“Relax, Paul, and enjoy your coffee. I’d rather wait for G.P. to get here before we discuss the results of the test flight from this morning,” Millie admonished gently.
Sometimes Paul was no fun at all, just strictly business. He took his role as technical advisor seriously. They had a big job ahead of them, with what seemed like a thousand details still to be ironed out. And time wasn’t on their side if they wanted to start the flight around the world on March 17 . . . just ten days away.
16: Sunday, March 7, 1937
Outside the terminal, a dark blue 1935 Cadillac 400 series automobile pulled up and parked beside the front door. It appeared that this particular parking spot was reserved specifically for the lone occupant of this car. A tall man emerged from behind the wheel. He made his way to the front door and peered through the small window into the lounge area. He saw a group at a large table. More notably, he saw two strangers among the familiar faces.
The man opened the door, snagged a chair as he passed a table and placed it between Millie and Harry, directly across from the two newcomers. As he sat, he removed his fedora, which had been rakishly tipped over one eye.
“Great timing, G.P. We were waiting for you to join us before we went through our debriefing from this morning,” Paul said.
“First things first,” G.P. countered. “Amelia, who are these two young people?”
Grabbing G.P.’s hand, Millie began, “G.P., may I introduce Dani and Daric Delaney, the two newest members of our team. And this is George Palmer Putman, preferring to be addressed as simply G.P. He’s also my husband.”
Millie and G.P. were never ones for public displays of affection, not even a simple peck on the cheek in greeting. G.P. was a tall, slender man at six-feet-two. He was clean shaven and impeccably dressed in a double-breasted suit. His brown, wavy hair was parted just left of center and was greying slightly at the temples. Perched on his nose were a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. He carried himself confidently, projecting a commanding presence.
“Our two newest members?” G.P. repeated quizzically, standing to firmly shake hands with Daric across the table. Turning to Dani, he gently squeezed her hand. He was totally captivated by the beautiful young woman standing in front of him. Her strange attire, which revealed a substantial amount of sun-kissed skin, had him mesmerized.
“Yes,” Millie said firmly, drawing G.P. out of his trance. He abruptly dropped Dani’s hand, and the three resumed their seats. “Daric is a genius when it comes to engines and Dani can help us with the overwhelming number of travel arrangements and timetables. We have too many details that still need to be finalized if we want to get this show off the ground as planned. We could use the extra help. The best part is, they’ll work for free.”
G.P.’s brows pinched together. “Really?” he asked skeptically.
Dani, Daric, Millie and Pidge all nodded enthusiastically.
“Well then, welcome aboard,” G.P. conceded.
“Thank you.” Dani spoke softly, punctuated with an appreciative smile.
G.P. cleared his throat, then asked no one in particular, “Now that all the introductions are over, would someone bring me up to date with this morning’s test flight?”
“Aside from almost running these two down, everything went . . .” Paul started.
“What?” G.P. grimaced.
“It’s okay, G.P., no one got hurt,” Paul said, as he continued with the business at hand. “As I was saying, everything went as planned, no changes from the previous test flight results. The airplane is performing as expected. We’ll get the flight data over to Kelly so he can get started on calculating the flight procedures.”
Everyone’s head turned toward the open door as a tall, barrel-chested man in a grey pinstriped suit entered the building and made his way over to their table.
“Well, speak of the devil,” Paul observed. “We were just talking about you.”
“All good, I hope,” he quipped.
“Daric, Dani, this is Clarence “Kelly” Johnson,” Millie offered by way of introductions. “He’s Lockheed’s performance engineer. We’ve asked for his help in providing the best flight altitude, airspeed, and amount of fuel required throughout the various stages of the world flight.”
Daric stood and shook hands with Kelly.
“Nice to meet you,” Dani said. Kelly had the warmest hazel eyes Dani had ever.
“We just finished the last test flight,” Millie said wearily. “Paul will give you all the details.”
