cause him further pain, but some part of him couldn’t let go.

“I’d like to go up to my room for a bit.” Comforting as his father was, he needed some time alone.

“Of course. When you’re ready, come find me, and we’ll figure out how to get you a new job. Plenty of folks in my congregation need good workers. I’m sure we’ll find you something.”

He headed upstairs and picked up his sketch pad. His first impulse was to draw Millie, but he stifled it, instead drawing a portrait of his father with slow, deliberate strokes. The flow soothed him and helped him compose himself.

What an idiot he’d been. How could he have let this happen? Every step along the way he knew this was a possibility, and he kept going anyway. He kept coming back to her, risking everything.

He thought she was in this with him, that she shared his feelings. Hadn’t she said so when she came for dinner? The sacrifice might have been worth it if she’d stayed by his side, if they’d faced this together. But he’d been a fool.

She didn’t love him. If she did, she never could have done this. Everything was so neat and orderly before she came along. How could he have let her upset his equilibrium? The women he dated were safe. With them, there was no risk. If he’d only resisted Millie, none of this would have happened. He was happy before he met her.

Wasn’t he?

And yet he couldn’t imagine going back to that life. The thought of casual liaisons with no ties made him shiver. He wanted the inferno, not the pallid flickering flame of surface attraction. Even if it wrecked him.

And it had wrecked him. Quite thoroughly.

His father might have been understanding, but what were his sisters going to say? He’d ruined their prospects with his recklessness. Those were the women he should have been worrying about, not Millie Aldrich. His sisters loved him unconditionally and entrusted him with their futures, and he’d let them down.

Pursuing Millie had been selfish. If only he had been affected, he wouldn’t feel so awful. But his family was going to pay the price for his inability to keep away from her.

How was he ever going to make this right?

Putting down his pencil, he headed downstairs. A part of him hoped his sisters and mother would be furious. It would be easier to take their anger than their understanding and forgiveness. He deserved to be berated. He’d done them wrong.

When he arrived in the sitting room, the whole family was gathered. They were silent as he entered. When had his sisters ever been silent?

Constance looked up at him with far too much compassion. It made him want to run back upstairs and hide. The twins stared into their laps and chewed their lips. Mom furrowed her brow and looked up at him with sorrowful eyes.

Pop stood beside them, a hand on Mom’s shoulder.

“Oh, Ernie, I’m so sorry,” Constance said, breaking the heavy silence.

“Don’t be sorry. I brought this on myself, on all of you. Please don’t try to make me feel better.”

Instead of answering, Constance got up and folded him in a hug.

It was too much. He shuddered with the effort of keeping back his tears. His throat closed again, and his lungs squeezed tight.

Prudence and Verity sprung up from the blue chintz sofa and circled their arms around him too.

Oh, God.

His parents looked at each other then joined the girls.

Pop raised one hand.

“Heavenly Father,” he intoned, “watch over my son. He’s suffering and he needs Your grace. And, Lord, please watch over this family. Hard times are ahead, but we know You would not send us burdens we could not bear. Give us strength in these difficult times. We humbly submit ourselves to Your will, and we trust that You will guide us through this. In the name of Your Son, Jesus Christ, amen.”

“Amen,” murmured the rest of the family, squeezing Ernie tight, then releasing him.

Unable to hold back anymore, a tear streaked down his cheek. And then another. And then a torrent as he sobbed uncontrollably.

His father took him in his arms and patted his back. “It’s all right, son. It’s all right. Let it out. You’ll feel better afterwards, and we can plan for what’s ahead.”

For several minutes, he stood there with his father, beyond thought, carried away by the flood of pain that had been threatening to break through his control ever since the phone call. He was broken open, raw. Lost.

At last, the tide abated, and he could fill his lungs with air again.

“That’s right, son. Breathe. We’re here with you. The Lord is watching over you. You aren’t in this alone.”

Pop guided him to the well-worn leather wingback chair where he typically sat.

“I made a call to Mr. Alderson,” Pop said, standing beside him, a hand on his shoulder. “He’s always looking for an extra hand on his construction crews. You can start tomorrow. It won’t pay what the Postal Service did, but we’ll be able to get by.”

Ernie nodded. He didn’t care what kind of work he did so long as he could bring in a regular paycheck and try to make this right for his family.

“Constance graduates next month, and then she can get a job and help out. We have some savings, thank heavens, and I think we can squeak by until she’s working.”

Her job was supposed to give her independence, not tie her down to the family. But what could he do? It was the only solution, and he knew it. He nodded.

“I don’t mind, Ernie. Really, I don’t,” said Constance. “I know you hoped I would strike out on my own, but to be honest, I’m happy here at home. I want to help support the family.”

He felt sharp stabs of guilt at her words, but what could he say? “Thank you,” was all he managed.

“And you don’t have to give us pin money,” Verity added. “We’re just fine with what we have.”

Prudence nodded in agreement.

His heart broke a little more. He winced.

“We love you,” Prudence said, reaching out and taking his hand.

“I love you too, all of you,” he said in a shaky voice.

And he did. This was the love that mattered. He would never let them down again.

26

“Hey, beautiful, can I buy you a drink?”

The man had blond hair and brown eyes, just like Ernie, except not quite the same shade. The ache Millie had felt ever since she cut things off with him sharpened.

She glared at the stranger until he went away, leaving her alone at the bar with her second martini. It was early, and the Blind Pig wasn’t too busy yet. Beth was already dancing. Of course. Millie tried desperately not to think of the last time she’d seen Ernie here or the feeling of their bodies moving together on the dance floor.

Where were the girls? They should be here by now.

The door opened, and the diminutive frame of Katherine Stinson came into view. Millie waved. Katherine waved back and hurried over for a hug.

“It’s good to see you again so soon! Is everything all right? I was worried when I got your message. What’s so urgent that you need to talk to us about? Not that I mind.”

“I’ll tell you everything as soon as everyone’s here.”

The door opened again, and in came Gertie. The troops were assembled. After hugs and cheek kisses, they settled down at a table together and ordered drinks. Beth joined them when the dance ended.

“Ladies, good to see you all,” said Beth, giving them a salute.

“You too, Beth. You may not be an aviatrix, but you are a part of this club,” said Gertie. “We women have to stick together.”

“Yes, we do,” said Millie, “and that’s why I’ve called you all here. I need your advice.”

“What can we do for you?” asked Katherine, sipping a Manhattan.

“I need to make amends,” Millie said, folding her hands in her lap.

“What on earth for?” Gertie asked, putting down her old-fashioned.

Millie took a deep breath. It was time to confess. “I lost my job at the airmail and ruined our chances of opening it to other women for God knows how long.”

There. She said it.

“Oh, no,” said Katherine. “What flimsy excuse did they use this time?”

Sucking her breath in through her teeth, Millie confessed, “It was my own fault. A tabloid reporter caught me out on a date with another airmail pilot. They fired us both for fraternization.”

She stared at her drink, waiting for her friends’ condemnation.

Instead, Katherine put her hand on hers. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry to hear that. It shouldn’t be any of their business who you date. They really do find the flimsiest excuses.”

“They definitely wanted me out,” Millie said, looking up from her martini. “But it’s my own fault for giving them an excuse. I should never have gone out with Ernie in the first place.”

“Ernie?” asked Gertie. “Isn’t he the one we met in Philadelphia?”

Oh, God. Gertie remembered. This was embarrassing. “Yes. That’s him.”

Gertie laughed. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You had it bad for him. It was obvious.”

Millie could feel her cheeks heating and took a big gulp of her drink.

“Well at least now you and he are free to have as much fun as you’d like,” said Gertie.

“Oh, I ended things with him. Obviously, the cost was too high, and we should never have gone out together in the first place. What I wanted your advice on is how to make this better.”

“With him?” asked Gertie. “I would think that would be self-evident.”

“No, not with him,” Millie said quickly. “With you. With women aviators. I’ve let you all down. What can I do to undo the damage? Should I attempt a cross-country flight? Should I try to join the Air Force?”

They stared at her over their drinks as if she’d lost her mind.

“Darling, what are you talking about?” Beth asked after a long awkward silence.

Katherine patted Millie’s hand. “I don’t know why you think you owe us something, but you don’t. I hope you didn’t break things off with Ernie for our sakes.”

Millie froze. This wasn’t going as she expected. Why were they confused by this? Weren’t they all trying to break barriers too? Didn’t they feel the overwhelming weight of responsibility she felt every time she went up in a plane?

“You don’t understand. I should never have gone out with him. It was a mistake from the start.”

She took another deep drink, emptying her glass. Damn. She signaled the waiter for another.

“Millie, darling, you were head over heels for him from the very beginning. It was clear to all of us,” said Beth.

“It really was,” Gertie chimed in.

They weren’t wrong. She was mad for Ernie. None of her good intentions had changed that. Her heart felt like a hollowed-out shell ever since she ended things with him. But that wasn’t the point.

“Fine. I was head over heels for him. And to be honest, I still am. But I can’t afford to let my feelings for a man wreck women’s prospects to become professional pilots.”

Katherine squeezed her hand. “Sweetie, don’t blame yourself for the impossible standard they held you to. They wanted you out. They found an excuse. You didn’t wreck anyone’s prospects. They were already wrecked.”

Millie tried to absorb what she was hearing but couldn’t. If she didn’t wreck anyone’s prospects, then she broke up with Ernie over nothing, and she couldn’t possibly have done that.

The waiter arrived with another martini for her, and not a moment too soon. She drank half of it in one go, grateful for the icy burn as it went down her throat. Maybe it would help her make sense of what she was hearing.

“Men are dangerous,” she murmured. “I should never have let him near me.”

“Did he do something to upset you?” Gertie asked. “I’ll gladly sock him in the face for you if he did.”

“He said he loved me.”

And there went the other half of her martini.

Beth narrowed her eyes. “Is this about Barney?”

“No,” Millie answered a little too loudly.

But was it? Barney broke her heart, humiliated her. When Ernie said he loved her, she was terrified. What if it happened all over again?

Beth raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” Millie said at last. It must have been the gin talking. This didn’t seem like something she’d admit out loud to anyone.

“Then it’s clear what you really need our help with,” said Katherine, swirling her half-drunk Manhattan in its glass. “You need to get Ernie back.”

“What? No. I can’t⁠—”

“Yes, you can,” Katherine said. “And you should. You said yourself you still have feelings for him. We can’t let a fellow aviatrix walk out on love just because some mean old bureaucrats disapprove. Do you agree, ladies?”

They all raised their glasses and smiled. All except Millie, that was.

“Then it’s settled,” Katherine continued. “I think she needs to do something big to win him back, something to prove beyond a doubt she’s still in love with him.”

“Isn’t the man supposed to make the grand gesture?” Gertie asked.

“I’m sure he will once he has some hope,” Katherine answered, sipping her drink. “But first she has to give him a reason to be hopeful.”

“Millie, darling, you look like a startled deer,” said Beth, gently taking Millie’s empty glass away.

