Finette joined her friend in the cockpit. “Reporting for duty.”
Sitting in the captain’s chair, Addie gestured to the panel below the wide windshield. “Make sure the gauge settings are within the normal range.”
Lifting gas full—check. Steam engines operational—check. Compass working—check. “All normal.” Their previous journeys normally didn’t span an entire day, so Finette would have to keep an eye on them.
“Good. Later, I’ll need you to take over the wheel so I can shovel more coal for the steam engines.”
“I can do that for you.” Captains weren’t supposed to do menial work, though when short-handed as Addie was, they did whatever task was needed.
Addie smiled over at her. “You’ve already logged a good amount of flight hours on my aeroplane.”
“Thanks to your expert tutelage.” Addie had taken Finette under her wing like a mother bird, training her to fly.
“You need to train on an airship. Someday you’ll be piloting your own.” Addie said it as if it were a known fact.
“Maybe.” And maybe Finette shouldn’t have come along today. Flying normally took away her cares. Today, it only drove home her failure.
She’d never be a famous pilot like Addie Browning. The woman was only nine years older than Finette, for goodness sakes, and had accomplished so much.
“No maybe about it.” Addie had grown stern. “You do what it takes to make your dream happen.”
“You’re right.” How could Finette argue with a woman who’d forged her success from almost nothing? Before the American President Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation, Addie’s parents had lived as slaves in Tennessee to a white man who recognized the mechanical genius of Addie’s father. During the Civil War, Southern generals had called upon Mr. Browning to repair steam-powered cannons, the war ships for both sea and air. After the war, Addie learned basic steam mechanics from him, but best of all, learned how to fly. She’d built her own airship, and now operated a successful international freight business.
Just as Finette wanted to do. But she’d be twenty-one years old in February, with nothing to show for her efforts.
“I would have won that race.” Finette shook her head. “Oh, who am I kidding? I’ll never even have a decent pilot’s uniform, let alone an airship of my own.”
Addie scowled. “Of course you will. And you’ll win the next race.”
Her friend spoke with such conviction, Finette could see herself holding the trophy.
What would Finette do without Addie’s friendship? “You’re a dear to me.”
Piloting the airship over a mountain peak, Addie asked, “Who caught your eye at the tournament?”
“What?”
Addie pursed her lips and shot her a you-can’t-fool-me look. “You’ve never worried about your clothes before. Did you meet someone?”
A laugh burst out. “Yes. A gypsy, servant to the Romanian prince.”
“A servant?” Addie scrunched up her face. “Girl, you need to aim your sights higher. For the prince.”
“This man’s more handsome. He has the most amazing blue eyes. He’s kind, and generous, and so smart. And…” She heard herself oozing uncontrollably, and grabbed her head. “Listen to me, prattling on. I think the gypsy put a spell on me.”
Her friend laughed. “What?”
She tapped her forehead. “He has taken up residence here, in my mind. I cannot rid myself of the image of him or the sound of his voice. When he touched me….” A shudder overtook her, and she rubbed her arms.
“He touched you?” Surprise added a lilt to Addie’s tone.
“Only to kiss my hand.” Thank goodness she had Addie to confide in. “But I didn’t want him to stop.”
Her friend nodded knowingly. “I see. Sounds like he had a certain charm, all right.”
Finette grabbed the edge of her seat. “Have you heard of such things in your travels? Voodoo, or whatever gypsies might use to mesmerize people?”
“Darlin’, I believe the spell you’re under is much more powerful.”
Dread iced her skin. “Oh no,” she whispered. “What is it?”
Addie’s brown eyes pinned her. “Love. Or something more temporary.”
She waved her off. “Pshaw. Love has nothing to do with it. I spoke with him for five minutes.”
“Lives change in less than five minutes sometimes.”
Something about the wistful way Addie said it made Finette sad to think of what happened to her family. No one should endure the pain of slavery. And marriage was little better than slavery.
