Wings. Part 9

But leaving them was harder than she'd feared. She met with Desmond Williams at the Portsmouth the next morning, and signed the contract with him. She had black coffee and toast, she was too nervous to eat anything else, and the details of what he was telling her were so exciting that she kept getting confused. They were going to arrange a flight for her from Chicago to Los Angeles. There was an apartment, a car... uniforms... a chaperone when they felt she needed one... a wardrobe... escorts, a weekend place in Malibu she could use. A plane for her personal use, whenever she wanted to fly home. And the kinds of planes she had always dreamed about flying.

Her schedule began in five days. There would be a press conference, a newsreel, and a test flight of a new Starlifter right off the bat. He wanted her to show America just how good she was. But first he wanted to show her what his planes could do. He was going to spend the first two weeks with her, mostly flying.

"I can't believe it," she said to Billy as they lay in the sun on an old unused piece of runway later that morning.

"You sure did get a big break," he said enviously. But he was happy here, and for the moment he had no desire to go back to California.

"I'll be home in two weeks for a visit, no matter what," she promised him and everyone else.

Her parents gave a big dinner for her the night before she left, with all her sisters and brothers-in-law, their kids, Chris, Nick, and Billy. Bobby wasn't there of course, although she had seen him two days before at Jim Bradshaw's wake. He had been talking quietly with Peggy, and holding one of her babies.

But it was Nick she stood next to all night, whom she couldn't bear to leave. She derived so much comfort and support from him, and had for so so many years, that now she didn't know how she would survive without him. many years, that now she didn't know how she would survive without him.

The next morning everyone was at the airport when she left. Nick was flying her to Chicago in the Vega, and after she kissed her mother and sisters and Chris goodbye, she went over to her father. They both had tears in their eyes as he looked at her. He wanted to ask her to change her mind, but he would never do it.

"Thank you, Dad," she whispered into his neck as he held her close to him.

"Be careful, Ca.s.sie. Ray attention. Don't ever get sloppy in one of those fancy planes. They won't forgive you for an instant."

"I promise, Dad."

"I wish I believed you," he smiled, "d.a.m.n female pilot." He was laughing then through his tears, and gave her another bear hug and then sent her off with Nick. Chris and Billy were waving from the runway too, when they took off, and Ca.s.sie heaved an enormous sigh. It had been harder leaving home than she had ever dreamed, and all she could think of were the people she was leaving there, instead of the places where she was going. And as she turned to look at Nick, her heart felt heavier still. She wanted to hold onto every moment she had with him.

"You're a lucky girl," Nick reminded her on the way up, to take her mind off her family, who were still waving at her, "but you deserve it. You've got what it takes, Ca.s.s. Just don't let those city slickers use you." Desmond Williams was indeed pretty slick, but he also seemed both fair and honest. He had made no bones about what he wanted from her. He wanted the best pilot in the world, the best-looking, best behaved woman he could find to represent his product, he wanted new records set, and his planes unharmed and well viewed by the American public. It was a tall order, but she was capable of filling it for him, and he was smart enough to sense that. She was the best pilot he had ever seen, and good-looking too, and for him, that was a beginning. For Nick it was an end. But he was more than willing to sacrifice himself for her future. It was his final gift of love to her. First flying, and then finally, her freedom.

"Don't let them push you around," Nick reminded her; "you're a great girl, and if they're too tough on you, tell them to go to h.e.l.l, and come straight home. All you have to do is call, and I'll fly out to get you." It sounded crazy, but it was actually rea.s.suring.

"Will you come out to see me?"

"Sure. Whenever I have a run out there, I'll take a little detour."

"Don't give the California runs to Billy then," she reminded him, "be sure you do them yourself." He smiled at her admonition. She was suddenly looking very nervous.

"I kind of thought you might like to see more of him," Nick said, speaking of Billy as nonchalantly as he could, which meant not very. "Was I wrong?" He was relieved at what she had just said. But he had already begun to suspect that Billy was a friend and not a romance, just as her father had predicted. But it was nice to hear her confirm it. What he wanted from her was celibacy and total adoration, and he knew how crazy that was. One of these days she'd have to find a husband, and have kids, and he knew it wouldn't be him, but he wished it could be.