The martinis were making it hard to string together thoughts, but they’d done nothing to ease the roiling pain in her gut at the thought of Ernie.

If Millie accepted what her friends were saying, she’d wronged Ernie. And badly. But how could she do that? Didn’t she love Ernie?

The pain spiked.

What if Beth was right, and this was all about Barney? Millie thought she loved him, and he let her down. So publicly too.

What if Ernie did the same?

But he wouldn’t, would he?

She suspected him at first because of his behavior toward Vera, but at least he was honest with her. And he ended things before anything happened with Millie. There was no reason to think he’d been anything but true to her, and she didn’t doubt his love.

“Did I have this all wrong?” she asked in a quiet voice. “Did I hurt Ernie for no reason?”

Looking up in the eyes of her friends, she saw sympathy but also the truth.

“Oh, God. I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

She staggered to her feet, but her friends pulled her down again.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Gertie.

“I have to fix this. Right now.”

“No, darling. You’re drunk,” said Beth.

Come to think of it, she did feel a bit unsteady on her feet.

“Let us help you come up with a plan,” said Katherine with a kind smile.

“I need another martini,” Millie said, sitting down again.

“No, you don’t,” said Beth, becoming a little bit blurry at the edges as she shook her head. She signaled the waiter and asked for a glass of water for Millie.

There were not enough martinis in the world for this conversation, and Beth was cutting her off?

“I’ll deal with this myself,” Millie said, a little too defensively. “I messed things up. I’ll fix it. Now can I please have another drink?”

“No,” said Beth firmly. “But you can have our advice. Once you’re over your hangover tomorrow, you can decide whether or not to take it. Right now, you are not in a fit state.”

Millie let out an aggravated sigh. She loved her friends, but did they have to be so patronizing?

“It’s for your own good,” said Gertie, patting her hand.

Millie gave her a mutinous glare.

“So, ladies, what do we think she should do?” Beth asked, looking at everyone except Millie.

“Call him up and apologize,” said Gertie.

“Well, yes, she has to do that,” said Katherine, “but what else?”

As if calling him up on the phone was an easy thing to do after the way she’d left things.

“I think she should get him his job back,” Gertie said, then drank the dregs of her old-fashioned.

“I like that,” said Katherine.

“Me too,” said Beth.

“But how am I supposed to do that?” Millie asked. Obviously, they didn’t understand how badly she’d burned her bridges with the airmail.

“How did you get the job in the first place?” Katherine asked, turning her sweet pixie face on Millie.

“I went to the Postmaster General,” Millie answered.

Katherine nodded. “Then you’ll just have to go back.”

“He’s not going to listen to me after what just happened.” This was a ridiculous plan.

“That depends on who you bring with you. Do you think you could win over a few members of Congress?” asked Katherine. “Weren’t you going to do an air show for them or something? What if we did an air show with you? Three lady pilots together should be enough of a spectacle to draw their interest. And I know several prominent ladies from the suffrage movement—Rory Hawley and her aunt, Alva Belmont. I could invite them to join as special guests to help advocate for our cause.”

Oh, God. The last thing she wanted to do was court politicians and society ladies, but maybe Katherine had a point. Maybe together, they could save the airmail operation and get Ernie’s job back even if she wasn’t flying the mail herself.

“I agree,” said Beth. “Bring a few senators to your side. Mr. Burleson can’t ignore them.”

“And when have I ever been good at winning people over?”

“You’ll figure it out,” said Beth. “I have faith in you. And this time, you’ll have help.”

Was there anything more irritating than Beth’s smug smile when she was right? This was a ridiculous, brilliant plan, and her friends were the very best in the world. The whole idea made her want to hide in a cave and never come out, but she was going to have to go along with it, wasn’t she? She owed it to Ernie. It was the least she could do after how she’d hurt him.

“Fine, let’s do it,” Millie said at last. A knot in her stomach untied after she agreed. She didn’t want to do it, but at least it was action. It made her feel better to have something to do, even if she didn’t like it.

“Excellent, darling,” said Beth.

Katherine squeezed her hand, then clinked glasses with Gertie.

“Now, enough about men,” said Katherine. “Gertie, tell me about this new trick you’ve been doing.”

Millie settled back in her chair and listened blearily, a new sense of peace and determination growing within her.

27

Taking off his work boots and leaving them in the entryway, Ernie tiptoed upstairs in socked feet, careful not to touch anything. After a long day’s work at the construction site, he was filthy and stinky. And the last thing he wanted was to face the barrage of kindness his family had been throwing at him ever since he was fired. All he wanted was a shower and some quiet time with his sketch pad.

“Ernie, is that you?” Constance asked, poking her head out of the sitting room as he passed.

Caught.

He sighed. “Yes, it’s me.”

“You look exhausted.”

“I am. The new job is hard work. Not that I mind. I’m grateful to have a job at all.”

And it kept his mind off Millie. Mostly. It was hard to think of anything at all with all the heavy labor and banging. It had been a month since he’d last seen her, and she hadn’t reached out once. He was starting to wonder if their whole relationship was a dream, and he was only just now waking up.

“Are you still planning to go out with Jack tonight? He stopped by to ask.” Constance’s cheeks pinkened.

If something was up between her and Jack, he needed to nip that in the bud. Constance deserved someone stable and reliable—in other words, anyone but a pilot. And definitely not Jack, who had already broken her heart once without knowing it.

After a long day at work, he didn’t really want to go out, but maybe he needed to have a few words with his friend about keeping his distance. “I’m pretty beat, and, truth be told, I completely forgot we made plans. But maybe I should go.”

Constance narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, I think you should. It might cheer you up to go out. You used to do it all the time.” Her smile was a little too bright.

Oh, God. Was Constance worried about him? That was the last thing he wanted. He was trying so hard to make everyone around him worry less. “Since when are you in favor of my going out on the town?”

“Since you stopped doing anything you like and started holing up in your room for hours on end every night.”

Dammit. She was worried. “I’m fine. It’s just that construction is tiring work.”

She crossed her arms. “And hungry work, but you hardly touch your food.”

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.”

“A likely story. Well, next time, pay more attention, wouldja?” Jack narrowed his eyes at the man, who rolled up his window in a hurry. “Now, where were we?” He turned to Ernie and sauntered on as if nothing had happened.

Ernie’s heart was still racing. “You were telling me I look like shit.”

“Ah, yes.” Jack eyed him head to toe with a rueful expression. “Well, I’m just telling it like it is. Don’t shoot the messenger. Let me buy you a…umm…soda, and you can tell me all about your troubles.”

He gestured toward Frankie’s, which was only a few blocks from home. It still had a mug of beer on the sign next to the name in raised red letters. Frankie might have stopped serving booze with the start of Prohibition, but otherwise, the establishment hadn’t changed one iota. The only difference was that everyone brought their own alcohol instead of buying it there. Frankie sold them sodas at the same price they used to pay for drinks and gave them an extra, empty glass for whatever they chose to bring. Too many cops patronized Frankie’s for the place to get busted, and Jack and Ernie had been regulars ever since they were old enough to drink.

They ordered two colas at the bar and took them to a table near the window, along with two empty glasses. Jack produced a flask with a grin and poured a healthy dram of whiskey in each of the empty glasses. “Now, then. Tell me all about why you look like something the cat dragged in.”

Ernie took a long sip. He’d mostly avoided drinking since everything went to hell, but damn, it felt nice sliding down his throat. “I miss flying the mail.” It was as good a place to start as any. Certainly, it beat talking about Millie. “Hell, I miss flying at all. I’m a pilot, for God’s sake, not a carpenter.”

Jack nodded sympathetically. “The boys and I have tried everything we can think of to convince Mr. Dickson to bring you back. He hasn’t hired anyone new yet, so we’re all flying extra days trying to cover your routes. It’s a mess. We miss you something awful. If there’s a way to bring you back, we will.”

It warmed Ernie’s heart to hear that his colleagues were trying so hard. “Thanks, but I’m not holding out much hope. Mr. Dickson never liked me much in the first place.”

He took another sip. Flying the mail was the best job he’d ever had, even if he had to put up with an awful boss. “I’ve been thinking I might reach out to Hawley, see if he can hook me up with something at Curtiss Aeroplane and Motor Company. Maybe they need a test pilot. Hell, I’d even take a job on the factory floor if it meant I got to be near planes again.”

“I think that’s a fine idea! You should ring him.” Jack smiled and raised his glass, taking a sip. “I’m sure he’d help you out.”

“Yeah? You don’t think he’s forgotten us little folk now that he’s married an heiress?” Some people had all the luck. Not that he begrudged Hawley, but it sure would have been nice to have a wife he adored along with having his money troubles wiped away.

Jack chuckled. “I see Hawley all the time. Don’t worry. He hasn’t changed a bit.”

“When do you see Hawley?” Ernie had hardly seen the man at all in God knew how long.

“I go over to his place, and we play chess and watch little Tabitha during Mrs. Hawley’s weekly visits to the airfield. It wasn’t enough to learn to fly. Now, she’s learning barnstorming tricks. That Mrs. Hawley is quite a woman.”

Ernie’s heart squeezed. Aurora Hawley was far too much like Millie. It was a wonder they had never met. He was sure they would have become best friends immediately.

“Have you heard from Millie?” Jack asked lightly, though he must have known darned well that hearing her name would send Ernie in a tailspin.

“Not a word.” Every time the phone rang at home, his heart skipped a beat, hoping it was her. But it never was. “I need to move on. She’s gone for good.”

He emptied his glass, and Jack refilled it.

“That’s women for you.” Jack took a long, slow drink. “One minute you’re on top of the world and the next…nothing.”

The bitter note in his friend’s voice didn’t escape him. Myrtle’s betrayal was a tough pill to swallow. And now that he’d lost Millie, he understood all too well. “Yeah.”

“How’s your family holding up? I know you losing your job has been rough on them too.”

Right. His family. Constance—the whole reason he agreed to come out tonight in the first place. “The family is fine.” More than fine. They’d been so understanding and supportive that it made him want to climb in a hole and never come out. “But, Jack…”

“Yes?” His friend took another sip of his drink.

“Is there something going on between you and Constance?” He held Jack’s gaze and watched his friend’s eyes widen and ears turn bright red.

“Not a thing. She’s like my kid sister. Always has been.” Jack took another long sip of his drink. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” It felt good to turn the attention away from his own wreck of a life. Let Jack feel the heat for a bit.

Jack leaned forward and looked him in the eyes. “I swear to you that I have no designs on your sister. I never have and never will.”

“Good. See that it stays that way.” He sat back in his chair and finished off his drink, then took a sip of cola. God, he was tired. Now that he’d accomplished his mission, he wanted nothing more than to end the evening and head home.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re trying to change the subject. At some point, you need to talk about Millie. The only way you’ll move on is if you admit she broke your heart.”

Ernie’s temper flared at his friend’s attempt to draw him out. He knew Jack meant well, but he was really pushing it. “Fine. She broke my heart. Are you happy?”