Abruptly, Addie stood. “Take over for a minute.”
“Really?” She jumped up to grab the wheel and her heart leapt in tandem. “Aye aye.”
“I have something you might be able to use.” Addie strode out of the cockpit and returned carrying a long, flat box, which she pressed into Finette’s arms. “For you.”
“What’s this?”
Addie gestured. “Open it and find out.”
After setting the box gently on the floor, Finette lifted the lid. Inside sat a violet wool jacket with tan embroidered plackets at the wrists, a tan silk blouse with purple embroidery on the collar and sleeves, and matching violet blouson slacks, almost too beautiful to touch. “I couldn’t.” Though she couldn’t help imagining herself wearing them, how her auburn hair would complement the violet.
“Why not? They’re too small for me.” Addie patted her thighs. “I’m not starving myself just so I can look good while I fly.”
“You are too generous.” Fearing she might cry again, Finette rose and threw her arms around Addie’s neck as she steered from the captain’s chair. “How can I ever repay you?”
“By becoming a better pilot than me.” With a pat on her back, Addie drew away. “And you will.”
Finette didn’t know what to say, so she nodded. The first step toward that goal was to be a good student. She’d flown with Addie a dozen times, but never seriously focused on the necessary steps of flight. That would change, beginning this very moment.
She plopped onto the first mate’s seat and checked the gauges. The needle indicating steam pressure had dropped slightly. “Shall I go fill the coal burner?”
Addie studied the control. “In about two hours. If you do it too soon, you’ll run back and forth unnecessarily. Figure out in advance how often you’ll need to perform specific tasks. That way, you’ll use your time more wisely, without depleting your own energy.”
“Noted.”
“Speaking of which… my energy level’s sagging. Would you mind bringing me some coffee? I started a pot in the galley.”
“Coffee it is.” After leaving the cabin, she walked across the open metal catwalk above the freight storage area and headed toward the rear, where the galley sat adjacent to the engine room. Girl genius that she was, Addie had installed a pipe to divert steam from the engine for cooking. Atop the small stove, a coffee pot percolated, sending up wafts of the delicious aroma. Ahh, coffee. The sustenance of life.
From the cabinet, Finette pulled Addie’s favorite cup of hammered tin, given to her by a Moroccan tradesman who fancied her. Too bad Addie had favored the ornate cups more than the man, but then, he was one of many who’d showered Addie with gifts to try to win her heart.
In tasting the coffee, Finette detected a delicate spice. Where had Addie been these past few months?
After returning to the cockpit, Finette posed the question to her friend. “This brew is wonderful. Where did you get it?”
“In a little town on the coast of Italy. You should see this place. Colorful houses set in the hills overlooking the sea, narrow cobbled streets with prettiest cottages. Oh, and the food—delizioso.” She kissed her fingertips with an appreciative smack.
Finette sighed. “You’re so lucky to travel the world.”
“Someday you’ll be sharing your adventures with me.”
“Now tell me the story behind the pilot’s outfit. Who did you charm i
nto falling in love with you?”
Addie’s hearty laugh filled the cabin. “I wouldn’t say love. More along the lines of an intense like. The sheik has plenty of women to keep him occupied.”
“A sheik?” Finette’s mouth dropped open in delight. She couldn’t wait to hear more. “And he wanted to add you to his harem?”
“He knew better than to ask. I don’t care how many trinkets he tosses at me, no man’s going to ensnare me.”
“Nor me.” Sacha’s wolfish smile popped into her head, and heat shivered through her.
“You sure about that?” Addie teased.
“Absolutement.” Finette was in no hurry to offer herself to any man.
“Not even a handsome Romanian with a very pretty… key?”
She feigned nonchalance. “I wouldn’t mind spending more time with him.” He wouldn’t have to bribe her with trinkets to get her attention, either. “But I don’t want to marry anyone. That would be worse than any cage.”