"Billy and I are just friends," she said quietly. "You know that."

"Yeah. Maybe I do."

"You know a lot of things," she said wisely. "About me, about life, about what matters, about what doesn't. You've taught me a lot, Nick. You've made my whole life mean something to me. You've given me everything."

"I wish I had, Ca.s.s, but I haven't done all that well myself. And no one deserves it all more than you do."

"Yes, you have given me everything," she said, her admiration obvious, her love for him even more so.

"I'm no Desmond Williams, Ca.s.s," he said honestly. He had no pretense about him.

"Who is? Most people aren't that lucky."

"You might be one day, Ca.s.s. You might become someone someone really really important," important,"

"From being in newsreels and getting my picture taken? I doubt it. That's show-offy stuff, it's not real. I know that much."

"You're a smart girl, Ca.s.s. Stay that way. Don't let them spoil it."

They landed in Chicago after a little while, and he walked her to her plane, carrying her bag for her. She was wearing a navy blue suit that had been her mother's. It looked a little out of date, and it was too big for her, but it was hard to make Ca.s.sie O'Malley look anything but lovely. At twenty years of age, she took your breath away, with her s.h.i.+ning red hair, her big blue eyes, her full bust and long legs, the tiny waist he loved to put his hands around when he helped her to the ground. But she was looking up at him now, like a child, and all he wanted to do was take her back to her mother. Her eyes were filled with tears, but she wasn't crying for them, she was crying for him. She didn't want to leave him.

"Come and see me, Nick... I'll miss you so much...."

"I'll always be there for you, kid... don't you forget that"

"I won't," she sniffed, and he put an arm around her and held her. He didn't say anything else to her. He just kissed the top of her head, and walked away. There was nothing else he could say, and he knew if he did, his voice would betray him, and he'd never leave her.

11.

When the flight from Chicago landed in Los Angeles, there were three people waiting to meet her, a driver, a representative from the company, and Mr. Williams's secretary. Ca.s.sie was a little surprised to see them. He had told her she would be met at the plane, but she hadn't expected to be met so officially, or by so many people.

On the drive to Newport Beach, the company representative gave her a list of appointments for the week, a review of their latest planes, a test flight in each of them, a press conference with all the most important members of the local press, and a newsreel. The secretary then gave her a list of social events she was expected to attend with and without any of several escorts, and a few with Mr. Williams. It was more than a little overwhelming. But she was even more overcome when she saw the apartment they had rented for her. It was in Newport Beach, and it had a bedroom, a living room, and a dining room, all overlooking the ocean. It had spectacular views, and a terrace which surrounded it. The refrigerator was stocked, the furniture was beautiful, there were Italian linens in the drawers. And she was told that a maid would attend to her needs if she wished to entertain, and she would clean the apartment daily.

"I... oh, my Lord!" Ca.s.sie exclaimed as she opened a drawer full of lace tablecloths. Her mother would have given her left arm to have any one of them, and Ca.s.sie couldn't begin to imagine why she had them. "What are these for?"

"Mr. Williams thought you'd like to entertain," his personal secretary, Miss Fitzpatrick, said primly. She was twice Ca.s.sie's age, and she had gone to school at Miss Porter's in the East. She knew very little about planes, but she knew everything there was to know about all things social, and the proper decorum.

"But I don't know anyone here," Ca.s.sie laughed as she spun around, looking at the apartment. She had never dreamed of anything even remotely like it. She was dying to tell someone, or show them. Billy, Nick... her sisters... her mom... but there was no one here. Just Ca.s.sie, and her entourage. And when she looked in the bedroom, she found all her new clothes neatly arranged for her. There were four or five well-cut suits in an array of somber colors, several hats to match, a long black evening dress and two short ones. There were even shoes and some handbags. Everything was in the sizes she had given them. And in a smaller closet in the room, she found all her uniforms. They were navy blue, and looked extremely official. There was even a small hat that had been designed for it, and regulation shoes. And for a moment, she almost felt her heart sink. Maybe Nick was right. Maybe she was going to be a Skygirl.

Everything was so regimented and prearranged, it was all like a very strange dream. It was like being dropped into someone else's life, with their clothes, and their apartment. It was hard to believe this was all hers now.