Saying she broke his heart felt like such an understatement. Every part of him missed her. From his fingers to his toes, he ached with longing to have her back. But he had to hold it together for the sake of his family. “Listen, I’ve got to go. I have an early morning on the construction site tomorrow.”

Jack sighed and drank down the last of his whiskey. “All right. I’ll let you off the hook this time but remember that I’m right next door if you ever need to talk about it.”

“Sure.” He got up and headed out without waiting for Jack. He needed a little time in the icy air to clear his head and put his feelings back in a box where they belonged. For his family, he had to be strong. For them, he had to forget Millie Aldrich ever existed and focus on building a future out of the rubble of his current circumstances.

A few snowflakes drifted down from the sky, and one landed on his nose. For a moment, he was transported to the Brockerhoff and that wonderful, marvelous, ruinous day in the snow. For a moment, Millie was his, and his horizons were endless.

And then it was over. He was back—plain old Ernie from Brooklyn with a family to support and a job to do in the morning. Squaring his shoulders, he strode home, determined to never think of Millie again.

28

Millie looked up at the sky in Annapolis, grateful that there wasn’t a cloud to be seen. It was warmer than usual for early December, so hopefully their guests were comfortable in their seats. Rory Hawley, whom she’d only met a few weeks back, was a wonder when it came to organizing a big event. The moment Rory heard from Katherine what they were planning, she’d set to work.

From the size of the crowd, it looked like all of Congress and their families had come out to see the show, along with a sizeable contingent of the women’s rights activists who had led the suffrage movement. Millie just had to hope they had enough blankets, hot water bottles, and hot cocoa to keep them all warm so that they could be comfortable and enjoy the entertainment.

Some silly part of her hoped she’d spot Ernie in the crowd, but the odds of that were low. She’d avoided reaching out to him about it. If it went well, she could tell him about her triumph, but if it went poorly… No, she wasn’t going to think about that. The last thing she needed before a big show was to give in to self-doubt.

After all, Mr. Burleson was out there somewhere, and he was expecting perfection. Initially he’d declined the invitation, but Millie had enlisted the help of her formidable new friends, Rory Hawley and her aunt, Alva Belmont—prominent suffragettes from a powerful and influential family.

The three of them had visited his offices together to make their case. He agreed that if this worked and he got his airmail funding, he would reconsider his stance on women flying the mail. He also grudgingly agreed to offer Ernie his job back after Millie pleaded his case. But Mr. Burleson’s parting words were, “No mistakes or our deal is off.”

Millie had to deliver the best performance of her life, and everything she cared about was on the line. Thank God she had help! She could never have pulled this off alone.

Rory came striding over, decked out in a plum satin flying suit lined with fur, her homage to Harriet Quimby, the first woman to earn a pilot’s license—God rest her soul. If only Harriet could have flown with them today! But Rory was an excellent pilot and would dazzle the crowd just as thoroughly as her predecessor. “Darling, are you ready for the show? It’s simply smashing how many people came out to see us ladies take flight!”

It was. The sight of so many brought tears to Millie’s eyes, which she blinked back. The only thing that would have made this more perfect was Ernie, but she’d promised herself she wouldn’t reach out to him until she’d made things right and gotten him his job back. And this was the day she would make everything right. She would save the airmail and get Ernie’s job back, God willing. “I’m ready. Where are Katherine and Gertie?”

“Over by their airplanes doing final checks. Shall I tell Aunt Alva we’re ready to go?”

Sure enough, her friends had already donned their flight suits and were scrutinizing every inch of their aircrafts. Millie had already checked her plane several times over. Nerves didn’t usually bother her, but with the stakes so high, she had butterflies in her stomach as she looked out at the airfield. “Yes, please. Let’s show everyone what an aviatrix can do.”

Rory grinned and nodded then strode off to tell her aunt to deliver the opening address.

Millie headed for her plane, holding her head high and fending off the jittery flutter in her gut. Katherine and Gertie greeted her as she joined them.

“Millie, I’m so glad we’re doing this!” Katherine came over and wrapped her in a big hug. “Let’s show those dusty old idiots in Congress what we ladies are capable of.”

“Hear, hear,” Gertie added, joining the hug. “This is going to be one heck of a sockdolager!”

Yes. Yes, it was.

The electric crackle of the microphone over the loudspeaker made them break apart and stand at attention. Rory hurried over and joined them as they all turned to the podium where Alva Belmont took her position, somehow managing to look like a brigadier general despite her fur coat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, members of Congress, and dignitaries, we are gathered here today to see a once-in-a-lifetime performance by four daring young women who are pioneering a new era in the skies. No sooner were airplanes invented than ladies took flight. The future, my friends, belongs equally to both sexes, and aviation is no exception.”

The women in the crowd rose to their feet and applauded so loudly that Mrs. Belmont had to pause. The men were slower to clap, but when they saw the reaction of the women around them, they joined in. The women’s vote had become very powerful indeed! Millie’s heart was fit to burst at the sight. Maybe this crazy scheme was going to work.

“Yes…yes…now then…” Mrs. Belmont attempted to calm the crowd. At last, they settled down. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am delighted to introduce to you the amazing pilots who will perform daring aerial acrobatics today, starting with my niece, Mrs. Aurora Hawley!”

The audience jumped to their feet again, hooting and hollering, as Rory climbed into her cockpit and waved.

“Miss Gertrude Hamilton,” Mrs. Belmont called out, and Gertie beamed as she climbed into her cockpit and waved with both hands to the adoring crowd.

“Miss Katherine Stinson!”

The noise from the crowd got even louder as Katherine took her place.

“And Hollywood’s high-flying sweetheart, Miss Millie Aldrich!”

As Millie climbed into her plane, the roar of the crowd deafened her. She could do this. She’d done it hundreds of times before—maybe thousands. But never had so much depended on her performance—the future of the airmail, women pilots, and the love of her life.

“It is with great pleasure that I introduce to you our announcers for this performance, Evelyn Carnegie and Beth Rodgers!” Aunt Alva stepped aside, making way.

Millie couldn’t hold back her grin as she watched Beth sashay up to the podium along with a petite brunette who must have been Miss Carnegie.

“Thank you, Mrs. Belmont for the wonderful introduction,” Miss Carnegie said, kissing Mrs. Belmont on the cheek as she descended from the podium. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, are you ready for the show of a lifetime?”

“I know I sure am,” Beth quipped, and the crowd hooted their agreement. “Well, then, ladies. Let’s give the people what they want. Pilots, start your engines!”

Deep breaths. Ignore the crowd. It’s time to fly.

Millie signaled to the mechanic standing by to swing her propeller as she opened the throttle. The buzz of the engine drowned out the roar of the crowd as she taxied out onto the green runway and took off.

Airborne at last, she let all her worries fall away and reveled in soaring above the grounds as the other ladies took off one by one.

She couldn’t hear the announcers or the crowd. Up here, it was just her, her fellow pilots, and the rumble of her engine.

And the beep of the radio telegraphing instructions in Morse code. Rory had arranged for the experimental devices to be installed so that they could stay coordinated in the air. Millie could only imagine how it would improve safety for airmail pilots if the planes were equipped with radios like this. No doubt, Mr. Burleson would have balked at the expense, but she hoped they would find a way. It would save lives if they could communicate.

The four of them circled above the airfield, aligning themselves into formation for a fly-by. Leading the others, Millie swooped down, flying low over the crowd and making all the men clutch their hats. She laughed to herself as she pulled up and glided over the trees. It was fun to give those congressmen a bit of a thrill.

The knot in her stomach loosened a bit as she settled into the rhythm of their act. She soared up, up, up into a death-defying loop-the-loop, playing with gravity like it was at her personal command and not an inexorable force of nature. She pushed higher, harder into a corkscrew. The other ladies followed her lead, duplicating her tricks one after another.

So far, everything was going swimmingly. But the hardest part was yet to come. They’d invented a stunt they called “The Mail Drop,” which they had practiced over and over for hours on end in the lead-up to the show. It was a tricky maneuver, and it only worked about half the time, but she hoped against hope that they would pull it off today.

Following the commands of the radio tones from the ground, she and her friends moved from one feat of derring-do to another. With each trick, her confidence rose, and the cloud that had settled over her since she broke things off with Ernie lifted a little bit more. She could only hope the crowd was properly awed by the skill and speed of their acrobatics. Would it be enough to save the airmail, give women a chance at pilot jobs, and salvage Ernie’s job? Only time would tell.

The signal came for “The Mail Drop,” and her stomach clenched. Sitting next to her in the cockpit were five canvas sacks about the size of small handbags with “Mail” printed on them. They were filled with beans for weight. Blue scarves were tied to each of them to make them easy to see. Down on the field, there were three white circles painted on the grass. To start with, they each had to drop one bag in each of the circles.

Easy as pie. In theory. Fortunately, it wasn’t a windy day. She dropped her first bag, and it landed in the intended circle, if a little shy of center. She would have to try harder on the next run. The other ladies took their turns one at a time, and all the blue flags landed in the circle. Hot dog! One down, two to go. And then things got more difficult.

On the second round, just as she was about to drop her bag, she hit an air pocket, and her plane jolted. The bag dropped before she intended, and she watched its descent with a sinking stomach. This was the easiest part of the trick. If they messed this up, what would Mr. Burleson think?

The bag landed just inside the circle. It had been a close call, but she made it.

Letting out a sigh of relief, she determined to do better on the next one.

Think of Ernie. Think of my fellow lady pilots. I can do this for them.

It was time for round three. Biting her lip, she dropped her bag, and…another bull’s-eye! Millie smiled to herself as she watched the others drop their bags. Katherine’s landed a bit to one side. Gertie’s landed right on top of it. Rory dropped hers last, and Millie held her breath. It landed in the center, right next to hers. Thank God!

Millie laughed out loud in relief. They’d made it through part one without a hitch. Now, things were going to get interesting. It was time for the grand finale, and it had to come off without a hitch.

Angling upward, Millie slowed down until she was right above Katherine’s plane. Only about ten feet separated them. On a signal from the radio, Katherine held out a net. Millie dropped a bag as close as she could manage to the center of the net. Her heart thundered in her ears as she watched it fall. For a moment, she thought she’d missed. Then Katherine reached out and caught it, bringing it into her cockpit, the blue scarf fluttering.

If that didn’t impress the audience, she didn’t know what would. She angled her plane upward and watched as Katherine repeated the maneuver with Gertie. The bag dropped…Gertie missed it.

“Oh, for crying out loud! We were so close,” she yelled even though no one could hear her.

But Katherine still had her back-up bag. She positioned herself over Gertie’s plane once again, and Gertie put out her net. This time it landed right in the center.

“Come on, Gertie! Come on, Rory!” Millie yelled at the sky as she watched Gertie position herself over Rory’s plane. The final drop.

A flash of blue fell from Gertie’s plane, and…

Breathe, Millie. Breathe.

Rory caught it! They did it! Now all Rory had to do was land it in a target.

