She stayed out of her father's office that afternoon, and at six o'clock, Nick saw her far down the runway, signaling a plane in, and then disappearing into one of the hangars with the pilot. He sought her out a little while later, and she had oil on her face, and her hair was tied in a knot on her head. She had a huge smudge of grease on the tip of her nose, and her hands were filthy. He couldn't help laughing as he looked at her. She was quite a picture.

“What's funny?” She looked tired, but happy, as she smiled up at him. He had always been like a brother to her. She was aware of how handsome he was, but it didn't mean anything. They were good friends, and she loved him.

“You're funny. Have you looked in the mirror today?

You're wearing more oil than my Bellanca. Your father is going to love that look.”

“My father wants me cleaning house in a housedress, and boiling potatoes for him.”

‘That's useful too.”

“Yeah?” She cocked her head to one side, and was an intriguing combination of absurdity and sheer beauty. “Can you cook potatoes, Stick?” She called him that sometimes and it always made him smile as he did now when he answered.

“If I have to. I can cook too, you know.”

“But you don't have to. And when was the last time you cleaned house?”

“I don't know…” He looked thoughtful, “Ten years ago maybe… about 1926?” He was grinning at her and they were both laughing.

“See what I mean?”

“Yeah. But I see what he means too. I'm not married and I don't have kids. And he doesn't want you to end up like me. Living in a shack off the runway and flying mail runs to Cleveland.” His “shack” was very comfortable by then if not luxurious.

“Sounds good to me.” She grinned. “The mail runs I mean.”

“That's the problem.”

“He's the problem,” she disagreed. “There are plenty of women flying and leading interesting lives. The Ninety-Nines arc full of them.” It was a professional organization founded by ninety-nine female pilots.

“Don't try and convince me. Tell him.”

“It's pointless.” She looked discouraged as she looked up at her old friend. “I just hope he lets me be out here all summer.” It was all she wanted to do now that she was out of school until the end of August. It would be a long summer, hiding from him, and trying to avoid confrontations.

“Couldn't you get yourself a job somewhere else, so he doesn't drive us both crazy?” But they both knew that she preferred to do without any extra money at all than miss a moment at the airport.

“There isn't anything else I want to do.”

“I know. You don't have to tell me.” He knew the extent of her passion better than anyone else. He had suffered from the same disease himself. But he'd been lucky. The war, his sex, and Pat O'Malley had made it possible for him to spend the rest of his life flying. Somehow, he didn't think that Cassie O'Malley was going to be as lucky. In a funny way, he would have loved to take her up in a plane one of these days, just to see how well she would fly, but that was one headache he didn't need, and he knew Pat would kill him for it. Without meddling in Pat's family life, Nick had his own work to do, and there was plenty of it at the airport.

As Nick went back to his desk to clear up the last of his paperwork, he saw Chris arrive. He was a good-looking boy, a handsome blond with fine features like his mother's, and his father's powerful build, and warm brown eyes. He was bright and nice and well liked. He had everything in the world going for him, except a love for airplanes. He was working at the newspaper that summer, doing layouts, and he was grateful he didn't have to work at the airport.

“Is my sister here?” he asked Nick hesitantly. He almost looked as though he wished Nick would say no. He looked as though he couldn't wait to leave the airport. As it was, Cassie had expected him an hour before and she'd asked Nick impatiently half a dozen times if he'd seen him.

“She is indeed.” Nick smiled at him. He kept his voice low so he wouldn't irritate Pat, in case he overheard him. “She's in the back hangar with some pilot who just flew in.”

“I'll find her.” Chris waved at Nick, who promised to take him up again in a few days, when he came back from a run to San Diego, I'll be here. I came out to practice my solos,” he said solemnly.

“I'm impressed.” Nick raised an eyebrow, amazed at how badly the boy obviously wanted to please his father. It was no secret to Nick that Chris really didn't enjoy his lessons. It wasn't that he was afraid, it was more that they just bored him. To him, flying meant nothing. “See ya.”

Chris found Cassie easily, and she left her newfound friend very quickly once she saw her brother. She was quick to berate him. “You're late, now we're going to be late for dinner. Dad'll have a fit.”

“Then let's not do it.” He shrugged. He hadn't even wanted to leave work as early as he had, but he knew she'd be furious with him if he didn't.