“Uh . . . it will take me a few days to analyse the data and produce the optimum performance charts,” Kelly said, expressing regret. “I know you need this as soon as possible.”
“As soon as you can, Kelly; by Thursday will be fine,” G.P. needled, conveying his expectations. “Now, I think that’s enough for today. Harry and Joe can get the airplane back into the hangar and secure her for the day.”
Millie looked at G.P., her eyes reflecting a level of exhaustion G.P. had never seen before.
“We’re going to head back to the hotel with our newest members and get them settled in. We’ll meet you guys for dinner, say, around 6:00 P.M.,” G.P. directed, while rising and pulling out Millie’s chair.
G.P., Millie, Pidge, Dani and Daric left the hangar and loaded themselves into G.P.’s beautifully appointed antique car. But then again, it was an antique only to Daric and Dani.
The Cadillac left the airport and turned right onto San Fernando Road. The sun was rising toward its zenith; it was going to be a beautiful warm spring day, which Millie was unfortunately going to miss. She had already fallen asleep in the front seat of the car as it headed back to the hotel, her head resting on G.P.’s shoulder.
“Pidge, why did Amelia introduce herself as Millie?” Dani whispered, not wanting to disturb Millie.
“Millie and Pidge are our childhood nicknames. It seems that whenever we get together, we still use them,” Pidge explained. “We grew up in a little town called Atchison, Kansas. We were inseparable; we did everything together.”
“Our mother’s name is Amy,” Pidge continued, “which could be confused with a shorter version of Amelia. So, our parents gave Amelia her nickname Millie. Being the younger sister, I always wanted to be like my big sister; so, of course, I had to have a nickname, too. They gave me Pidge. My real name is Muriel.”
“So, what are we supposed to call you now?” Daric interjected, turning his gaze from the miles of farmland to the two women beside him in the back seat.
“Come Tuesday, I’ll be on my way back to West Medford. Millie will go back to being called Amelia. So, you might as well start calling her by her proper name now. I’ve only ever called her Millie, so I’ll never change,” Pidge grinned shyly.
“Where’s West Medford?” Dani asked.
“It’s a small town just north of Boston,” Pidge provided. “Most people have never heard of it. I guess I should have just said Boston.”
The Cadillac eventually turned into the circular driveway in front of the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel. The Spanish-style hotel, built only ten years before, catered to the show business elite. Its magnificent architecture and luxury set the hospitality standard, against which other hotels were measured. Its twelve storeys made it one of the tallest buildings in the area and allowed it to overlook the famous Hollywood sign.
A valet attendant, dressed in a dark green uniform with polished brass buttons, opened the driver’s door. Gently pushing Millie off his shoulder, G.P. handed over the keys to the car upon exiting. G.P. walked around the car and opened the front passenger door. He reached in and carefully pulled Amelia into his arms.
Making his way through the opened front door, into the lobby, G.P. asked, “Pidge, could you see to our guests? Daric can bunk with Harry and if you don’t mind . . .”
“Dani can stay with me. It’ll be fun having company,” Pidge in
terrupted enthusiastically. “I’ll get the keys from the front desk. We’ll see you guys later for dinner.”
Pidge started to make her way across the highly polished marble floor to the large mahogany reception desk when a thought hit her.
“Oh, G.P., Daric and Dani need some clothes to wear. This is all they have,” Pidge said sadly.
“Some of Millie’s clothes should fit Dani,” Pidge asserted. “Do you think Harry and you could pull something together for Daric? They don’t need much.”
“We’ll work something out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to put Amelia to bed; she’s exhausted,” G.P. finished. He made his way through the thin haze of tobacco smoke hanging in the lobby and took one of the three lifts up to their suite on the twelfth floor.
