“Ate. Saw the sights. Fished a little.” He stopped. “Why are you laughing?”
“Two handsome young men alone in a place as decadent as Mexico and you went to see the sights! Didn’t you even get drunk?”
“No.” William was smiling. “What is the most exciting thing you’ve done?”
“It would be difficult to choose from the list. Dippy twist loops are rather exciting.” Her head came up. “Once I had a Venetian count try to tear my clothes off.”
“You found that exciting?” William asked coldly.
“It was, when you consider that we were flying at about ten thousand feet and he
was crawling across the plane toward me. A few sideslips and he got back in his seat. But he was crying that an airplane was the only place where he hadn’t yet made love to a woman.”
William laughed. “Tell me more. I like hearing about your life. It beats mine.”
“I’m not sure that’s true. I once made a dead-stick landing—that’s with a dead engine—in a plane with no wheels and only one and a half wings. That was more excitement than I wanted.”
“Which countries did you like best?”
“All of them. No, I’m serious. Each country has something to recommend it, and I try to overlook the bad parts.”
William was silent for a few minutes, staring into the fire. “Charley was a very lucky man to share so many years with you. I envy him.”
She turned her head up to look at him, frowning in concentration. “You sound as though you’ve been carrying a torch.”
“For you? Yes, I have. I used to adore you from afar.”
“How flattering. But back then you could have told me you loved me and offered me a few Montgomery millions and I still wouldn’t have stayed in Chandler.”
They sat together, his arm slipping about her shoulders as they watched the fire. “What do you need to open your freight business?” he asked.
“Seriously?”
“Very seriously.”
She took a moment before she answered. She may have just had a bump on the head, but her brains were still intact. Charley had drummed into her that a pilot without any money must always be on the lookout for an airplane-lover who did have money. “Now, that’s a marriage made in heaven,” he used to say. She wouldn’t want to take advantage of this man, but if he was bored and had pots of money, maybe they could find something that would help him occupy his time.
She took a deep breath, trying to banish her feelings of guilt. If he wanted to do something for her, it was because he believed her to be an American heroine. But if Jackie took money from him, it would have to do with something much less altruistic, something much more primitive, such as putting bread on the table and maybe a few really nice dresses on her back. “A couple of good, light planes. A full-time mechanic, hangars, a few old planes I can cannibalize for parts, money for salaries until I can pay the pilots.”
“Anything else you need? A partner perhaps?”
Right away she knew that he was suggesting himself. Now was not the time to make such a decision. Her head was still seeping blood, and her thinking was fuzzy. However, it was delicious to think of this man as her partner. Smiling, she looked up at him, trying to place him. “Who are your parents?”
“Jace and Nellie.”
“Ah, that explains it. Half the town is parented by those two.”
William smiled. All his life he’d heard jokes about the number of children in his family. “Twelve in all.” He was emptying the big picnic basket that seemed to hold enough food for half a dozen loggers. Without saying a word, he began making her a sandwich. Jackie watched in astonishment as he made it just the way she would have made it for herself: chipped beef piled high, lots and lots of mustard, tomatoes; then he sliced a sweet pickle and placed the slices on top of the tomato, using two leaves of lettuce to protect the bread so it wouldn’t get soggy. Watching his face, she could see that he wasn’t paying any attention to what he was doing, that he was concentrating totally on whatever was running through his mind. But it was odd that he would make her a sandwich that was just what she would have made, especially since her sandwiches were, well, unique.
“Look what I’ve done,” William said. “I was going to make you a sandwich first and now I…” He looked at her. “What do you want?”
“Just like the one you made for yourself.”
His handsome face showed a moment’s consternation before he smiled. “Honest? Everyone hates my sandwiches.”
“Mine too,” she said, reaching out her hand. “How about halves and I’ll make the second one? I cut up olives instead of pickles.”
“And then everyone complains that the olives fall off.”