There was a young woman waiting for Ca.s.sie too. She was neatly dressed in a gray suit, with a matching hat. She had a warm smile, lively blue eyes, and well-cut dark blond hair that hung to her shoulders in a smooth page boy. And she appeared to be in her early thirties.

'This is Nancy Firestone," Miss Fitzpatrick explained. "She will be your chaperone, whenever Mr. Williams feels that one is needed. She can help you with whatever needs you have, handle the press, escort you to meetings and luncheons." The young woman introduced herself to Ca.s.s, and gave her a warm smile as she showed her around the apartment. A chaperone? What would she do with her? Leave her on the runway when she tested planes? After seeing all of it, Ca.s.sie was beginning to wonder if she'd even have time to fly one.

'It's all a little overwhelming at first," Nancy Firestone said sympathetically. "Why don't you let me unpack for you, and then we can talk about your schedule over lunch?" Nancy said, as Ca.s.sie glanced around, feeling lost. She had noticed a maid in the kitchen making sandwiches and a salad. She was an older woman in a black uniform, and she seemed perfectly at home there. Far more than Ca.s.sie felt at the moment. She couldn't help wondering what she was going to do with all these people. It was obvious that they were there to help, and Desmond Williams had certainly provided every possible creature comfort. He had done more than that. He had provided a dream for her. But suddenly all she felt was desperately lonely among all these strangers. And Nancy Firestone seemed to sense that. That was why Williams had hired her. He knew her well, and had a.s.sessed instantly that she was just what Ca.s.sie needed.

"Are we going out to look at the planes today?" Ca.s.sie asked mournfully. At least that was something she understood, and she was a lot more interested in planes than in what she'd seen in her closet. At least the Planes were familiar to her, and this glamorous lifestyle wasn't. She hadn't come to California to play dress-up. She had come to fly airplanes. And amid all the hats and shoes and gloves, and people who were there to take care of her, she wondered if she'd ever get a chance to fly one. Suddenly, all Ca.s.sie wanted was her simple life in Illinois, and a hangar full of her father's airplanes.

"We'll go out to the airfield tomorrow," Nancy said kindly. She knew instinctively, and from everything Desmond had said, that she had to treat Ca.s.sie gently. This was a whole new world for her, and he had warned Nancy that she would be new to all this and probably a little startled at first, but she was also headstrong and independent. He didn't want her suddenly deciding that this wasn't for her. He wanted her to like it. "Mr. Williams didn't want to wear you out on the first day," she smiled warmly, as they sat down and helped themselves to sandwiches. But Ca.s.sie wasn't hungry.

"You have a press conference at five o'clock. The hairdresser is coming here at three. And we have a lot to talk about before that." She made it sound as though they were just two girls getting ready for a party, and Ca.s.sie's head was spinning as she listened. Williams's secretary, Miss Fitzpatrick, left the apartment then, after pointing to a stack of briefing papers Mr. Williams wanted her to have about his planes. And she said tersely that Mr. Williams would come by to pick her up between four and four-thirty.

"He's taking you to the press conference," Nancy explained as the door closed behind Miss Fitzpatrick. She made it sound like a great honor, and Ca.s.sie knew it was. But it terrified her anyway. They all did. All Ca.s.sie could do by then was stare at Nancy Firestone in dismay and amazement. What was all this? What did it mean? What was she doing here? And what did any of it have to do with airplanes? Nancy read her face easily and tried to rea.s.sure her.

"I know it's a little startling at first," Nancy smiled calmly. She was a pretty woman, but there was something sad in her eyes that Ca.s.sie had noticed the moment she saw her. But she seemed determined to make Ca.s.sie feel at ease in these unfamiliar surroundings.

"I don't even know where to start," Ca.s.sie admitted to her, suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to cry, but she knew that she couldn't. They were all being so good to her, but there was so much to absorb and understand, the clothes, the appointments, what they expected of her, what she had to say to the press. All she really wanted to do was learn about the planes, and instead she had to worry about how she looked and dressed, and if she sounded intelligent or grown-up enough. It was terrifying, and even Nancy Firestone's warmth was of very little comfort.

