Love by Design

by Christine Johnson

  She turned away and began slapping down the papers again. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “All right.” He didn’t want to talk about the crash, either. “Maybe you’d be interested to know that the governor in Alaska ordered airplanes to take half of the second batch of diphtheria serum to Nome. The other half will go by dogsled.”

  Her tension eased a little. “Do they think the planes will get there?”

  “Some do, but it’ll depend on the weather.”

  “You mean there can’t be any storms or fog or snow.”

  “Or too much wind,” he added. “Then if it’s too cold, the engine might not start.”

  She nodded, determination setting in. “Then we need to get to work and get the new engine running properly. That’s the answer, not just for the polar expedition, but for emergencies like this diphtheria outbreak. Lives depend on it.”

  There was the passion Dan hadn’t seen in her when she declared she was going to nursing school. If only he could make her see that her dreams didn’t have to die. She might have to adapt a little, but nursing school wasn’t the way.

  “We could use your help,” he said softly.

  She looked at him, her hazel eyes luminous in the electrical lighting. Dreams battled duty. He watched it play out on her face. How could he make her see?

  “You have a knack for figuring out problems.” He swallowed that part of him that didn’t want to admit a gal knew more than he did. “You were right about the left engine. Hendrick Simmons confirmed the cowling was off just enough to lower the running temperature.”

  For a moment, she looked pleased. Then she set her jaw. “All the more reason to go into the nursing program.”

  * * *

  The connection was obvious. Jen could never craft a place for herself in aviation without bringing something unique to the table. Until this moment, she’d only been considering the dream she and Daddy had shared. Etching their names in the record book would secure his legacy and her career. Maybe there was another way. Maybe flying could do more than thrill crowds and draw fame. Maybe it could accomplish something worthwhile.

  Painful as it was to admit, she had Dan Wagner to thank for that. His initial enthusiasm for running an airmail route to remote Montana melded with the diphtheria outbreak and nursing school to add up to a breathtaking new direction.

  “Are you sure?” Dan looked skeptical. “Nursing is hard work. You won’t have time to learn to fly.”

  “I will train on my time off.” She paced across the room and back again. “There must be breaks to go home. The college students I know come home often.”

  “You’re attending college?”

  She shook her head. “A hospital nursing program. If they accept me.”

  “I’m sure they will. You strike me as someone who excelled in her studies.”

  All except advanced mathematics. “If accepted, I will start on the second of March. That means I should get a break in June or July. That’ll be a perfect time to learn to fly.”

  “Isn’t June when they plan to make the polar attempt?”

  “Yes, but Darcy isn’t going, and her baby is due in April. By June, she’ll be ready to teach again.”

  He had returned to his jaunty perch on the corner of the table, as if sitting atop a corral fence. He’d taken his cowboy hat off, and a wavy lock of his auburn hair stuck up just enough that she wanted to smooth it down.

  She shook herself. Where had that come from? She might be feeling a little generous toward Wagner since he’d given her the idea that saved her dream, but that didn’t mean she was going to swoon over the man simply because he was handsome and famous.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” he said with the engaging grin that dimpled his chin.

  “Not for a dollar.”

  He laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “Are you saying I’m closemouthed?”

  He held up his hands in surrender, though that grin stayed in place. “Not at all. I can always count on you to speak your mind—when you want to.”

  She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not. “All right. You win. Here’s what I was thinking.” Not about his dimple or wavy hair, but about what was really important. “You plan to run an airmail route.”

  “Yes?” He clearly wasn’t making the connection.

  “You said that you can bring both mail and supplies to people who don’t have much contact with the outside world.”

  “I did, but why are you thinking about that?”

  “Don’t you see? Consider that doctor in Nome. He needed medicine. So might the people on your airmail route.”

  He nodded. “That’s possible.”

  “They might also need a nurse.”

  She saw the exact moment he understood what she was saying.

  His eyes widened and then narrowed. His brow furrowed, and the grin turned to a scowl. “If they’re ailing, they’ll need a doctor, not a nurse.”

  Jen could have snapped out a retort over that assumption, but it wouldn’t further her cause. She took a breath. “Maybe there isn’t a doctor available. Maybe a nurse can do the job.”

  “A nurse is not a doctor.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts. No anything. I know what you’re getting at, Miss Jen, and I’m not carting you around on an airmail route.”

  “But you could use a copilot,” she pointed out, “and if I get my flight license and my nursing certificate, I can prove doubly useful.”

  “No.” He stood and plopped the hat on his head. “This is not a partnership proposition. You live here. I live in Montana. This would never work.”

  “I can move to Montana. Mother and Ruthie are moving to New York anyway. If they can make a fresh start, so can I.”

  “No. Period. I can’t afford to take on a partner, and there’s no place for you to stay.”

  “Maybe your family would let me stay on the ranch. I could sleep in the barn.”

  He looked as if she’d just suggested she move into a speakeasy. “No.”

  “I’m not asking you to make a decision now. The nursing program will take two years. Just keep it in mind as a possibility.”

  The icy wall that had risen between them melted just a bit. “Guess anything could happen in two years.”