“A gilded one, but still a cage.” Addie gave her a quick once-over. “So you have no plans to see him again?”
She shrugged. “He’s entering the British Diamond Cup. He said I should enter, too.”
“He’s a smart man.”
Despair ruined her mood. “That race is for full-sized airships, not models.”
Addie gave a grunt of acknowledgment. “When is it scheduled?”
“August. Less than two months from now.” Only a miracle could change her circumstances that fast.
***
When the steam-powered brougham headed toward the Proulx residence to return Finette home, the sun had long ago sunk below the horizon. From the airship cockpit, it had been a spectacular display above Paris.
Her wistful sigh became a gasp at the sight of a familiar figure slumped against a gas streetlight post.
“Stop,” Finette called, and hurried outside. “Corvin? Are you all right?”
The blond-haired man raised his head and gave her an angelic smile. “Finnie, love.” The two words slurred into one, and his breath reeked of whiskey. So did his clothes, damp with sweat.
She braced herself against his side and looped his arm around her shoulder. “Let me take you home.”
“If you intend to destroy my honor…” His head wobbled as he bent double with laughter. “Too late,” he wheezed.
“Try to walk, Corrie. Please.” His weight had become crushing, and she could barely hold him up.
His legs seemed of rubber, unable to support him. Together, they managed to stumble to the carriage, and with great effort, she pushed him inside. He sprawled along a bench.
She slid beneath him and cradled his head in her lap. “You poor thing. What’s wrong?”
“Oh Finnie, I’m in love.”
She stroked his damp hair. “Not again.”
“Oui. He swears he loves me, too.” His lip curled. “But he’s married. We can never be together.”
“You need a wife who will allow you your liaisons.”
He gazed up at her. “Will you marry me, Finnie? We’d get along very well.”
They always had, as friends. “Would you let me fly?” she joked.
“Of course. What do you say?” He appeared to sober.
The carriage lurched to a stop.
Just in time. She slipped from beneath him. “I’m not ready for marriage. Maybe someday.”
Corvin sat up. “Consider my proposal. I’m serious.”
“You’re drunk.” She opened the door so he’d get out before he emptied his stomach on Addie’s carriage floor.
He blocked the door, swaying nearer. “You could reform me.”
A laugh burst out. “No thank you.” She guided him through the door, then scrambled out to catch him before he hit the ground.
He turned his bleary eyes to her. “I’ve loved you since we were children.”
“Like a brother. And I love you, too.” Her laugh vanished as she glanced at the mansion. “Oh dear.”
Corvin slung an arm around her neck. “I’d rescue you from that witch.” He limply gestured to the tall windows.
In the ridiculously large front parlor, Jacalyn sat on the settee. The twins sat on either side of their mother. Precise as an automaton, Papa paced in front of the fireplace.
Surely they couldn’t all be waiting for her. She tugged Corvin past the scene. “I assume you’re staying with your grandparents?” She used to love when he visited their house, which sat beside her father’s.
He grunted something like yes, so she labored to deposit him inside the equally grand home. “Feel better.” She rushed back to her own door. Quietly, Finette crossed the threshold, and the latch barely clicked shut.
Jacalyn’s startled call echoed in the foyer. “Who’s there?”
Finette gave an inward groan. “Just me.” She stepped under the open archway, which always made her feel like a child again. The sparse furniture crowded near the fireplace only served to give the room a disproportionate atmosphere, threatening to swallow them all up.
Her stepmother rose from the settee, then fell back again, a hand draped dramatically across her forehead. A pretend faint if Finette ever saw one.
Papa rushed to his wife. Patting her hand, he barked at Finette with a bulldog face, “Where have you been?”
With their arched brows and lips pursed into tight bows, Daisy and Celine were a matched set. Oh, how Finette hated their identical smugness. Their twin nastiness.
Finette clutched the box to her. “I… I was Addie’s first mate today on an urgent delivery to Luxembourg.” From their angry expressions, she’d failed to impress them. “I’m sorry if I worried you.”