At first glance, it almost seemed as though they had brought her out for show and not for flying. "What do they want with me?" Ca.s.sie asked her honestly as they sat looking out at the Pacific. "Why did he bring me out here?" She was almost sorry she'd come now. It was just too scary.

"He brought you here," Nancy answered her, "because I hear you're one of the best pilots he's ever seen. You must be terrific, Ca.s.sie. Desmond doesn't impress easily. And he hasn't stopped talking about you since he saw you at the air show. But he brought you here because you're a woman too, and not just an amazing pilot. And to Desmond, that's very important." In some ways, women were important to him. In others, they mattered not at all. But Nancy didn't explain that to Ca.s.sie. Desmond Williams liked to have women around when they served his purposes, but he attached himself to no one. "He thinks that women sell planes better than men because they're more exciting. He thinks that women-women like you, that is-are the future of aviation. You're a terrific press bonus for him, and a great boost for public relations." She didn't tell Ca.s.sie it was also because of her looks, but that was part of it. She was a real beauty, and if she hadn't been, she wouldn't have been there. Nancy knew he had been looking for someone like her for a long time, and he had talked to a lot of female pilots, and gone to a lot of air shows before he found her. This was an idea he had had for years, even before George Putnam discovered Amelia Earhart.

"But why me? Who cares about me?" Ca.s.sie asked innocently, still looking overwhelmed in spite of Nancy's encouragement and explanations. She still didn't understand it. She wasn't stupid, she was naive, and it was difficult for most people to conceive of a mind like Desmond Williams's. Nancy knew a lot about him, from her husband, before he died, testing one of Williams's planes, from the other pilots he knew, and from her own experiences since Skip had died. Desmond Williams had done a lot to help her. In many ways, he'd been a G.o.dsend. Yet there were things about him that were unnerving. There was a single-mindedness about him that was frightening at times. When he wanted something, or when he thought something would be good for the company, he would stop at nothing to get it.

He had been very good to her when Skip died, and he had done everything possible for her and her daughter. He had told her that she and Jane were part of the "family," that Williams Aircraft would take care of them forever. He had opened a bank account for them, and all of their needs would be provided for. Jane's education was a.s.sured, and Nancy's pension. Skip had died for Desmond Williams, and he would never forget it. He had even bought a small house for them. And drawn up a contract. She was to remain an employee of Williams Aircraft for the next twenty years, doing projects such as these, nothing too unreasonable, or terribly wearing. But projects that required intelligence and loyalty. He reminded her subtly of how much he'd done for them, and suddenly she knew she had no choice but to do what he wanted. Skip had left them nothing but debts and sweet memories. And now, after all he'd done for her and Jane, Desmond Williams owned her. He kept her in a pretty little gilded cage, he made good use of her, he was fair, or at least he seemed to be, but he never let her forget that he owned her. She couldn't go anywhere, she couldn't leave; if she did, they'd have nothing again. She had no real training for anything, she'd be lucky to get a job, and Janie would never go to college. But if she stayed, she could keep what he'd given her. And Williams saw something useful in her, just as he did in Ca.s.sie. And what he wanted he got. He bought it, fair and square, and he paid a high price for it. But there was no mistaking his owners.h.i.+p once the contract was signed, and the purchase complete. He was a smart man, and he always knew what he wanted.

"Everyone will care about you eventually," Nancy said quietly. She knew more about his plans than she intended to share with Ca.s.sie. He was a genius at dealing with the press, and creating a huge concept from a very small one. "The American public will come to love you. Women and planes are what's ahead of us now. Williams Aircraft makes the finest planes that fly, but to have that brought home to the public through your eyes, through you you, is a very powerful thing. To have you identified with his planes will give them a special appeal, a special magic." And Desmond Williams knew that. It was that that he wanted from Ca.s.sie. He'd been looking for years for a woman who embodied the American dream, young, beautiful, a simple girl with great looks, a good mind, and a brilliant flier. And much to everyone's amazement, he had finally found her in Ca.s.sie O'Malley. And what better fate for her? What more could she possibly have wanted? Nancy knew Ca.s.sie was a lucky girl, and even if there were strings attached eventually, even if he wanted lifetime fealty, he would make it up to her. She'd be famous and rich, and a legend, if she played her cards right. Even in Nancy's eyes, knowing just how tightly those strings could be tied, she thought that Ca.s.sie O'Malley was to be envied. Desmond was going to make her a star like no other.