  She suspected that meant he was dismissing her idea out of hand, but Jen Fox did not give up that easily. “I will find you, Dan Wagner. You can count on that.”

  He laughed, and the last of the cold wall fell away. “That’s what I like about you. Once you get hold of an idea, you never let go.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  His blue eyes twinkled. “I don’t suppose you’d care to spell out that idea of yours to potential expedition subscribers.”

  Now he’d lost her. “What do you mean?”

  “Fame and glory are a powerful draw for some men, but others like to know that the money they’re investing is going to a cause that is, shall we say, a little more philanthropic. This expedition could not only set a record, but it could open the way for safer aviation in bitter weather. That means commercial—and philanthropic—possibilities. Your idea of bringing medical care to remote communities is something they could sink their teeth into. With your enthusiasm, they’re bound to sign on.”

  Since Ruth’s announcement, Jen’s spirits had sunk to subterranean depths. Dan had just lifted them into the stratosphere.

  “Me? You want me to talk to expedition supporters?”

  “You would do great.”

  “When? Is Jack hosting another dinner party?” She had a tough time imagining Darcy being up to it, considering how she’d looked the last time Jen had seen her.

  “No, darling. At this Valentine’s Day ball th
at I’m expected to attend.”

  She blanched. “I’m not invited.”

  “You should have been.”

  She gazed into his eyes looking for any sign that he didn’t mean what he’d just said and found only sincerity.

  “You’re a big part of this mission,” he added. “Without your work, we would never be ready on time. I understand the first shipments should be coming in next week. Hunter’s fortunate to have you.”

  The warm glow that had begun deep inside expanded until she thought she would burst. “You’re not just saying that?”

  He laughed. “Trust me. I don’t give compliments unless they’re deserved.”

  She did trust him. She did.

  “Then you’ll attend with me?”

  With him. That sent a delicious shiver from the tips of her fingers to the bottom of her feet. He wanted her to go with him. No man had ever asked her to attend a social function. Ever. Baseball games and adolescent boys didn’t count. This was a ball, the Valentine’s Day Ball, the biggest social event of the winter.

  “Say you’ll go,” he urged.

  She could only manage a nod.

  His mouth spread into a grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes and welcomed her into a world she had only dreamed about, a world both foreign yet oddly familiar. More than a firm handshake, it was an arm around the shoulders, a “welcome to the club” kind of grin. He was glad that she’d agreed to go with him. Of all the pretty women in town, he had chosen her, Jen Fox. Fatherless, poor and soon to be displaced. As far from feminine as the jungle was from the Arctic. Short hair, badly dressed Jen Fox.

  He tipped a hand to his Stetson. “I’ll be back to help in a couple minutes. I need to touch base with Hunter.”

  Only after he left did the implications hit. Ruth was leaving, and the dress she’d promised to make for Jen wasn’t done. The ball was this Saturday, and she didn’t have a gown.

  Jen placed a telephone call to the dress shop.

  Chapter Ten

  “You must wear pearls,” Beatrice insisted.

  “No pearls. No jewelry at all.” Jen was standing firm on that point.

  It was bad enough that all three sisters insisted on helping her dress for the ball. Her bedroom was small enough with just Minnie and her. Add in Beatrice and Ruth, and there wasn’t room to breathe.

  Mother had the sense to stay downstairs with Ruth’s baby and Beattie’s little ones. The men had vanished the moment Beatrice and her husband, Blake, arrived. That much femininity in one house was apparently more than Sam and Blake could handle. Jen wished she was with them.

  Instead she had to endure the combined efforts of three sisters determined to find a swan in her ugly duckling. Beatrice attempted to slip the long string of pearls over her head. Jen ducked away.

  “They’re not real,” Beatrice said, “so don’t worry if the strand breaks.”

  “I’m not worried about losing them,” Jen insisted for the umpteenth time, “I don’t want to wear any jewelry.”

  “Your pearls aren’t real?” Minnie looked up from stitching the feather more securely to the headband. It had come off the moment Jen attempted to put the headpiece on. “I always thought they were genuine.”

  “We sold those.” Beattie sighed. “These look nearly the same and cost so much less.”

  “That’s very prudent.” Ruth’s eyes brimmed with sympathy, while her hands threaded a needle. “We don’t need nearly as much as we think we do.”

  That was just like Ruth to put a positive twist on a difficult situation. Beatrice’s husband, Blake, had racked up large gambling debts. When his father, the mayor, refused to pay them off, Blake had turned to a bunch of criminals who promised to settle the debt in exchange for Blake’s help securing a bootlegging corridor from Detroit to Chicago. When that fell through and Blake was arrested, he had testified against the gang and avoided prison. He and Beatrice had come out of the mess poorer and humbler. To cover costs, Beatrice had sold many of the expensive furnishings and jewelry they had purchased on their wedding tour. Though no one mentioned that difficult chapter, Beattie still carried the weight of shame. Wearing her necklace might be a symbolic return to her glorious past.

  “All right, I’ll wear them.” Jen reached out for the pearls.

  “Stand still,” Ruth ordered. “With the tiniest adjustment, the back will lie perfectly flat.”

