‘‘We should stop that gas from dripping all over the plane,’’ Canidy replied. ‘‘I think it’ll be all right to fly out of here.’’
‘‘I got some tools in the car,’’ Robert said.
‘‘Why don’t you get on the horn, Eddie, and call in and tell them what’s happened. Don’t tell them to send anybody till we have a chance to take a good look at it.’’
‘‘Yes, sir, Mr. Canidy, sir,’’ Bitter said. He gave Canidy a mock salute. But there was something not entirely joking about the exchange.
‘‘And I’ll see, in the meantime, what I can fix for you to eat. A sandwich, at least. Robert and I just came down this morning. I don’t know what’s here, but there should be enough for a sandwich,’’ Jenny Chambers said.
The car was a 1939 Lincoln coupe with Alabama license plates. A very expensive car, in keeping, Canidy decided, with Tara. And Eddie was a member of the family. That was very interesting. It also explained a number of things about him, not only his Buick Roadmaster convertible.
The trunk of the Lincoln held a toolkit, with a set of open-end wrenches in individual compartments. Tightening the fuel line connection—even taking great care to make sure the wrench didn’t slip and spark—took no more than a minute. Robert handed Canidy a rag, and he wiped the line down. There was no drip, and therefore no reason Eddie couldn’t fly the Stearman.
Canidy was aware that he was disappointed. It might have been interesting to have been forced to spend the night here. There was a moment’s rebirth of hope when he thought that the gasoline might have dripped into the fuselage, where it would have formed dangerously explosive vapors. But when he looked, he saw that it had fallen onto a solid piece of the aluminum, and from there down the solid aluminum wing root to the ground. Once an hour had passed to allow any chance vapors to disperse, the plane would be safe to fly.
Canidy ordered the student pilots into the Lincoln’s backseat, and rode with Robert back to the mansion. Jenny Chambers had opened a tinned ham, and made sandwiches and tea.
‘‘I’d love to offer you something stronger than tea,’’ Jenny Chambers said, ‘‘but Eddie has told me that you can’t drink and fly.’’
‘‘Not very far, anyway,’’ Canidy replied. ‘‘But I appreciate the spirit of your offer.’’
She laughed. ‘‘I like you, Lieutenant Canidy,’’ she said. ‘‘And is it really true you can order Eddie around?’’
‘‘Yes, ma’am,’’ Canidy said. ‘‘Is there anything you would like me to have him do for you?’’
‘‘Order him here for the weekend,’’ she said. ‘‘All of you, of course.’’
‘‘I don’t . . .’’ Eddie began.
‘‘Tell him to let me finish,’’ Jenny Chambers said.
‘‘Let the lady finish, Lieutenant,’’ Canidy said.
‘‘Or he’ll clap you in irons,’’ she said, and then she went on. ‘‘My daughter, who is in college, up north, Bryn Mawr, is coming here with two friends,’’ she said. ‘‘So there would be people about your own age. And my husband used to be a pilot, and loves to talk flying. And then your cousin Mark is coming up from Mobile, Eddie, with his wife. You haven’t seen them in years, either.’’
‘‘The girls are a little young for Dick, Aunt Genevieve,’’ Ed Bitter said.
‘‘Just the right age,’’ she argued. ‘‘I’m five years younger than your uncle.’’
‘‘And you’re putting Dick on a spot, you realize.’’
‘‘Not at all,’’ Canidy said.
Dick Canidy suddenly got out of his chair and walked to a photograph sitting on a table just outside the dining room.
‘‘Can I get you something, Dick?’’ Jenny Chambers asked.
‘‘I thought this photograph looked familiar,’’ he said. It was a picture of Sue-Ellen Chambers and her husband.
‘‘And is it?’’
‘‘No,’’ he said.
‘‘That’s my son, Mark,’’ Jenny Chambers said. ‘‘And his wife, Sue-Ellen.’’
‘‘You’ll meet them this weekend,’’ Ed Bitter said. ‘‘Since it has been decided we’re going to come up here.’’
If he were a gentleman, Dick Canidy thought, he would say sorry, he’d already made plans for the weekend. But he said nothing. He wanted to see Sue-Ellen again.