"It's so strange though, when you think of it," Ca.s.sie said, looking thoughtfully at Nancy. "I'm no one. I'm not jean Batten, or Amy Johnson, or anyone important. I'm a kid from Illinois who won four prizes at the local air show. So what?" she asked modestly, finally taking a bite of a perfectly made chicken sandwich.

"You're not 'just a kid' anymore," Nancy said wisely, "or you won't be after five o'clock today." She knew just how carefully Desmond had begun laying the groundwork from the moment she'd signed the contract. "And just how do you think those other women got started? Without someone like Desmond to publicize them, they'd never have happened." Ca.s.sie listened, but she didn't agree with her. Their reputations were built on skill, not just on publicity, but Nancy clearly believed in what Williams was doing. "Earhart was what George Putnam made of her. Desmond has always been fascinated by that. He always felt that she was a lot less of a pilot than Putnam made her out to be, and maybe he was right." Skip had thought so too, and as Nancy thought of it, she looked at Ca.s.sie sadly. Ca.s.sie was intrigued by Nancy, though there was a lot she liked about her, and yet there was a part of her that seemed very removed. She seemed both enthusiastic about what lay ahead for Ca.s.sie, and maybe even a little bit jealous. She made it all sound like such a great deal, and she spoke of "Desmond" as though she knew him better than she would ever have admitted. Watching her, Ca.s.sie couldn't help wondering if there was anything between them, or maybe she just admired him a great deal, and wanted to be sure that Ca.s.sie appreciated everything he had done for her. It was all a lot to absorb and a.n.a.lyze in one afternoon, as they sorted through Ca.s.sie's things, and Nancy tried to explain the importance of "marketing" to her. Like Desmond, Nancy thought it was everything. It was what made people buy the products other people made. In this case, planes. Ca.s.sie was part of a larger plan. What she was, what she would be, was a tool to sell airplanes. It was an odd concept to her, and when the hairdresser arrived, she was still trying to understand it.

Nancy had told her about her husband by then, and Jane. She had explained, simply, that Skip had died in an accident the year before during a test flight over Las Vegas. She spoke about it very calmly, but there was something ravaged in her eyes when she spoke of him. In a way, her life had ended when he died, or she felt that way. But in a number of ways, Desmond Williams had changed that.

"He's been very good to me," she said quietly, "and to my daughter," Ca.s.sie nodded, watching her, and then the hairdresser distracted both of them with her plans for Ca.s.sie's bright red mane. She wanted to give it a good trim, and have her wear it long, like Lauren Bacall. She even said she saw a similarity, which made Ca.s.sie guffaw. She knew Nick would have really laughed if he'd heard that, or at least she thought so. But Nancy took the hairdresser very seriously, and approved of everything she wanted.

"What exactly is it they want from me?" Ca.s.sie asked with a nervous sigh, as the hairdresser clipped and snipped with determination, and Nancy watched her.

She managed to glance at her new charge with a smile, and answered her as best she could.

"They want you to look pretty, sound smart, behave yourself, and fly like an angel. That about sums it up," She smiled again and Ca.s.sie grinned at the description. Nancy made it sound surprisingly simple.

"That shouldn't be too hard. The flying part anyway; the behaving ought to be okay if it means don't fall down drunk or run around with guys. I'm not sure what 'sound smart' is going to to mean, that could be rough, and 'pretty' could be hopeless," Ca.s.sie grinned at her new friend. When she stopped feeling terrified over it, it was all very exciting. How did things like this happen? It was almost like being in a movie. There was a feeling of unreality to it that she just couldn't escape now. mean, that could be rough, and 'pretty' could be hopeless," Ca.s.sie grinned at her new friend. When she stopped feeling terrified over it, it was all very exciting. How did things like this happen? It was almost like being in a movie. There was a feeling of unreality to it that she just couldn't escape now.

"I get the feeling you haven't looked in the mirror in a while," Nancy said honestly, and Ca.s.sie nodded.

"No time. I've been too busy flying and repairing planes at my father's airport."