Millie bit her lip and clutched the stick as Rory released the fluttering blue scarf in the distance. Time seemed to slow down as Millie watched its descent. And then it landed…in the circle!

They’d done it! One minor mishap, but they’d done it! One final loop-the-loop, and then it was time to come in for a landing.

As Millie swooped down to the field, elation flooded her veins. Whether their performance was enough to win over Congress and Mr. Burleson, she’d given it everything she had and made some amazing new friends along the way. If only Ernie had been here, everything would have been perfect, but hopefully she would see him soon enough.

She touched down and rolled to a halt, waiting until her propeller stopped spinning to descend from the plane.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the show of a lifetime put on by these four amazing daredevils you see before you.” Beth’s voice reverberated on the loudspeaker as Millie made her way to the podium.

Her legs were made of jelly as Beth and Evelyn stepped back to make room for her. “Thank you all for coming today. I hope our performance convinced you of the possibilities of flight. The airmail operation could do so much more with your support, especially if you let more lady pilots join their ranks. I think we’ve proven today that we can fly with the best of them.”

The audience exploded in applause, rising to their feet and crowding around her as she walked out into the stands toward Burleson, whom she had spotted in the third row. It took her several minutes to make her way through the well-wishers and reach him. His gaze was just as stony and unforgiving as ever.

“Miss Aldrich, so good to see you again.” He didn’t look pleased in the least.

“Mr. Burleson, thank you so much for coming. I hope we’ve done enough to convince you to let women become airmail pilots…and to give Ernie Pritchard his job back.” This was the moment when she’d either triumph or despair. There was nothing more she could do. Her fate hung in the balance.

Mrs. Belmont and several senators looked on, observing their interaction with keen interest. A man in a gray pinstripe suit with a distinguished gray beard leaned in and said, “Albert, Mrs. Belmont here is a great supporter of mine, and she says you should listen to Miss Aldrich. I think today has proven that women can fly the mail. And with the women’s vote behind us, I think we can line up the necessary appropriations to continue and expand the airmail operation.”

Triumph! Provided Mr. Burleson agreed.

Mr. Burleson looked at her long and hard as she held her breath. “Of course, Senator,” he said at last, and her heart soared. “Young lady, come by my office on Monday morning at eight o’clock sharp to discuss the details. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t, Mr. Burleson. You won’t regret this.” She’d done it. They’d done it. With the help of her amazing friends, old and new, they’d busted through the barrier that held them back.

“I regret it already,” he grumbled and turned to leave.

Of course he regretted it. Every step forward for women would be hard won, and this was no exception. But it was a battle worth fighting, and they’d won the day despite the odds.

And then there was Ernie. She’d done this for women, but she’d also done it for him. Would it be enough for him to forgive her after the way she’d treated him? One way or another, she would find out on Monday.

29

Ernie walked through the front door at the end of a long Monday, dirty and exhausted once again, and Constance practically pounced on him. “Mr. Burleson called. He says he wants to speak to you.”

That got his attention. Why would the postmaster general call? He’d never spoken to the man before.

“He asked to speak with you at your earliest convenience,” Constance said, grinning.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Constance. It’s probably nothing important. I’ll give him a call first thing tomorrow.” It was too late now. It was practically dinner time.

“But maybe he’ll give you your job back.” She looked far too eager and hopeful for his liking.

“I burned that bridge when I got caught with Millie. There’s no way he’s letting me back now.”

Constance’s face fell, but she nodded. “I should let you go upstairs to shower. See you at dinner?”

He didn’t particularly want to eat, but he knew his family would never let him get away with refusing.

“Of course. See you in a bit.”

Making his way up to the bathroom, he pondered all the possible reasons his former boss might call. Was it at all possible there was good news? He hardly dared hope. It was probably nothing—some minor bureaucratic detail that had to be wound up regarding his departure.

Shedding his clothes, he turned on the tap and stepped into the hot shower. Water dripped down his aching muscles, leaching away the soreness. Thoughts of Millie began to intrude. Imagined hands massaged his back and shoulders. Then they wandered to his chest, caressing as ghostly lips kissed his neck. One hand traveled down and⁠—

No.

He adjusted the temperature of the water to cold and quickly finished his ablutions.

Wrapping himself in a towel, he rushed to his bedroom to change into clean clothes for dinner.

When he came down for dinner, Prudence and Verity were whispering excitedly, clearly ready to burst with a secret.

Ernie loved them, but he really had no patience for the nonsense of teenage girls right now. All he wanted was to eat his meal in peace and hide up in his room.

Mom brought in a meat loaf and mashed potatoes, followed by green beans and dinner rolls.

As she settled into her seat, she looked over at the girls and tsked. “Well, what is it? I know you’re not going to give us any peace until you’ve told us your news.”

Prudence looked at Verity who smiled and nodded. Brimming with pride, Prudence laid a small pile of dollar bills on the table.

“I sold my telescope to Benjie Stanton, and he gave me two whole dollars for it!”

“And I sold my mystery books to the used bookseller on Court Street. He gave me three dollars for twelve of them.”

Pushing the money toward Pop, Prudence said, “We wanted to help with the tuition for Constance so she can finish secretarial school.” The twins both wore wide grins.

Ernie felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

He’d bought Prudence that telescope and paid for Verity’s books. And now they were selling them because of him, because he’d failed them.

“Well, that’s mighty thoughtful of you, girls,” said Pop, accepting the money. “I’m proud of you for wanting to contribute. I’m sure Constance appreciates it very much, don’t you Constance?”

With a warm smile, Constance said, “I don’t know how to thank you. I can’t tell you how much it means to me. I promise we’ll buy them back as soon as I’m working.”

Guilt churned in Ernie’s gut. This was more than he could take.

“Mom, Pop, I’m not feeling well. May I be excused?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before running upstairs.

Picking up his sketch pad, he threw himself on the bed. What could he draw? Not his family. That hurt too much. Not his former colleagues. That hurt too much too. Certainly not Millie. His lamp. Yes. An inanimate object would do just fine.

With infinite care, he drew each accordion fold of his lampshade and traced the subtle bulge and taper of the blue ceramic base. He spent an hour perfecting the shading until there was a knock on his door.

“Ernie, it’s me,” said Pop. “Can I come in?”

Closing his eyes, Ernie took a deep breath. “Come in.”

“What’s that you’re drawing there?”

Turning the sketchbook, Ernie showed him.

Pop smiled and shook his head. “You know, I didn’t think it was possible to make a lamp look sad, but somehow you’ve managed it.”

The lamp sat alone on a field of black, only the faintest light escaping, creating a lighter gray circle. Pop was right. He’d drawn a sad lamp.

“You’re taking this hard,” Pop said, sitting on the bed beside him. “And I can’t blame you. There are few things as demoralizing as having your livelihood taken away from you.” He held up his mangled hand. “I remember well how I felt after the accident when I couldn’t get factory work or any other job for that matter. Now you know how I felt watching you pick up my burden and take on caring for the family.”

Ernie closed his eyes, embarrassed at his weakness in front of Pop who had been through so much worse. At least Ernie was still whole and healthy. He could figure out another career with time.

“It does get better with time,” Pop continued. “You just have to surrender yourself to the love around you. Once you do that, everything seems better. Sometimes I think losing the use of my hand was the best thing that ever happened to me. It showed me as nothing else could how much my family loved me. It showed me God’s tender mercy. I couldn’t go forward on my own strength. I needed my family and my faith to carry me through. And they did. And I’ll never stop being grateful.”

Pop patted his hand. “Think about it, son. Try to let the love in instead of running away. It will make a world of difference. I promise.”

Let the love in. It was easier said than done. His whole body was tense from the effort to keep his emotions in check. If he let the love in, he would fall apart completely.

Giving Ernie’s hand one last squeeze, Pop stood up and left.

With his door closed, Ernie set aside his sketch pad and undressed for bed. He climbed under the covers and pulled them over his head.

Let the love in.

Gritting his teeth, he tried. He pictured his sisters’ faces and tried to be grateful instead of guilty. It felt like opening an infected wound. Tears came flowing out, and the pain was unbearable. But he kept trying.

Thank you, Prudence and Verity. What you’ve done means so much to me.

It hurt. Oh, how it hurt.

He should have been there for them. They should never have felt they had to sell their most treasured belongings.

Let the love in.

At last, exhaustion took him. He felt hollowed out, empty. And then a strange peace settled in. Maybe Pop was right after all.

In the morning, he felt steadier than he’d felt since that call from Millie. As he came into the kitchen for breakfast, his sisters eyed him cautiously as if he were a bomb that might go off.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said, looking each of them in the eye. It wasn’t easy, but he made himself do it anyway. “Thank you for everything you’re doing for the family. We’ll get through this together.”

Prudence jumped up and wrapped him in a tight hug. Verity joined her, and then Constance.

“You know we love you, right?” said Constance, squeezing him tighter.

“Yes, I know. I love you too, more than I can say,” he said, hugging them back.

They let him up at last, and Mom served him a heaping plate of eggs and sausage with biscuits.

“Thanks, Mom.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “You didn’t eat last night. I know you need fuel for your work. You just eat up.”

Let the love in.

Taking a deep breath, he said a brief prayer over his meal and dove in.

“You know, you really should call Mr. Burleson,” said Constance as he was finishing up. “He sounded like he might have good news.”

He didn’t dare hope for any such thing, but he knew he had to get this over with. Handing his dishes over to Mom, he headed for the phone and tried to ignore the four sets of eyes following him.

Mr. Burleson couldn’t have good news, could he? What could possibly have changed?

Picking up the phone, he gave the operator the number and waited while the call connected. Mr. Burleson should be in by now. It was 8:30.

One ring. Two…

“Mr. Burleson’s secretary speaking.”

“Hello, this is Ernie Pritchard. He asked me to call.”

“Just one moment while I put you through.”

There were several clicks and a crackle. Then the man who held Ernie’s fate in his hands picked up. “Burleson speaking.”

Ernie cleared his throat. “Mr. Burleson, it’s Ernie Pritchard. My sister said you’d called.”

“Er, yes. Well, you see, I…” Mr. Burleson cleared his throat. “I, um, may have been hasty. We don’t have enough pilots for the Boston route, and we just received new funding to expand, thanks to Miss Aldrich’s air show. We need all the experienced pilots we can get.”

Air show? What air show? And what did he mean saying he may have been hasty?

“You’re giving me my job back, Mr. Burleson?” His voice had a strange breathy quality to it. This was too much to take in. Was it possible?

“Yes,” said Mr. Burleson curtly.

Hot dog! He was back in the airmail! Except… “What about Millie?”

He said it without thinking. It was probably a mistake to let the words out of his mouth. But if Millie got him his job back, returning the favor was the least he could do.

“If you’re asking if she is getting her job back, the answer is no. She didn’t even ask for it, thank God. She may have saved our funding for the airmail operation with her fancy flying, but there are limits to my magnanimity.”

Millie went to Mr. Burleson for him but not for herself? His heart skipped a beat.

