Danielle Steel - Wings

“I wouldn't call all that boring… safaris… India … Bangkok.… It's certainly a long way from Illinois, where I come from. I'm the fourth of five children, and I've spent my whole life living on an airport, and I have sixteen nieces and nephews. You don't get much more mundane than that. I'm the first member of my family to go to college, the first woman to fly a plane, the first person to move away, although my father and mother came out from New York, and from Ireland before that. But it's awfully ordinary, and not in the least glamorous or exciting.”

“You're glamorous now, Cass,” he said quietly, watching her. He always seemed interested in her reactions.

“I don't think I am. I know I'm still the girl in the overalls, with grease all over her face.”

“What other people see is very different.”

“Maybe I just don't understand that.”

“You couldn't say we have an awful lot in common,” he said thoughtfully, “but sometimes that works,” he said pensively. “Actually, I'm not sure anymore what works. It's been so long since I even tried to figure it out, I can't remember.” She smiled, and suddenly she felt as though she were being interviewed, but she wasn't sure for what position. “What about you, Cass? Why is it exactly that at the ripe old age of twenty-one and two days, you're not married?” He was only half teasing. He wanted to know just how free she was. He had never been quite sure, although she didn't seem to be too tied to anyone, except maybe the RAF pilot in England.

“No one wants me,” she explained easily and he laughed, and so did she. She was surprisingly comfortable with him.

“Try again.” He lay back on the sand, looking at her, completely amused by her, and very relaxed in her unaffected presence. “Tell me something I'll believe.” She was far too beautiful for no one to want her.

“I mean it. Boys my age are terrified by women pilots. Unless they fly themselves, and then the last thing they want is competition from another pilot.”

“And what about boys my age?” he asked cautiously, as she remembered that he was four years younger than Nick, who was thirty-nine now.

“They seem to get upset about the difference in age. At least some of them do, the ones say… four years older than you are.”

“I see. They think you're immature?” But she wasn't that either.

“No, they think they're too old, but haven't come far enough in life and have nothing to offer me. They fly away to England and tell me to go play with kids my own age. No promises. No hope.”

“I see. And do you play with boys your own age?” He was intrigued by her story. He wondered immediately if it was her father's partner at the airport, but he didn't ask her. He assumed it was, after the way the fellow had tried to protect her from him that first day at the airport.

“No,” she said honestly. “I haven't had time for any boys of any age. I've been too busy flying for you, and going to all the social events you think are important.” She also didn't want to be involved with anyone. She was too much in love with Nick to care about someone else, but she didn't say that.

“Social events are important, Cassie.”

“Not to me,” she smiled.

“You can't be easy to please, Miss Cassie O'Malley.

You've been out five nights a week with a different man each night for close to a year now. And no one has struck your fancy?”

“I guess not. Too busy, no time, no interest. They all bore me.” She didn't bother telling him that most of them were male models, or less than masculine actors. Not that it made a difference to her.

“You're spoiled.” He wagged a finger at her, and she laughed at him.

“If I am, it's all your fault. Look what you've done for me, apartments, clothes, all the planes I could ever want to fly, including a diamond one”— she smiled gratefully, she had written him a thank-you note only that morning—” cars… hotels… fancy restaurants… who wouldn't be spoiled after all that?”

“You,” he said simply, telling the truth, and then he pulled her to her feet and they walked further down the beach in their bare feet telling each other silly stories. They had dinner at a little Mexican restaurant near her apartment, and he told her the food was terrible, but she loved it, and then he took her home and promised to call her the next morning.

“I go to work at four,” she said, “I won't be here.”

“So do I,” he smiled, “we must both work for the same tyrant. I'll call you at three-thirty.” She was surprised when he did. He was the oddest person. And so lonely. His stories of his childhood made her heart ache. It was no wonder he had never loved anyone, no one had ever loved him. It made her want to protect him, and undo it all, and yet at the same time he was always doing things for her. He was an unusual combination of warm and cold, invulnerable, and deeply wounded.

He picked her up at the airport that afternoon, and drove her home, but he didn't come in. And from then on, he called her every day, and took her to dinner several times a week in quiet places. He never did anything more than that, and Cassie never felt they were more than friends, but within a short time they were very good ones. He had never mentioned the world tour again, but she thought of it sometimes when she flew, and all of Nick's warnings. She thought he was crazy to have been so worried. Desmond had no desire to do anything that would harm her or push her. He wanted only the best for her. She was sure of that. More than anything, he was her friend now. He turned up at the oddest times, as she climbed out of a plane, or left for work at four in the morning. He was there for her, if she needed him, he never intruded on her, or asked for more than she wanted to give. He seemed to want so little from her, and yet she always sensed his presence.

He brought her new contract to her himself at the end of June, and this time she was amazed at what she saw in it. Most of the terms were the same, except that some of the social events were optional, and the money was doubled. He promised to let her test all their best planes, and wanted her to guarantee that she would do a minimum number of commercials per year. But then the last clause in the contract was the one that stunned her. It stated that for an additional hundred and fifty thousand dollars, plus any additional fees and benefits that accrued from it, he was offering her a world tour within the year, in the best plane they had, on the safest route that could be devised, to be embarked on, on the second of July 1941, almost exactly a year from then, on the anniversary of the day Amelia Earhart disappeared four years before. It was to be the publicity tour of all time, and she would undoubtedly set new records. The prospect of it was enormously tempting, but she thought she ought to discuss it with her father. She was going home that week anyway, for the air show.

“Do you think hell disapprove?” Desmond asked her nervously before she left, looking like a boy who was terrified someone would take his favorite toy from him. And she smiled and tried to reassure him.

“I don't think so. He may think it's dangerous, but if you think it could be done safely, I believe you,” He had never lied to her, never cheated her, never fooled her. He had never disappointed her as a friend, or as an employer. And they spent a great deal of time together. Theirs was a strange relationship for a girl her age, and a man his, it was based only on business and friendship. Nothing more. He had never even tried to kiss her and yet he had wanted to know that she was free. And he had relaxed visibly when he heard she was, with the exception of Nick, who hadn't written to her in months. She knew how violently he would have disapproved of this contract. “My father is pretty reasonable,” she reassured him.