  “It’s fine as is,” Jen insisted, but none of the sisters would listen to her tonight.

  Minnie held a faux pearl bracelet against the headband. “Wouldn’t this look elegant draped down like so?”

  “No!” Jen snapped. “I’ll wear Beattie’s pearls, but that’s it.”

  Minnie made a face. “You’re no judge of fashion. What do you think, Beattie?”

  Their oldest sister considered Minnie’s suggestion, delicate fingertips to her lips. Beatrice had always been the prettiest of them by far. Ruth was just as lovely but in an understated way, especially since she needed spectacles to see properly. Minnie’s blond hair was darker than Jen’s older sisters, but her petite stature and sparkling smile drew people’s attention. Jen didn’t look much like any of them. She was the only one who had inherited Daddy’s brown hair and coltish frame. Her square jaw and prominent cheekbones would never be considered beautiful or even very feminine. She was the closest Daddy had come to having a son.

  “I think the touch of pearls could work if done just so.” Beatrice demonstrated, and Minnie began to stitch them to the headband.

  “Stop,” Jen cried. “If you put even one pearl on that thing I won’t wear it.”

  “Of course you will.” Ruth snipped the thread. “There, it’s done.”

  “What a lovely gown.” Beatrice sighed.

  For the next several minutes, Jen’s sisters exclaimed over the dress.

  “It’s just an evening gown.” At Ruthie’s hurt expression, Jen added, “A stunning evening gown, mind you, fit for First Lady Grace Coolidge.”

  Her sisters stared a moment before descending into chatter again.

  Jen tapped her toe, anxious to get this over. “Are we done?”

  “Of course not,” the sisters exclaimed in unison.

  “Poor Genevieve is nervous.” Beatrice sighed. “Do you remember how to dance?”

  “First of all, I’m not nervous. Secondly, I’m not dancing.”

  “But you must,” all three sisters insisted.

  “He doesn’t dance,” Jen tried to tell them, but of course they weren’t listening.

  “Sam and I fell in love while dancing,” Ruth mused. “I stumbled, and he caught me. That’s when I knew he was the perfect man for me.”

  “He was in love with you long before that,” Minnie said.

  “Be that as it may, we are not here to reminisce.” Beatrice pulled them back on task. “We are here to ensure our dear sister creates the best possible impression for her beau.”

  “He is not my beau,” Jen insisted.

  None of them listened. Instead they descended into a debate over how to style her hair and if she should don the headband now.

  Jen had had enough. She snagged her hairbrush and tugged it through her short hair. “There.” She grabbed the headband from Minnie and pushed it onto her head. “I’m ready.”

  Beatrice gasped, hand to mouth. Ruth pulled the headband off Jen’s head.

  Minnie headed for the door. “I’m fetching the hair iron. It should be good and hot by now. I put it on the stove ages ago.”

  Jen clapped her hands to her head. “No curls. Promise me you won’t curl my hair.”

  Ruth pried her hands away. “We will make no such promise. You must look your best, and a little curl sweeping below the cheekbone will create a stunning modern look.”

  Ruth dem
onstrated, and Jen stared at her image in the mirror. That did look elegant, very much like a moving-picture actress.

  “You will look beautiful,” Ruth said, “and Mr. Wagner will fall in love.”

  “I don’t want him to fall in love. I want to convey an image of confidence so Jack can get additional subscribers for the expedition.”

  Ruth dismissed that motive. “Do you remember helping me the night of the Grange hall dance? You and Minnie arranged everything and made sure I looked my best.”

  “That was different.”

  Ruth shook her head. “It was exactly the same, and look what happened. Sam and I fell in love and married.” Her eyes misted. “It was the most important night of my life.”

  Could Jen attract Dan Wagner in the same way? She stared at her reflection. No matter how her cropped hair was arranged and how many pearls she wore, her jaw was still square and her face too plain. Daring Dan had always chosen the most beautiful women—actresses and singers, heiresses and famed adventurers. She was none of those.

  “What if something goes wrong?” she mumbled.

  “It won’t,” Ruth assured her. “You are always so confident and poised. You’ll do wonderfully.”

  “I don’t mean just tonight. What if he does like me? What then? According to what I’ve read, he doesn’t stay with anyone for very long.” Jen bit her lip. “I don’t want to end up a fool.”

  Ruth smoothed Jen’s unruly hair. “I think Mother said it best. We enjoy every minute of every day that the Lord gives us and leave the rest to Him.”

  That made sense in theory, but life was messier. Jen wasn’t sure she could handle that kind of rejection. A plane crash would be easier.

  “Smile,” Beatrice said. “Enjoy the evening, and don’t place too much importance on it. When a match is meant to be, a false step here or there won’t matter.”

  Jen blew out her breath and refocused. “It’s not that I want a match.” After all, she was still angry with him for making Jack promise not to put her in the cockpit for the polar attempt, even though it had always been unlikely. Tonight wasn’t about romance; it was about propelling the expedition forward. Dan had made that quite clear. “I just don’t want to do or say anything to hurt the expedition. Dan thinks I can help. I don’t know why, but he has a lot of faith in me.”