17: Monday, March 8, 1937
Amelia was sitting on the large three-seater sofa in their suite, studying some maps and sipping a cup of coffee. G.P. was talking on the phone, gazing out the window onto Hollywood Boulevard and the famous sign beyond. Cars were coming into the main entrance below. From this height they looked like small die-cast Dinky toys moving non-stop along a toy factory’s conveyer belt.
The hotel suite was just over one-thousand square feet and featured chocolate and creamy white hues that created a bold yet soothing atmosphere. In front of a brown leather sofa in the separate living/dining area was an oblong, dark walnut coffee table. To the left of the sofa was a white leather tub chair in whose cushioned depths a person could get totally lost. A walnut dining table and six chairs, padded with cream-colored leather cushions, filled most of the remaining space. The bedroom was set apart from the rest of the room, behind white French doors. The king-sized bed had white custom-made linens, with a goose down duvet, and two large over-stuffed pillows. The bathroom had a combination of cream and brown marble, with a plush bathmat in front of the four-legged bathtub.
Amelia had had a good night’s sleep last night, but still looked tired to G.P. He was concerned about her. Was this world flight too much for her? After a rare heated discussion this morning and with tremendous cunning on his part, he had convinced Amelia to spend the day resting at the hotel. It was a cold, rainy, dreary day, not great for flying anyway. Besides, they had completed all the test flights. They were just waiting on the performance charts from Kelly Johnson. The airplane was being taken care of and whatever needed doing today could be done from the comfort of their hotel suite. He was confident they would meet their planned departure date.
G.P. also knew Amelia needed to get some rest. They had a very busy nine days ahead of them to complete all the remaining details, not to mention the many challenges Amelia would face over the next several weeks.
“Okay, thanks,” G.P. said, as he finished his conversation and hung up the phone.
“Who was that?” Amelia asked, looking up from the map spread out on her lap, her feet curled underneath her.
G.P. had walked over to the dining room table and poured himself another cup of coffee before he made his way to Amelia.
“That was Harry. He’s heading back to the Union Air Terminal,” G.P. replied as he sat at the end of the sofa, throwing his arm over the back.
“What on earth for?”
“He said he wanted to make sure all the maps were there and in the correct sequence.” G.P. reflected for a moment, then continued. “I know he’s a dear friend of yours, Amelia, but I’m concerned.”
“About what?”
“Remember three weeks ago, when we left Cleveland for Burbank?”
“Of course,” Amelia said.
“Harry was still practising his navigation skills, as you know. He passed you up a note saying our position was over southern Kansas when in fact we were actually over northern Oklahoma. He didn’t even have us in the right state!” G.P.’s voice slowly increased in volume and anxiety.
“G.P., relax. We were only a few miles south of the Kansas border. Harry wasn’t off by much,” Amelia assured.
“A few miles off out in the middle of the Pacific could mean the difference between life and death, Amelia,” G.P. countered. “Howland Island is a very tiny island, thousands of miles from anywhere, with no elevation or trees and practically impossible to spot from the air. He’s a sea captain, Amelia, not an aviation navigator.”
“If you remember, we were also having trouble synchronizing the propellers. The right propeller’s pitch was frozen and stuck in cruise position. I couldn’t get full power out of that engine. It may have affected Harry’s calculations, because he didn’t know I was having a problem with airspeed,” Amelia tried to defend her dear friend by redirecting blame.
“I’m still not convinced he can do this.”
“G.P., Harry is one of the few sea captains to have trained under sail. He told me he apprenticed on a four-masted American barque, which required the ultimate understanding of winds and seas. The same skills required for aircraft navigation. His years at sea have also made him an expert radio operator. And to top it off, he has his own airplane and has been flying for years,” Amelia finished confidently. She wanted Harry with her. She trusted him completely. Besides, they had made a promise to each other almost nine years ago.
A knock came at the door. “Come in, it’s open,” G.P. hollered across the living room.
Paul Mantz entered the suite, making his way to the chair. It didn’t take long for him to recognize the look of agitation on G.P.’s face. “What’s up?” Paul asked.