“I’m not coming back unless Millie can come back too.” If she was going to go to battle for him, he had to return the favor. He held his breath as he awaited Mr. Burleson’s response.

“I’m afraid that’s out of the question.”

Ernie deflated. Of course, Mr. Burleson wouldn’t agree. He’d probably never wanted her to join in the first place.

“Pritchard, think of your family,” said Mr. Burleson. “Are you truly going to turn this down over a woman?”

Was he?

He clenched his fist around the telephone cord.

Just accept the job. Think of your sisters.

Instead, he said, “I should go to the press, you know.”

Ernest, stop. What are you doing?

“You never gave her a fair chance,” Ernie continued, “and the world should know it. She’s the best pilot I’ve ever seen. You should have counted yourself lucky to have her, and instead you did everything possible to push her out. Would you like women’s liberation protesters outside Heller Airport with lots of photographers taking pictures? Because that can be arranged.”

Now he’d done it. There was no going back after making a threat like that. Either Mr. Burleson would cave, or Ernie’s days with the airmail were over forever.

There was a long silence, followed by a weighty sigh.

“Fine,” Mr. Burleson said at last.

Ernie’s heart soared.

“But the only way we could even consider this is if you marry her. After that tabloid article, it would be indecent to bring her back unwed. We’d be inviting more scandal.”

And his heart sank again. He wanted to propose, but not at Mr. Burleson’s behest.

“No. She comes back regardless, or no deal.”

This was probably the stupidest thing Ernie had ever done, but he couldn’t stop himself. He loved Millie too much to propose because someone else told him to.

The silence on the other end of the phone extended until Ernie could hardly stand it.

“You win,” Mr. Burleson said at last. “Protesters at the airport would be worse than a scandal sheet article. I can’t let you stir up trouble. Just try to stay out of the papers or you’ll make a laughingstock of us all.”

“Thank you, Mr. Burleson! You won’t regret it.”

He won, he won, he won! Now he had to call Millie to give her the good news. Except she’d never given him her number. Damn.

“I regret it already, Pritchard. But you and Miss Aldrich have backed me into a corner. Mr. Dickson is expecting you at 8 a.m. on Tuesday, and you had better not be late.”

Mr. Burleson hung up.

Ernie put down the receiver and did a little dance, waving his arms around and jumping up and down.

“Good news, son?”

Pop walked in, and Ernie immediately stopped his antics.

“I’ve got my job back.”

He was grinning ear to ear.

His father opened his arms and folded him in a hug.

“Thank you, Jesus.”

“And thank you, Millie,” Ernie said. “She’s the one that got my job back. And I think I might have convinced Mr. Burleson to give her job back too.”

“That’s wonderful news, son.”

“I was just about to come tell⁠—”

The phone rang.

Ernie rushed to pick it up.

“Hello, Ernie? It’s me. Millie.”

His heart was fit to burst at the sound of her voice. If only he could kiss her, hold her, celebrate with her! But first, he had to convince her to take him back.

30

“Millie?”

The sound of Ernie’s voice did things to her insides. Suddenly, everything she’d planned to say before dialing slipped out of her head.

“I…um…wanted to talk to you.” What was she going to say? Where were all the words?

“It’s so good to hear your voice. I’ve missed you so much.”

Oh. He missed her.

And now she felt so soft and warm and melty all over. Words swam around in her head just out of reach. “I missed you too. I was hoping… I was hoping…”

“Yes?”

Why was this so difficult? She wanted to see him. Was that so hard to say? “I…”

“Yes?”

“Iwanttoseeyou.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

She sighed. “I want to see you.”

There. She said it.

“You do?” He sounded so hopeful. Even after what she’d done to him.

“Yes, I do. Very much.”

“I want to see you too, Millie.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight. Meet me on the northwest corner of Sixtieth and Fifth Avenue at six o’clock. We’re going ice skating in Central Park.”

Millie giggled. Since when did she giggle?

“I’ll be there.” She twirled the phone cord around her finger, peeking out the window at the fresh snow on the ground. A Salvation Army Santa stood ringing his bell across the street next to a roasted chestnut vendor.

’Tis the season to be merry.

“Have you heard from Mr. Burleson yet?” she asked.

“I did. He gave me my job back. I hear I have you to thank.”

“It wasn’t right for you to lose your job over something so silly.”

She’d put on the show of a lifetime. Thank God it had worked!

“You either. Has Mr. Burleson called you yet?”

“No, why?”

“I won’t spoil the surprise.”

“Ernie!”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

What was he up to? Why would Mr. Burleson call her? Their deal was over. He’d given Ernie his job back and agreed to let women apply for airmail pilot jobs—not her, of course, but other women.

“Listen, Millie, I have to go. I’m expected at work, and I need to tell my boss I’m quitting and going back to the airmail. But I’ll see you this evening, all right?”

She bit her lip as a thrill ran through her at the thought.

“Yes, I’ll see you then.”

“I love you.”

Where did all the air in the room go?

“I love you too,” she whispered.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“Tonight.”

The phone clicked.

For several minutes, all she could do was sit there with a ridiculous grin on her face. He really did have a special talent for turning her insides to goo.

She had a little over nine hours to kill before she saw him—a veritable eternity. Maybe Beth would have some idea how to distract her.

Her friend was sleeping in after a late night out on the town. It might be a while before she woke up.

What to wear? She opened her tall, burled walnut wardrobe with the soaring arch at the top. A rainbow of options appeared. And yet somehow, not one of them seemed quite right.

She had party dresses galore, but that wouldn’t work for ice skating. Her practical winter wear was in dull hues—brown, navy, dark green. Actually, the dark green wool with the pleated skirt could work quite nicely. Perhaps with her white cashmere sweater and a thin belt around the hips. Her white wool coat with the white fur collar would go quite well over that with a dark green cloche hat to match her dress.

There. She’d decided what to wear. Only eight hours and forty-five minutes left to go.

With a sigh, she headed to the kitchen, making breakfast as loudly as possible, hoping to rouse Beth.

When Millie brought her breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast out to the little café table in the breakfast nook, Beth wandered out of her bedroom in a blue silk wrap, a white satin sleeping mask pushed up over her mussed hair.

“Good Lord, Millie. What time is it?”

“A little after nine.”

“You’re a beast for waking me up, you know that? Do you have any idea how late I got home last night?”

Millie got up and brought Beth a cup of coffee, placing it in her hands. “I know, but I need your help.”

Beth narrowed her eyes at Millie.

“I have a date tonight with Ernie.”

At that, Beth’s eyes went wide. “You do? Oh, that’s wonderful, darling. I’m so happy for you!” She took a deep drink of coffee. “But you’re still a beast for waking me up.”

“My sincerest apologies. I made you coffee and eggs.”

It was the least Millie could do, given the hour. She hurried into the kitchen and brought out a plate and a steaming cup for Beth, plopping them down on the table.

Beth winced at the clatter, then gave her a dirty look.

“Sorry,” Millie said, doing her best to rein in her enthusiasm.

The phone rang, and Beth clapped her hands over her ears.

Millie went running.

Grabbing the receiver, she dropped into the wingback chair beside the phone. “Millie speaking.”

The person on the other end cleared his throat and said, “Er…”

Sadly, this couldn’t be Ernie.

“Miss Aldrich? It’s Mr. Burleson.”

Mr. Burleson? Ernie said he would call, but what could he possibly have to say? She was fairly certain she’d used up the favors he owed her from the air show.

“Mr. Burleson. What can I do for you?” She wanted to get this conversation over with so that she could go back to planning for her date. Talking to Mr. Burleson was about as much fun as a root canal.

He cleared his throat again. “Well, you see, it seems that… Ahem.” There was a long pause.

“Yes?”

“It seems that I’ll be giving you another chance to fly the mail.”

Millie dropper the receiver into her lap, her hand going nerveless with shock. Picking it up again hurriedly, she said, “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that? I must have misheard.”

“I said I’ll be giving you another chance to fly the mail.”

She took a deep breath in and out. “I thought that was what you said, but how can that be?”

“Ernie won’t come back without you. He made a…very convincing case. You’ll report to Heller Airport at 8 a.m. on Tuesday. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” She squeezed her fists triumphantly. “I’ll be there.”

“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.”

“Ooh, an engagement, miss?” asked her attendant. “I’ll make sure you’re simply glowing.”

Marriage? Who said anything about marriage? It was simply a date. Beth, as usual, was blowing things out of proportion.

“And I bet nothing of the sort will happen.”

“How much?” As usual, Beth was ready to place a wager. “You know I never lose.”

“You will this time. I bet you ten dollars.”

“You’re on. And no hiding the ring from me when you get home.”

Millie shook her head. “When have I ever cheated?”

“Miss, please don’t move,” the attendant said, gently repositioning her face.

“I’m just making sure,” said Beth, “because I’m going to win.”

Marry Ernie. What a thought.

Did she want to?

Even though it was unlikely he would ask tonight, Millie agreed he was probably going to ask eventually. What would she say?

Life with Ernie would be very different than her life with Beth. Would she move into their family home in Brooklyn? She rather liked the idea of that.

It would be nice to be in a busy house full of people. In her early years, the house was always full of her parents’ friends from the circus and their families. She liked the cacophony and camaraderie that came with having lots of company.

And Ernie… Would he be a good husband? Certainly, he would be an attentive lover. He had just demonstrated his loyalty to her beyond a shadow of a doubt by insisting she get her job back. And he loved her. She didn’t doubt it.

Still, some sliver of uncertainty plagued her. She’d trusted Barney. Could she truly open herself up and allow herself to be that vulnerable again?

“Finished,” her attendant announced.

“I’m finished too,” said the woman working on Beth.

Millie sat up and examined herself in the mirror. She looked radiant, even without makeup.

“You really are miracle workers,” said Beth, all vestiges of the night before banished from her face.

“Are you ready for shopping, dear?” Beth asked, turning to Millie.

For the rest of the afternoon, Beth dragged her to boutique after boutique along Fifth Avenue, looking for the perfect ensemble. Each storefront sported display windows with the latest fashions, some of them scandalously short, some of them simply unwearable, some of them too sumptuous to be believed—all displayed with theatrical elegance. It was a feast for the eyes, and Beth ended up with more than one outfit. But none of it felt quite right for such a mundane activity as ice skating in the park.

At last, they went to Lord & Taylor, entering the massive stone temple to fashion through the large arched doorway. Wafting past mannequin after mannequin in the latest fashions, they finally found an outfit they could agree on. It was a light blue dress that brought out her eyes with a mock turtleneck and a row of buttons that started at her left shoulder and went down to mid chest. The buttery fabric folded into wide pleats below the fashionably low waist. She also bought a matching baby blue coat with cream-colored fur at the collar and the ends of the sleeves with a straight cut and a belt at the hips. Beth selected a matching hat, gloves, and stockings to complete the ensemble. Finally, Millie bought a pair of two-tone black and cream boots with pointed toes, kitten heels, and buttons up the side.