"You'll have to learn to look in the mirror now." This was why Williams had so much faith in Nancy. She was tactful, ladylike, intelligent, she did what she was told, and she knew what was expected. Desmond Williams knew his people well and he always knew exactly what he was buying. He had never doubted for a moment that Nancy would be useful to him when they had signed their contract. "Just smile and think that a few photographs won't hurt you. And the rest of the time you can fly anything you want. It's an opportunity almost no one gets, Ca.s.sie. You're very lucky," Nancy encouraged her. She knew just what flying fanatics liked, and how to cajole Ca.s.sie into doing the things she didn't. Like the press conferences she was scheduled for, the interviews, the newsreels, and the parties Desmond wanted her to be seen at. Miss Fitzpatrick had even provided a list of escorts.

"Why do I have to go to those?" Ca.s.sie asked suspiciously about the parties.

"Because people have to get to know your name. Mr. Williams went to a lot of trouble to have you included, and you really can't disappoint him." She said it surprisingly firmly.

"Oh," Ca.s.sie said, looking more than a little daunted. She didn't want to seem ungrateful, and she was already beginning to trust Nancy's opinions. It was all happening so quickly, and Nancy was her only friend here. And what Nancy said was true, Williams was doing a lot for her, and maybe she owed it to him to accept his invitations. Nonetheless, to Ca.s.sie, looking at the list, the social obligations seemed endless. But Desmond Williams knew exactly what he was doing. And so did Nancy.

When the hairdresser was finished, they all liked Ca.s.sie's hair. She suddenly looked more sophisticated, but it was both elegant and simple. And then the hairdresser helped Ca.s.sie to do her makeup. At three-fifteen she took a bath and at three forty-five, she put on her own underwear, and the silk stockings that had been left (or her. And when she put on a dark green suit at four o'clock,. she looked like a million dollars.

"Wow!" Nancy said, adjusting Ca.s.sie's blouse carefully and checking that the shoes matched her suit and handbag.

"Silk stockings!" Ca.s.sie beamed. "Wait till I tell Mom!" She was grinning like a kid and Nancy laughed and asked if she had any earrings. Ca.s.sie looked blank and then shook her head. Her mom had a pair that had been her mother's, but Ca.s.sie had never owned any. Nor had her sisters.

"I'll have to tell Mr. Williams." Nancy made a note to herself. She needed a string of pearls too. He had told Nancy exactly the look he wanted. No greasy overalls or work clothes. They could save that for one rare shot, maybe for Life, as part of a bigger shoot. But the look he wanted for her on the ground was pure Lady. Although all Nancy could think of as she looked at her was Rita Hayworth.

Desmond Williams arrived promptly at four o'clock, and he was very pleased with what he saw. He handed Ca.s.sie some photographs and details of the Phaeton and Starlifter she was going to fly that week, just so she could familiarize herself with them. And the following week she had some important tests to do on a high-alt.i.tude plane he was trying to convert for the Army Air Corps. But as she looked at the photographs, she couldn't help thinking of Nancy's husband. What if Desmond's planes were too dangerous, or the risks he wanted her to take were too great? Like all good test pilots, she tempered blind courage with caution. She wasn't afraid to fly anything, she decided, as she looked longingly at a photograph of the experimental Phaeton.

"You're going to let me fly that?" She beamed at him, and he nodded. "Wow! How about right now? Forget the press, let's go fly." She beamed at him happily, and suddenly all her earlier concerns and hesitations were forgotten.