“Worried?” Her father’s eyes bulged. “I was worried at lunchtime. I grew frantic through the afternoon, and was about to summon the Honfleur police to organize a search party for you.”
She shook her head in confusion. “Papa.” This wasn’t the first time Finette had left unannounced. He normally didn’t react this way. Someone must have provoked him. “What’s wrong?”
He raked his fingers through his thinning hair. “Wrong? Everything’s wrong.”
Jacalyn’s slackened features sharpened. “Certainly not everything.” Her stepmother must have remembered she was supposed to be lightheaded from worry, and with a moan, began fanning herself. “Your father and I have agreed it’s time to dismiss several workers from the factory.”
“What?” Papa would never agree to such a thing.
“We simply haven’t had enough orders.” Papa sounded defeated. “If business doesn’t pick up before the end of the year, I’ll be forced to shut down.”
“No.” The failure rested on Finette’s shoulders. She’d designed much of what her father’s factory produced.
Jacalyn sipped from her china cup, and the delicate clink when it hit the saucer echoed loudly in the tense atmosphere. “The family cannot continue to shoulder the financial burden of young ladies who refuse to grow up. The race yesterday was a clear example of your immaturity.”
Because she’d lost? Regardless, Finette had to help her father somehow. “I’ll make more jewelry. More automaton gadgets. More models.”
“Trinkets.” Her stepmother harrumphed. “Do you think those will pay our debts?”
Finette bit her lip. She’d made a pretty penny selling a few to save up for the race’s entry fee. Perhaps if Jacalyn hadn’t forced Papa to buy the largest house in town, and didn’t insist on custom-made gowns of imported fabric or ridiculously lavish parties, the family might not be in deep debt.
Jacalyn continued her tirade. “Of course, you never listen to me. If you’d create something useful for a change, we could have avoided this predicament.”
“People love our mechanicals,” Finette argued. “The singing birds—”
“Singing birds?” Her stepmother huffed. “What use are they? You completely ignored my suggestion to create an automaton nanny, something that will respond to the cries of a hungry or soiled baby.
Mothers everywhere would line up to buy them so they can get some relief from squawking children.”
Finette pressed her lips together to keep from screaming. Never. She would never design such a cold being to replace the warmth of a mother’s love. But then, Jacalyn knew nothing of love, maternal or otherwise.
Papa stared at nothing with glazed eyes. “Perhaps more orders will come into the factory soon.”
Finette wished she could erase his worry. “Of course they will.” She’d find a way.
With an exaggerated sigh, Jacalyn rolled her eyes. “Yes, and perhaps a fairy godmother will wave her wand and magically save us all. Don’t put more foolish notions in your daughter’s head, Remy.”
Jacalyn always said his name with such scorn. Finette hated it. Could her stepmother show no love to her own husband?
Once they saw Addie’s gift, they’d understand. “Addie has been training me. She says I’ll be a good airship captain. I even have the right outfit now.” She fumbled the box open. “See?”
Daisy knocked the package to the floor. “A costume doesn’t make you a captain.”
Celine grabbed the silk shirt and held it against herself. “Look at me, I’m a pilot.”
Daisy pressed the slacks to her waist. “No, I am.”
Before they could ruin her jacket, Finette snatched it up, then grasped for the blouse. “Give those back.”
Daisy and Celine tossed the shirt and pants to one another, and pranced around Finette, laughing and chanting, “I’m a pilot.”
When they switched again, Finette grabbed hold and pulled. At the tear of fabric, a sick feeling swept over her and she released her hold. The shredded garments fluttered to the floor. Holding back a sob, she bent to gather them, and ran from the room.
Her stepmother’s voice carried after her. “I hate to say I told you that your daughter was hopeless.”
As Finette clambered up the wide staircase, her father’s soft reply broke her heart all over again.
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