Loaded up with too many parcels to carry, they flagged down a cab and headed back to the apartment just in time for Beth to do her hair and makeup before heading to the park to meet Ernie.

As her cab approached the corner of Fifth Avenue and Sixtieth Street, Millie’s heart threatened to pound out of her chest.

Peering through the crowds, she spotted him at last.

People swirled around him like eddies of snow, and he stood there, devastatingly handsome, watching every car that came by.

Millie paid the cabbie and rushed across the street.

Their eyes met.

Time slowed down.

The people and the traffic and the cheerful holiday bustle all disappeared, and there was no one in the world but the two of them.

She paused for a moment to take him in, those loving caramel-colored eyes, his ridiculous too-long blond hair peeking out from under a dark gray fedora, the glorious shape of him—his power and grace evident even beneath a long gray winter coat. God, she’d missed him.

Then, some invisible force propelled her forward. She ran into his arms, and he kissed her. Never mind that they were in full view of crowds of people. Who cared if they were seen? In this moment, all that mattered were his lips crashing into her own with desperate intent. This kiss reached into her very soul and set a fire she could not contain. She melted in his arms, not caring if the world ended around them as long as they could be together.

31

Was there anything in the world as intoxicating as the taste of Millie’s lips?

Ernie could hardly believe it was real, but here she was, kissing him with all the fury and fire she possessed. It was a sweet smolder like fine whiskey, smooth and potent, burning away his inhibitions. They were in public, some distant corner of his mind reminded him. They could be seen or photographed. And yet he couldn’t stop. He’d never been able to stop with her.

“Hey, get a room,” a surly voice interrupted.

They pulled apart, laughing and blushing. A burly, balding man in a trench coat gave them a disapproving side-eye before moving on.

Ernie offered his arm. “Let’s walk, shall we?”

She took his arm, and they hurried together into the quieter paths of the park.

“I missed you terribly,” Ernie said as strolled along a shadowy lane.

Flecks of snow began to fall, swirling in the beams of light from the streetlamps that lit their way.

“I missed you too,” Millie said, squeezing his arm.

Then why did you leave me? he couldn’t help thinking.

“I owe you an apology,” she said as if she could read his mind. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I can see that now. I only made a bad situation worse.”

He’d been aching to hear those words, but now that she’d said them, none of it mattered. His heart forgave in an instant, despite the pain she’d caused him.

“All that matters now is that we’re together, no matter what Mr. Burleson does to us next.”

She laughed.

“I still can’t believe you made Mr. Burleson give me back my job,” she said, looking up at him adoringly.

“And I can’t believe you put on a whole air show to make him give me back mine.”

She looked down, and her cheeks reddened. “It was the least I could do after being so cruel to you.”

He stopped and turned towards her.

“Millie,” he said, tilting up her chin with his finger. “You were afraid. That’s completely understandable. I don’t blame you for what you did.”

As he said the words, he realized they were true. He was heartbroken, but he couldn’t bring himself to hold it against her, especially not now.

“Really, I don’t.” He caressed her cheek. “All that matters is that we’re together again.”

He wanted to kiss her, but he was afraid if he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. And tonight, he had special plans. It was a night for romance, not seduction.

Releasing her chin, he placed her hand on his arm again, and they continued their walk. The lights of the ice rink appeared in the distance.

They walked in contented silence as the noise and music of the rink grew louder. A small brass band was playing Christmas carols, and half the rink was singing along.

Ernie loved the way she hung on his arm as they waited in line to rent skates. Her mere presence seeped into him and warmed his heart. There was some invisible connection between them, cocooning them. He could feel every movement she made as if she was an extension of him.

They reached the front of the line and rented their skates—plain black and much abused. They smelled of odor-eating powder. Millie looked delighted.

Ernie led her over to a bench and knelt before her.

Her eyes widened.

“Let me,” he said, carefully unbuttoning her pristine boots and sliding them off her silk-stockinged foot. Tenderly, he placed her foot into an old beat-up skate and laced her up, taking time to caress her ankle and calf as he went.

She giggled as he repeated the treatment on her other foot. “So gallant, good Sir Pritchard. If you keep this up, I might grant you a kiss.”

I’m hoping for a better prize by far than a kiss.

He finished tying her laces and hurried to put on his own skates. They wobbled to the rink, laughing the whole way.

“You know how to skate, right?” he asked.

“Barely, but I think I can at least stay upright.”

“My God, have I finally found something you aren’t good at?”

She laughed. “There are lots of things I’m not good at.”

They stepped onto the ice and joined the crowd skating in circles. He skated backwards so that he could hold her hands as she wobbled along.

“Like what?”

“You already know I can’t decorate a cake to save my life.”

He steered them around a family of small children.

“I’ll grant you that. What else?”

“I’m not very good at keeping my temper.”

She wobbled, and he caught her before she fell.

“I’ve learned that the hard way,” he said with a laugh. “Your temper is a part of who you are, and I love every part of you.”

“Why are we going into the middle? Shouldn’t we stay by the sides where I can grab the wall if I need it?”

“You’ll see.”

He pulled her away from the crowd and into the center of the ice, where several talented ice dancers graciously gave way, and he brought them to a halt, bending down on one knee.

The ice was cold and hard beneath him, and his knee was quickly getting soaked. But he didn’t care. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his grandmother’s engagement ring.

Looking up into Millie’s eyes, he asked, “Millie Aldrich, will you marry me?”

Most of the movement around the rink paused as everyone stopped to watch. Even the band paused their music.

For a long moment, she didn’t answer. Had he miscalculated? Was it too soon?

Panic gripped him as he knelt before her on the increasingly uncomfortable ice, ring held aloft.

“Please, Millie,” he murmured, trying to read the complex emotions playing over her face.

“Yes,” she whispered at last, eyes wide. “Yes,” she said more loudly, a smile breaking across her face.

The crowd burst into applause as he took off her glove and slid on the ring before sliding the glove back over it.

Standing up carefully, he pulled her into a kiss, and the band struck up with the wedding march as hoots and hollers surrounded them.

He had a giant wet patch on his knee, and he was certain he’d bruised it. But none of that mattered.

She said yes!

The famous Millie Aldrich was going to marry plain old Ernie Pritchard from Brooklyn.

He placed her hand on his arm, and together they skated around the rink, reveling in the congratulations from the crowd.

“Well, future Mrs. Pritchard, how do you feel?”

“Madly in love,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him. “And slightly terrified.”

Seeing the slight furrow in her brow, he led her over to the exit from the rink. “I’d like to buy you a hot chocolate, my love, and perhaps you can tell me what has you scared.”

If she had any lingering fears about him, he wanted to put them to rest as soon as possible.

Buying two hot chocolates from a vendor in a tiny kiosk, he led her to a vacant picnic table and sat down beside her.

“Now, what is it that has you worried?”

She took a sip of her hot chocolate and looked around at everything but him.

“I’ve been here before, you know. I said yes only to have my heart broken.”

Barney. Ernie wished he could punch the man in the face for what he’d done to her.

“Listen to me,” he said, taking her hand and catching her eye. “I would never, ever betray you. I am utterly yours for life.”

Something melted in her gaze. “I know. And that’s why I said yes. You aren’t Barney. You’re honest, and I trust you. Even when I disapproved of what you were doing, you were never dishonest with me. You never hid things from me. I know you won’t lie to me.”

“I swear, Millie, you can trust me with your heart. I won’t let you down.” He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, praying she would believe him.

“I know, and I do.” She leaned forward and touched her forehead to his. “I love you enough to let you in despite my hesitation. You have my heart for better or worse.”

Ernie smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. “In sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, until death us to part?”

“Yes, all of that. I promise.”

He pressed a light kiss on her lips, his heart pounding so loudly he could hardly hear himself think.

“And so do I.”

She took hold of his collar and pulled him into a deep, soul-searching kiss. Opening himself, he let all the love he felt for her spill out and let her fierce love flow into him. It was more than a kiss, it was a joining, a melding together. When she finally released him, he felt transformed into something new, something better.

“We need to find a hotel room,” she said, panting as she released him.

He was about to argue when he noticed exactly how tight his pants had gotten.

“I swear I didn’t set out to get you into bed tonight. I wanted to⁠—”

“Ernest Pritchard, we are getting a room, or so help me God, I’ll⁠—”

“You’ll what?” He grinned wickedly.

She rolled her eyes. “Cad.”

“You obviously like cads.”

He rose to his feet, grateful that his coat hid the evidence of his intense arousal.

“We’ve got to get out of these skates,” said Millie, wobbling dangerously as she stood up.

They hobbled back over to their shoes and rushed through changing into them.

As they returned their skates, the man at the rental stand said, “Congratulations!”

The snow was picking up. People were starting to leave as the light sprinkle turned to heavy flurries.

“We need to get out of this storm,” Ernie said, putting a protective arm around Millie.

“The Plaza Hotel is right around the corner. Let’s go there.”

He was thinking the same thing, even though it was likely to burn a hole in his pocket he wouldn’t recover from anytime soon.

They ran through the storm into the palatial lobby, filled with potted palm trees and soaring arches.

“We need a room, please,” Ernie said, praying one was available.

“Do you have a reservation?” asked the man at the front desk in his spotless suit.

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Hmm. Let me see.” The man looked through an enormous ledger book, drawing his finger down a regimented line of room records. “It seems you’re in luck. We were booked solid this evening, but we had a cancellation in room 325. It has two twin beds. Will that do for you and your wife?”

Ernie grinned at the word. It wasn’t true yet, but it would be soon enough.

Beside him, Millie started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Ernie asked.

“Well, it’s the Brockerhoff all over again. A snowstorm, one room, two twin beds… It’s fitting somehow.”

“We’ll take it,” Ernie said. She was right. It wasn’t just fitting. It was perfect.

“Very good, sir. That will be twenty dollars.”

Ernie opened his pocketbook and paid up. He’d expected an expensive night tonight, so he was prepared.

“And if you could just sign your names in the guest register,” the man said, gesturing to a leather-bound volume with creamy, close-ruled pages and handing Ernie a fountain pen.

Ernie signed Mr. and Mrs. Ernest Pritchard.

“Thank you, sir. Here is your room key. The elevators are right over there.”

Heading over to the elevators, he told the operator, “Third floor, please.”

“Yes, sir. Going up.”

If they didn’t have an audience, Ernie would have kissed Millie into oblivion right then, but he had to wait.

As soon as they stepped out and the elevator door closed behind them, they broke into a run, laughing as they went.

Ernie fumbled with the key in his excitement to get the door open.

“Here. Let me,” Millie said, sliding the ornate key with a tassel into the keyhole and turning it.

The door opened, and Ernie swept her off her feet, carrying her over the threshold and kicking the door closed behind him.

Alone at last.

32

Mrs. Millie Pritchard.

She liked the sound of that.

Ernie put her down slowly, gently and pulled her flush against him as he leaned back on the door and turned the lock.