He laughed. He loved the way she looked, and Nancy had let him know as he came in that Ca.s.sie had been completely cooperative with her. He was very pleased with both of them. This was the best publicity plan he had ever had, and he knew it. "Never forget the press, Ca.s.sie. They can make or break your business. Or mine at any rate. We want to be very nice to them. Always." He looked at her pointedly, and she nodded, still feeling completely in awe of him. He was wearing an impeccably cut dark blue double-breasted suit, and brilliantly s.h.i.+ned handmade black shoes. His blond hair was perfectly combed and everything about him was starched, ironed to perfection, and spotless. He was the most beautifully groomed man she had ever seen. And she watched him with utter fascination. Everything about him was calculated and preconceived, thought out to the nth degree. But she was too young to understand that. What she saw was the finished product, what he wanted her to see. And that was what he wanted to teach her, to show the world just exactly the face he wanted. The smiling, sunny, small-town girl, who flew better than any man, and dared everything, and then came tumbling out of the c.o.c.kpit with a big grin, and a shock of perfectly combed red hair. She was going to have every man in the country in love with her in six months, if it even took that long, and she was going to be every woman's idol. In order to do that, she had to behave perfectly, look spectacular, and fly planes that made the toughest pilots tremble. He had studied everyone else's mistakes, and he didn't intend to make any of the same ones. Desmond Williams was not going to fail, nor was Ca.s.sie, if he had any control over her at all. She was going to become the biggest name the country had ever seen. He was going to completely create her. And in her own small way, just by making her comfortable and keeping an eye on her, Nancy Firestone was going to help him. He wasn't going to have all his dreams shot down, by having Ca.s.sie get drunk, or swear at someone, or look like h.e.l.l after a long flight or get involved with some b.u.m. She was going to have to be perfect.

"Ready for the big time?" he smiled at her. She looked fine, better than that actually, but he could still see room for improvement. She had her own remarkable looks, but the suit was a little too big for her, and later Nancy would have to arrange for alterations. She was just a fraction thinner than he'd remembered, and her looks were stronger. She needed something just a little more glamorous, a little bit younger. And he hadn't realized when he'd met her in Good Hope that she had such a spectacular figure. He wanted to play to that without cheapening her, or even approaching the vulgar. But there was a look he wanted to achieve, and they were not quite there yet. But for a first run... she was doing fine.

And she did far better than he had expected at the press conference, in the large conference room next to his office.

Twenty members of the press had been handpicked by him, the impressionable ones. The men who liked girls a little too much, the women. None of the great cynics. And then he introduced her. She came in looking frightened and a little pale, and feeling a little strange in her new clothes and bright red lipstick. But she looked terrific in her new haircut and the green suit. And her natural good looks and warm nature sparkled.

She enchanted them. He had given them the information about the air show, and she was very humble about it. She explained that she had hung around her father's airport all her life, working on engines and fueling planes.

"I spent most of my childhood covered with grease. I only found out I had red hair when I got here," she quipped, and they loved her. She had an easy style, and once she got used to them, she treated them like old friends, and they loved it. Desmond Williams was so ecstatic he couldn't stop grinning.

In the end, he had to tear her away. They'd have sat with her all night, listening to her stories. She had even told them about her father not wanting her to fly, and only convincing him after the night she flew in the snowstorm with Nick, to rescue the wounded at the train wreck.

"What did you fly, Miss O'Malley?"

"An old Handley of my father's." There was an appreciative look from the knowledgeable members of the crowd. It was a hard plane to fly. But they knew she had to be good, or Williams wouldn't have brought her out here.

By the time she left them, they were calling her Ca.s.sie. She was totally unpretentious and completely ingenuous. And when she made the front page of the LA Times the next day, the picture of her was sensational, and the story told of a redheaded bombsh.e.l.l that was about to hit LA and take the world by storm. They might as well have written a banner headline that said, WE LOVE YOU, Ca.s.sIE! WE LOVE YOU, Ca.s.sIE! because it was obvious that they did. The campaign had begun. And from then on, Desmond Williams kept her very busy. because it was obvious that they did. The campaign had begun. And from then on, Desmond Williams kept her very busy.

Her second day in LA, Ca.s.sie "visited" all his planes, and of course the press was there, and so were the Movietone people for a newsreel.

When the newsreel was released, her mother took all her sisters and their children to see it. Ca.s.sie wanted Nick and her father to see it too, but all she got was a postcard from Nick that said, "We miss you, Skygirl!" which annoyed her. She knew what she looked like in the newsreel, in the uniform she had to wear, but she knew he had to be impressed by their planes too. They were nothing short of fantastic.