“We were discussing Harry’s ability, or lack thereof, to be the navigator on this flight,” G.P. spat. “Do you have any doubts, Paul?”
“Well, navigating a ship is a little different from navigating an airplane,” Paul hedged.
“We know that,” Amelia said coldly.
“Well, there’s one way to find out.” Paul made sure he had their attention.
“We could take Harry out over the sea, before sunrise, to test his ability to get us back to our point of origin using celestial navigation. Joe could test the radios at the same time,” Paul suggested. “Kill two birds with one stone.”
“Amelia, would you agree? If Harry has any problems with this exercise, we will need to rethink this,” G.P. pressed.
“Okay, let’s do it,” Amelia conceded. “Paul, can you make the arrangements for early Wednesday morning? If everything goes as planned, which I expect it will, we’ll take the plane to Oakland later that afternoon.”
“I’m on it,” Paul said as he showed himself out of their suite.
18
A knock came at the door of Harry’s room. Daric cautiously pulled open the door, only to find his anxious sister standing on the other side of the threshold.
“We need to talk,” Dani said while pushing herself past Daric into the room.
Dani was wearing a pair of Amelia’s navy trousers, belted at the waist, a pale blue blouse, and a pair of black leather dress boots, with two-inch heels. She completed her ensemble with a navy blue silk scarf tucked under her collar. Daric stared at his sister as she made her way into the room; he had to admit she looked elegant, yet practical. For cool early mornings, Amelia had also provided her with a stylish black leather bomber jacket that looked so soft it screamed out to be touched.
“Come on in, won’t you?” Daric said sarcastically.
Daric had on a crisp white shirt with a narrow smoke-black neck tie, covered with a V-neck charcoal-grey wool vest and black trousers, all supplied by Harry. G.P. had provided his black shoes and socks and had also purchased a new grey tweed Newsboy cap to finish Daric’s new 1930s look.
“Well, it’s not as if I could text, tweet, Skype or use any other media to reach you, now could I?” Dani snapped back.
Daric closed the door. He followed his sister to the two double beds and perched on the foot of the one opposite Dani. They sat facing each other in what seemed to be a childish stare-down,
until he caved. “You wanted to talk, so talk.”
“Let me see if I understand what’s happened to us, as you see it. Correct me if I’m wrong,” Dani began.
“Of course.”
“You’re trying to tell me that Dad built a time machine . . .” Daric was about to interject, when Dani, holding up her hands, stifled him and quickly corrected herself, “. . . bands.”
Daric grinned shyly in acknowledgement, encouraging Dani to continue.
“And then you said we put the bands on in Dad’s lab and bam, we magically appear here and that here is somewhere between late 1936 and early 1937,” Dani finished.
“Yup, that’s what I said, but without the ‘bam’.” Daric tried to lighten the mood; his sister was very edgy.
“But, now I know we’re in 1937; March 1937 to be exact. A few days before Amelia attempts her world flight,” Daric said, suddenly serious.
“How did you figure that?” Dani was stunned by Daric’s computation.
“We both know Amelia hasn’t left on her world flight yet. Her first attempt at her world flight started on March 17, 1937. Her second attempt was made on May 20 of that same year,” Daric continued with his deduction. “So, today’s date is sometime before March 17. But, I haven’t been able to narrow it down.”
“Today is actually Monday, March 8th,” Dani announced.
“How on earth did you come up with that?”
“I caught the date on the front page of yesterday’s newspaper I saw on the counter at the terminal,” Dani admitted. “But why here and why this time period?” she wondered.
“I don’t know,” Daric replied thoughtfully.
“And what actually caused us to travel in time? You put the travel band on your wrist first and nothing happened to you.”
“I don’t know!” Daric barked. He had just as many questions that needed answering and he was just as frustrated and scared, but he sure as hell didn’t want to let his sister know. So he reverted to one of his old techniques—striking out.
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