“Come on,” she blazed at him. “I've been waiting all day!” She flashed an angry look at him, and he groaned. He knew her too well. There was no escaping Cassie when she set her mind to something. “I'm not going home till we do it.”

“Okay, okay. But we can't stay up for long.”

“Half an hour.” She was begging him, pleading with him, turning her huge blue eyes imploringly to his gentle brown ones.

“Okay. Okay. But if you do anything to get us into trouble, Cass, I swear I'm going to kill you. Dad would have my hide for this.”

“I promise. I won't do anything.” He searched her eyes as she promised him, and he wanted more than anything to believe her, but he didn't.

Together, they walked toward the old Jenny their father had had for several years. It had been built as a trainer for the military, and Pat had told Chris he could use it now any time he wanted to practice. All he had to do was tell Nick, and he just had. Chris had a copy of the key, and he took it out of his pocket. Cassie almost salivated when she saw it. She was standing close to him, and she could feel her heart beat as Chris opened the door to the small open-cockpit airplane.

“Will you stop it?” He looked annoyed at her, “I can feel you breathing on me. I swear… you're sick…” He felt as though he were helping an addict supply his habit as they walked around the plane, checking the wires and ailerons. Chris put on his flying helmet and goggles and gloves, and then got into the plane in the rear seat, and Cassie climbed in quickly ahead of him intending to look like a passenger, but somehow she didn't. She looked too knowledgeable, too comfortable, even in the front seat, especially once she put on her own helmet and goggles.

They both buckled in, and Cassie knew the plane was well fueled, because part of her deal with her brother was doing all the scutwork for him; and she had done it herself that afternoon. Everything was ready and she inhaled the familiar smell of castor oil that was characteristic of the Jenny. And five minutes later they were headed down the runway, with Cassie watching Chris's style critically. He was always too cautious, too slow, and once she turned around to signal to him to go faster, and pull up. She didn't care if anyone saw her. She knew that no one was watching now, and everything she knew, she knew from listening and watching. She had watched her father and Nick, transient pilots, and barnstormers. She had picked up some real skills, and a few tricks, and she knew flying by instinct and by sheer intuition. It was Chris who had had the lessons, and yet it was Cassie who knew exactly what to do and they both knew she could have flown the plane easily without him, and a lot more smoothly.

Eventually, she shouted at him over the sound of the engine, and he nodded, willing her not to do anything foolish. But they both knew exactly why they had come up here. Chris was taking lessons from Nick, and in turn he was giving Cassie lessons. Or, in fact, the way it had been working out, Chris was taking her up in the plane, and letting her fly it, and she was giving him lessons. Or just enjoying the opportunity to fly. She seemed to know how to do everything, a lot better than Chris did. She was a natural. And she had promised to pay him twenty dollars a month for unlimited opportunities to fly with him in their father's plane. He wanted the money to spend on his girlfriend, so he had agreed to do it for her. It was a perfect arrangement. And she had worked hard all winter, at odd jobs, baby-sitting, and loading groceries, and even shoveling snow to save the money.

Cassie handled the controls with ease. She did some S turns, and lazy eights, and then moved on to some deep turns, which she did carefully, and with perfect precision. Even Chris was impressed with her easy, careful style, and he was suddenly grateful to her for how good she would make him look, if anyone was watching him from the ground. She was a splendid pilot. She moved into a loop then, and then he started to get nervous. They'd been up together several times before, and he hated it when she did anything fancy. She was too good, too fast, and he was afraid she might get out of control completely and do something really scary. For twenty bucks, he wasn't willing to let her terrify him. But she didn't even notice him. She was concentrating on her flying. So he just glared at the back of her helmet, and watched her red hair fly in the breeze around it. And eventually, totally fed up with her, he tapped her hard on the shoulder. It was time to go back, and she knew it. But for a few minutes, she pretended to ignore him.

She wanted to do a spin, but there was no time and she knew Chris would have a fit if she tried it.

But in his calmer moments, he'd have had to admit that his sister was a very smooth pilot. Even if she did scare the pants off him more than half the time. He just didn't trust her. At any moment, she was perfectly capable of doing something really crazy. There was something about airplanes that went to her head and made her forget all reason.