Her first flights were in the Phaeton they were working on, and then the Statlifter he had shown her. After that, he let her fly a high-alt.i.tude plane he was working on, to take extensive notes for their designers. She had gone to forty-six thousand feet, and it was the first time she'd ever had to use an oxygen mask, or an electrically heated flight suit. But she had been able to gather some very important information. Their goal was to convert the plane into a high-level bomber for the Army. It was hard work. And she scared herself once or twice, but she impressed the h.e.l.l out of Desmond Williams. His engineers and one of his pilots had gone up with her, and they had described her flying as better than Lindbergh's. She was prettier too, one of them had pointed out. But that much Williams knew. What he was pleased to hear was that her flying skill was beyond expectation.

She set an alt.i.tude record her second week there and a speed record in the Phaeton three days later. Both were verified by the FAI and they were official. These were the planes she had always dreamed of.

The only thing that slowed her down was the constant press conferences and the photographs and the news-reels. They were incredibly tedious, and sometimes the press really got in her way. She'd been in Los Angeles for three weeks by then, and the press were already starting to follow her everywhere she went. She was becoming news. And although she tried to be pleasant to them, sometimes it really annoyed her. She had almost run over one of them the day before on takeoff.

"Can't you keep them off the runway for chrissake?" she shouted from the c.o.c.kpit before takeoff. She didn't want to hurt anyone and they'd frightened her by getting so close to the plane. But the men on the ground only shrugged. They were getting used to it. There was a frenzy about her like none they had ever seen. Items were printed about her constantly, and photographs. The public ate her up, and Desmond Williams kept feeding them exactly what they wanted. Just enough of her to excite them and keep the love affair alive, but never so much that they tired of her. It was a fine art, and he was brilliant at it. And Nancy Firestone was feeding him all the little personal details they needed. And she continued to be a huge help to Ca.s.sie.

She was scheduled to do a commercial for a breakfast cereal for kids, and an ad for her favorite magazine, and when Nick saw it at the airport one day, he tossed it in the garbage. He was furious and railed at her father.

"How can you let her do that? What is she doing, selling breakfast cereal, or flying?"

"Looks like both to me." He didn't really mind. He didn't think women belonged in serious aviation anyway. "Her mother loves it."

"When does she find time to fly?" Nick groused at him, and Pat grinned.

"I wouldn't know, Stick. Why don't you fly out and ask her?" Fat was surprisingly calm about all of it, now that she was out in California. The only thing he was sorry about was that she didn't have time to go to school, but she was flying some d.a.m.n gorgeous airplanes. And he couldn't help being proud of her, though he never actually said it.

Nick had thought of flying out to see her several times, but he hadn't had time to get away. With Ca.s.sie gone, he seemed to be doing more flying than ever, in spite of the useful presence of Billy Nolan. But business was booming at O'Malley's. And Fat recognized more than anyone that his daughter's sudden stardom probably hadn't hurt them. The reporters had turned up there a few times too, but there wasn't much fodder for them, and after a few photographs, and a shot of the house where she'd grown up, the wire-service guys had gone back to Chicago.

Ca.s.sie's life on the West Coast seemed to move even faster than her planes. She could hardly keep up with herself, between test flights, and short runs to check out new instruments on planes, and meetings with engineers to explain their aerodynamics to her. She had gone to a few development meetings too, to better understand what direction Williams Aircraft was striving for, and Desmond himself couldn't believe the extent of her involvement. She wanted to know everything there was to know about his planes. He was flattered and impressed, and he was enormously proud of his good judgment. He had inherited an empire, which he had doubled in size in an incredibly short timespan. At thirty-four, he was one of the richest men in the country, if not the world, and he could have had or done almost anything he wanted. He had been married twice, and divorced both times, had no children, and the only thing he cared about, or loved with any pa.s.sion at all, was his business. People came and went in his life, and there was always plenty of talk about his women, but the only thing that mattered to him were his planes, and being at the very top of the aviation business. And for the moment, Ca.s.sie O'Malley was helping him get what he wanted.

He loved Ca.s.sie's remarkable understanding about planes, and her naive but clear perceptions about his business. She wasn't afraid to express herself, or even, when necessary, to confront him. He liked seeing her at meetings, liked the fact that she cared enough to be there. He was thrilled with the flying records she'd set too. She dared almost anything, within reason. The only thing she seemed hesitant about, and often balked at going to, were the social events, which he insisted were critical, and Ca.s.sie thought were nonsense.