Good Lord, it was hard to think with him so close. He flooded her senses—the feel of his muscles, his scent, the taste of his skin. And she was tasting—his lips, his neck, his earlobe—any exposed skin she could find.

She took off his fedora and flung it behind her without looking. He did the same with her cloche hat.

Grabbing his lapels, she claimed his lips and delved with her tongue, her passion eliciting a low rumble as he surrendered to it. Something wild and hungry within her drove her on to greater fury. She bit his lower lip, and he responded by devouring her. One hand held her head as he kissed and nipped at her exposed neck. The other squeezed her buttock, pressing their hips together through all the infuriating layers of cloth.

“Too much clothing,” she murmured.

“Agreed,” he mumbled into her neck before pulling back.

She tore at the buttons of his coat until they came undone, sliding the coat down around his shoulders. There was a suit jacket underneath. That had to go too.

Down to his sweater-vest, he took over, frantically unbuttoning her new blue coat. Why did she get one with so many buttons?

Casting it aside onto a luggage stand, he took in her dress.

“More buttons?” he asked in mock outrage as he went to work unbuttoning her front.

At last, he slid the dress down over her shoulders, and she stepped out of it. She was down to her cream satin and lace step-in chemise, her satin garter belt, her stockings and boots.

He put his hands on her shoulders, maneuvering her back so that he could look at her.

“Millie Aldrich, you certainly do not disappoint. Good God.”

She looked him up and down, her gaze lingering on the impressive bulge in his pants.

Reaching out, she took his hand and led him to the twin bed on the left—the same side he’d taken at the Brockerhoff.

“Help me with my boots?” she said, taking a seat and running a leg up his calf.

“Uh-huh,” he said, looking dazed as he knelt before her.

Oh, good. He was properly addled.

As he unbuttoned her boot, he stared up at her as if she were some heavenly apparition. After sliding the boot off, he grazed his fingers up her calf and thigh until he reached the bare skin just above her stocking. There, he stopped and tantalized her, so close to the center of her pulsing desire it was agony. Then he took his fingers away, the cad.

He went to work on her other boot, once again tracing up her leg and once again stopping short of what she wanted. Unfastening one garter and then another, he rolled her stockings down her silky-smooth legs. She would have to remember to thank Beth for insisting on the waxing and milk bath at the Salon d’Oro. Her pristine legs ended in perfectly pedicured toes.

Nestled between her legs, he looked up at her like a starving man.

Touch me, Ernie. Taste me. I’m yours.

Instead, he stood up, pulling her to stand with him.

“Mrs. Pritchard?” he said, tracing a finger down from her collarbone to her right nipple, which he lightly pinched.

“I’m not Mrs. Pritchard yet,” she said, leaning into his touch.

“Maybe not officially, but you’re mine and I’m yours in every way that matters.”

He continued to fondle her in the most devastatingly delicious way.

“And I am a very, very lucky man.”

“Oh? How lucky are you?” she asked, grazing her fingernails over the bulge in his pants and making him shiver.

“I’m this lucky,” he said, unhooking her garter belt and letting it drop to the floor. “And this lucky.” He slid one silken strap off her shoulder, baring her breast. “And this lucky.” His fingers slid down the other shoulder and her chemise puddled on the floor, leaving her entirely naked.

Breathing heavily, he took her breasts in hand, caressing and rolling the nipples between his fingers.

“Oh, so you’re just a lustful cad, aching to have his way with me?”

He smiled. “I’m your lustful cad, and I love everything about you.”

“Like what?”

She pulled his sweater-vest over his head and slid his tie from around his neck, running her hands up and down his chest.

“I love…your chocolate cakes.”

“Ha!”

Now he was the one with too many buttons. She couldn’t slip them through their holes fast enough.

“I love your ambition.”

“I’m still going to break your record to Chicago.”

“I know, and I can’t wait to see you do it.”

Sliding the shirt off his shoulders, she was disappointed to find a union suit beneath. More buttons, damn it.

“I love your feistiness.”

“Good, because I’m not going to go easy on you just because you’re my husband.”

“I know that.” He tweaked her nipples, and she gasped.

As she reached for his belt, he closed his eyes and his mouth dropped open.

“Oh, God, Millie.”

Slipping off his pants and union suit, she had him naked at last. And he was glorious with that chiseled chest, those caramel eyes, and that too-long blond hair that kept falling in his face. What a beautiful man he was! She raked her nails softly down his front, grazing over his nipples.

He bit his lip.

“I love…” He tapered off into a moan. “I love what your fingers are doing right now.”

She smiled and grazed one finger up his arousal.

“I love that even more.”

“I’m sure you do,” she chuckled.

Pulling her hand away, he said seriously, “I love every part of you, Millie Aldrich soon-to-be-Pritchard.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” she said with a wicked smile. “Show me.”

With a devilish grin, he lowered her to the bed. “I will.”

Then he climbed on top of her, hovering on all fours. Still too far. She arched toward him, desperate for contact. The longer he waited to touch her, the less control she had. Finally, he took one nipple in his mouth and drew a finger down between her legs. An electric jolt shot through her at his touch.

He knew just how to drive her wild. As he teased her sensitive bud, she trembled uncontrollably beneath him. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. She had to get away. She needed more. And then a burst of sensation overtook her, and she let go.

Soaring through the skies, she was weightless, suspended. Untethered from the earth, the white light of the sun filled her view, blinding. She shook as he deftly maneuvered her higher and higher, extending her peak, pushing beyond her limits. As she glided back down to a landing, she knew this was only the beginning.

“I want you. Now,” she said, knowing full well he was going to stretch things out and drive her to distraction first.

“Patience, Mrs. Pritchard. All in good time. First, I need to show my love for…this spot right here,” he said, tugging on her ear gently with lips and teeth.

“And this spot.” He nuzzled her neck.

“And this spot.” Burying his face in her shoulder, he licked and kissed until she moaned.

“Oh, and especially this spot,” he said, kissing his way down her chest until he reached a taut nipple. He paused there, kissing and licking until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

Every touch, every tantalizing kiss shot straight to her core, raising the heat until she felt positively molten.

“Ernie, please. I need you.”

“You need me where?” he taunted, kissing his way down her belly.

“You know where.”

“Oh, of course. Right here.” He lightly grazed his teeth over the tender skin of her inner thigh then followed with his tongue.

Oh, God. He was going to be the death of her.

“No? Not here?” he asked, with big, innocent eyes. “What about here?” The inside of her ankle. Really, Ernie?

“I can’t take this anymore. I need you inside me. Immediately.”

“Ah, but what part of me? My tongue?”

Before she could say a word, he buried his face between her legs.

And there went all ability to form words.

All she could do was moan and pant as he licked and sucked her into a frenzy. Conscious thought fell by the wayside, and she was completely governed by sensation and need. He held onto her bucking hips as he brought her to yet another blinding peak.

As the sparks settled, she sat up, and he looked up in surprise from his seat between her legs. Enough was enough. Time to turn the tables.

She pushed him backwards and straddled him, grasping his rigid flesh firmly and running her thumb over the tip. He made a strangled, inarticulate noise as she pumped him mercilessly, milking a bead of moisture from the tip and spreading it around with her thumb.

“I love all of your parts too, but there are limits to what a woman can take.” Hovering above him, she dragged his tip against her sensitive bud, coating him in her juices and sending a shiver of anticipation up her spine.

He watched her, wide-eyed.

“Let’s go flying, Ernie,” she said, notching his tip to her opening.

“Wait!”

She stopped, wondering what excuse he could possibly give now.

“A condom,” he said, peering back in the direction of his coat. “Unless you don’t mind the possibility of a baby.”

It was a kind thought, but unnecessary. “I don’t mind if you don’t. After all, we are about to get married.”

He swallowed. “Then I’m all yours.”

At long last, she slid down his shaft, his earlier ministrations having made her slick and slippery. He filled her completely, and it was heaven. The sensation was deeper and more all-encompassing than the pleasure he’d given her so far. She could feel him in every corner of her being as he began to move beneath her.

“I feel you everywhere,” she murmured as she began to rock with him.

“I love you everywhere,” he said earnestly as their dance gained speed.

“I love you everywhere too.” She leaned down to kiss him as her hips continued their rhythmic movement. He tasted of her essence. His kiss was so sweet and tender she could hardly stand it.

As they moved together, time seemed to slow down. The world around them receded. Bliss bloomed within her, filling her heart and spreading to every corner of her body. With Ernie, she felt whole. The aching loneliness and mistrust that had plagued her ever since Barney’s betrayal ebbed away, leaving her feeling fresh and new. Healed.

Each movement brought a new burst of sensation, a new tendril of connection. They were one, body, mind, and soul. It was unlike anything she’d felt before, and she reveled in it.

Together, they were radiant as the sun. The heat between them grew and flared, even as the light they shared encompassed them and spread out into the world. She was a ball of white heat as the final explosion came. Light obliterated everything as her body shook and writhed in the final throes. Ernie cried out beneath her as he thrust into her, filling her as she’d never been filled before, and then they collapsed together, panting.

Her body hummed with contentment, and her heart was at ease for the first time she could remember in a very long time.

Mrs. Millie Pritchard.

Yes, she could get used to that.

33

“Atoast to the groom,” said Jack, raising a glass of sparkling apple cider. The guests sitting at round tables in the modest wood-paneled reception hall of the Methodist church, where Ernie’s father was minister, all quieted down. It was mid-afternoon on Christmas Eve, and the room was decorated with Christmas trees and holly wreaths adorned with tiny model airplanes.

Oh, no. Now Ernie was in for it.

“My best friend, Ernest Pritchard, is a married man. Now, I’ve known Ernie my whole life, and I confess I never thought I’d see the day.”

Shit. Was Jack going to embarrass him by reciting his past transgressions for all to hear?

“To say Ernie was popular with the fairer sex would be an understatement. I believe his beautiful bride called him a playboy on the first day they met, if memory serves.”

“Yes, I did,” Millie chimed in with a half grin.

Ernie’s cheeks warmed, and he wanted to hide. Everyone laughed, and some daunting lady aviators over at table three gave him pointed looks. Fortunately, Millie squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek. There was nothing to do but grin and bear it.

“But Millie Aldrich—excuse me…ah…the new Mrs. Pritchard,” Jack said raising his glass and winking at her. “She came along and showed him the error of his ways in no uncertain terms. I don’t know what you did to him, Millie, but ever since you showed up at Heller Airport in October, he’s been a changed man.”

“That I am,” Ernie agreed, kissing Millie’s hand. “Changed for the better.”

“You know, these two hated each other at first,” Jack continued. “Did you know Ernie was assigned by his boss to get Millie to quit?”

“Figures,” Katherine Stinson interjected. The lady aviators gave each other commiserating looks.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Ernie said, giving Millie his best puppy-dog eyes.

“And I’m never going to let you live it down,” she said, narrowing her eyes and leaning in so that they were nose to nose. Unable to resist, he touched his lips to hers, and the assembled guests hooted and hollered, clinking their glasses.

Millie was his wife—his delicious, gorgeous wife. He could get used to this.

“But something changed,” Jack said.

“Me,” said Ernie with a laugh.

“There was a spark between these two that could not be denied. Nothing could stand in their way. Not even their boss, Mr. Dickson. When he took away their jobs and it looked like all hope was lost, these two came back and fought for each other. They showed the U.S. Postal Service what was what.”

“Hear, hear,” chimed in the table of lady aviators.

“Together, these two are unstoppable,” Jack said, “and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for them. To Mr. and Mrs. Pritchard!”

Everyone assembled raised their glasses of sparkling cider and drank. Such a shame they couldn’t have real champagne. Prohibition was such a drag. Fortunately, Ernie had a bottle of the good stuff packed in his luggage.

“My turn now,” said Beth, standing and gesturing for a waiter to refill her glass. She looked stunning in her plum-colored, satin bridesmaid dress with a fashionably low waist and hemline just below the knee. Not that she could compare with Millie, who looked like a scrumptious angel in her floor-length ivory satin gown, pearl studded headdress and cascading veil.

“The first time I heard about Ernie, Millie made me a bet that she could get him to change his ways, and I thought everyone would end up worse off for her interference. As things progressed, and it became clear that Millie was a little bit too interested in the object of her quest, I added a stipulation that she couldn’t end up romantically involved with Ernie at the end of it. Obviously, she lost the bet.”

Interesting. Ernie had no idea about this bet with Beth. He snuck a glance at Millie, who smiled and shrugged.

“I got this lovely necklace out of it,” Beth said, holding up a rope of pearls that dripped nearly to her waist.

The guests oohed and aahed.

“But,” Beth continued, “I’ve been thinking about it, and while technically, I won my bet, I think I was wrong.”

Millie gasped.

“Yes, Millie, I was wrong,” said Beth. “I may have guessed right about what was happening, but I was betting against your best interests, something I should never have done. In recognition of that, I got you something.”

Beth reached into a bag beneath the table and brought out a large, gleaming trophy and handed it to Millie whose eyes went wide.

“It says, ‘I was wrong. Love, Beth,’” Millie said, holding it up triumphantly.

“Don’t get too cocky, dear. It won’t happen again,” Beth said, walking over to Millie and kissing her on the cheek.

“You really are the best friend I could possibly have,” said Millie quietly, tearing up a bit.

“Yes, I am, and don’t you forget it,” Beth said, squeezing Millie’s arm. “To the happy couple,” Beth said loudly, turning back to the room and raising her glass.

There was raucous noise as everyone drank to their health.

Ernie looked out at the room full of friends and family, grateful for their love and support. It was a warm blanket wrapping him up on this cold winter’s day. He turned to his bride, who was looking out at the guests and smiling.

“We’re very lucky, aren’t we?” Ernie murmured in her ear.

“Yes, we are,” she murmured back.

“And now,” Ernie said, standing and holding out a hand, “I would like to dance with my wife. Millie Pritchard, will you do me the honor?”

“With pleasure.”

He led her to the dance floor, and the quartet they hired struck up a foxtrot.

“I love you, Mrs. Pritchard,” he whispered in her ear as they started to move across the dance floor in perfect sync.

“I love you too, Mr. Pritchard,” she whispered back, brushing her lips against his cheek.

Millie was his wife. Ernie could hardly believe it. His heart swelled at the thought. Was it possible to have a more perfect wife? He didn’t think so. Perfect for him, that was. She was flawed, just like him, and that made him love her all the more.

As they moved together, sinuous satin slipped against him, and he suddenly wished he had her all to himself at the Plaza Hotel where he’d reserved a room, this time with a full-sized bed.

“I had no idea about this bet,” Ernie said to distract himself from his inconvenient reaction to her gorgeous proximity. “When did you make it?”

“Right after I got back from our first trip together.”

“Very interesting. Were you attracted to me from that first trip? After all, you don’t go on crusades for just anyone.”

She stroked his back with her hand, sending shivers down his spine.

“I was attracted to you the first time I met you, not that I was going to admit it to anyone.”

He smiled.

“Likewise, though I knew I had to keep it in check. You were so fierce and determined. How could I help but be bowled over? It was very inconvenient being attracted to the woman I was supposed to make quit.”

She laughed. “I’m sure it was.”

Spinning her around, he watched her veil sweep around her and her skirt flare. What a lucky man he was!

“Can I ask you something, Mr. Pritchard?” she murmured in his ear, smiling.

“Anything, Mrs. Pritchard.”

“That night in Philadelphia when I was out with the girls…”

“Yes?”

“What did you think when you overheard me saying you were handsome? How badly did I embarrass myself?”

“Not at all. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, though I was rather flattered to hear it from a famous aviatrix.” He brushed his lips against her ear and enjoyed her shiver.

She playfully smacked his shoulder. “I knew it would give you a big head.”

He laughed. “True. And I had a rather big head already.”

“Still do,” she said as he sent her into another spin. “I’ll have to make sure to keep you humble,” she said, returning to him.

“You do it so well,” he said with a smile.

“I do, at least until you distract me with those dimples and those caramel-colored eyes of yours.”

“Are you distracted now?”

“Very.”

Someone tapped Ernie on the shoulder, and Ernie turned to see Millie’s father, whom he’d only met the week before when they’d arrived by train from Florida.

“Might I have this dance with my daughter?” Mr. Aldrich asked. Ernie had hardly noticed the song had ended and a new one had started up. He handed off his bride, reluctantly, to his father-in-law then went to find his mother.

“Are you happy dear?” Mom asked as he spun her around the dance floor in a waltz.

“Couldn’t be happier.” And it was true. He couldn’t remember a time when his heart had been this full.

“Good, sweetheart. I’m so glad.”

Ernie lost himself in the music and dancing, enjoying the good company of all his friends and family. Every so often, he looked longingly over at his bride, who had now danced with a procession of his fellow pilots.

“You’ll be true and take good care of her, won’t you?” asked Katherine Stinson, steel behind her elfin eyes as they danced the two-step.

“Of course, I will. And I know if I didn’t, I’d have you to answer to. That is if Beth didn’t do me in first. Not to mention Millie herself. You’re all a bit intimidating, you know that?”

“I’m glad you think so,” she said with a smile. “You should know what you’ve gotten yourself into. Millie’s going to beat your Chicago record, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, maneuvering Katherine around a group of other dancers. “I can’t wait to see her do it.”

“Good,” Katherine said, all sweetness again.

At long last, he made it through all the female friends and relatives that wanted to dance with him, including one very adorable flower girl he carried around the floor for a waltz. Millie joined him for another foxtrot.

“Thank God,” he said, holding her close. “I missed you.”

Millie giggled. “I missed you too. You should have heard some of the stories your friends told me about you.”

“Oh, no. I don’t think I want to know.”

“And what did my friends say to you?”

“They threatened various forms of bodily harm if I ever stepped out of line, not that I’m in any danger because I am utterly and completely yours.”

She smiled. “I have good friends.”

“And I have terrible ones from the sound of it.”

They circled around Mom and Pop who were gazing into each other’s eyes like newlyweds.

“Is it too soon for us to make an exit, do you think?” Ernie whispered in her ear. “It’s been great fun, but I can’t wait to have you all to myself, Mrs. Pritchard.”

“Hmm. Yes, I think that’s an excellent plan, Mr. Pritchard.”

The song ended, and he led her from the dance floor. He looked around for Jack and found him chatting with Constance.

Jack reddened when he saw Ernie and excused himself. “Ernie, Millie, don’t tell me you two are already tired of dancing.”

“Very tired,” Ernie said.

“Exhausted,” Millie added.

If Ernie didn’t get Millie out of here this second, he was going to burst.

Jack chuckled. “I take it you two are headed out?” When Ernie nodded, Jack signaled to the band, and they stopped. “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Pritchard are heading out now,” Jack said in a booming voice. “Join me in giving them a proper send-off.”

Beth helped Millie take off her veil and put on a white fur coat while Ernie donned his coat, gloves, and hat.

They made their way out to Millie’s red Stutz Bearcat under a shower of cheer and rice. The car’s fender had a dozen cans tied to it, and the back windshield read “Just Married.” So much for a dignified departure.

As they reached the car, a snowflake floated down and then another.

“We’d better get going before the weather turns,” Ernie said to Millie, opening the car door for her. “With our luck, it will be a blizzard by the time we get to the hotel.”

“I love it,” she said, then waved to all the guests. “Merry Christmas,” she yelled to everyone, and they cheered in return.

“Merry Christmas indeed,” Ernie murmured to himself, settling his lovely wife into her seat and then turning to give the crowd one last wave.

And with that, they set off on their new adventure. Together.

EPILOGUE

Daily News

February 4, 1921

AVIATRIX STEALS RECORD FROM PILOT HUSBAND

On February 3rd, 1921, Mrs. Mildred Pritchard, nee Aldrich, broke her husband’s record for flying from Chicago to New York. She completed the trip in seven hours and twenty-two minutes, beating Ernest Pritchard’s record by twenty-five minutes. Asked what he thought of his wife’s triumph, Mr. Pritchard said, “I’m too proud for words.” What’s next for this high-flying duo? “I was thinking of a cross-country flight, New York to San Francisco,” said Mrs. Pritchard. “And I was thinking I’d beat you to it,” said Mr. Pritchard in response. The couple resides in Brooklyn, NY, and they both work for the U.S. Postal Service’s airmail operation.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I have always believed in the power of women coming together to accomplish great things. I loved writing about this moment in history because so much is changing in society, especially for women. WWI had just ended. Women gained the right to vote, and Prohibition had just gone into effect. The roaring twenties were just getting started, and women were making their mark at the dawn of aviation. This book is for every woman who fought for us, who made good trouble and broke barriers so that we could live the lives we do today. Thank you all.

I want to express my gratitude to everyone who helped me get this book out into the world. Here is my best effort at making a list. Thanks to my Long Island Romance Writers critique group who read large portions of this book and helped me perfect it. Thanks to Ed, the docent from the Cradle of Aviation Museum, who helped me make the flight scenes and airplane descriptions as accurate as possible. Many thanks to my agent, Jason, for helping me find a home for this series. And, of course, a huge thank you to my editor, Sally, for helping me make it the best it can be. Last, but not least, lots of love to Chris for putting up with my writing and inspiring me every day. You are all wonderful, and I am deeply grateful for the help you’ve given me in bringing this book to life!

ALSO BY LESLIE VOLLARD

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Air Affair

Landing Love

Plane Passion

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Leslie Vollard writes award-winning historical romance spanning from the medieval period to the early 20th century. Romance reigns supreme in her steamy novels about how love conquers all. A 2023 Passionate Plume winner and 2025 Romance through the Ages finalist, she lives on Long Island with her delightfully nerdy husband and cat. She loves gardening, baking, and reading love poems in dead languages.

Join Leslie’s newsletter at www.leslievollard.com to get a free novella and exclusive updates on upcoming releases!

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