Flight Risk (Antiques in Flight)

by Nicole Helm

  Sometimes she really missed old Callie.

  Trevor shifted so their knees brushed, and Callie looked up. He was staring at her, studying her face with a focused intensity that never failed to make her squirm. When his gaze dropped to her lips, his body moved slightly toward hers, even as her heartbeat increased, Callie knew she had to end the moment before it started. Too tired and scared to tiptoe around the subject, she went for straightforward.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she muttered, staring down at the bottle. She was still embarrassed she’d thrown herself at him two years ago. Embarrassed at how easily Trevor had pushed her away and rationally explained she was acting out of grief.

  No shit.

  “Oh, I think about it,” he returned, though his words were slightly slurred. He gestured his bottle toward her. “You don’t kiss a guy like that and expect him to forget.”

  “It was a mistake.” Maybe over the course of the past two years she’d found herself wondering if it had just been drunken grief, but she’d cleaned up her life enough to know exploring a romantic thing with Trevor would be the biggest mistake she could make. He was her oldest friend, her biggest champion. Mixing that up would mean potentially losing him.

  “I know it was.”

  She refused to analyze why his agreement irritated her. “So let’s not repeat it.” It was best to forget she’d ever blurred the lines. Best to keep pretending that stupid kiss had been nothing, a little fluke of a mistake due to heartache and alcohol.

  “You’re right.”

  Time to change the subject, and create a little distance. Go back to the main reason for her coming by. Comfort. Help. “We need something to eat with all this liquor. I’ll go rummage around for a snack. You see if you can find something to watch on TV.”

  At Trevor’s terrible attempt to hide a wince, Callie stood. “I can make a sandwich or open a bag of chips.”

  “Are you sure about that? I’ve heard kitchens are known to spontaneously combust when you walk into them.”

  Just like that they were back on even ground. Exactly where they should be.

  Chapter Two

  Callie drove away from the Steele house, away from the epicenter of Pilot’s Point, out into farmland and curving two-lane highway. The world around was greening up as April meandered its way toward warmer temperatures.

  On another day, she might have enjoyed the beautiful morning scene. She might have rolled down the windows of her ancient Ford Taurus and smiled. This morning, a headache pounded behind her eyes and the contents of her stomach sloshed uneasily back and forth.

  Monday morning with a hangover was no way to start the week. Monday morning waking up with Trevor’s head cradled in her lap and a hangover was the worst way to start the week. She felt fuzzy, sick and confused.

  She pulled into the gate of AIF and onto the gravel drive that led to the cluster of buildings. Gravel popped under her tires as she came to a slow stop. Instead of heading down past the office buildings, hangars and grass runway to the cabin she and Em shared, Callie parked in front of the library and stepped out.

  She was already ten minutes late for Em’s weekly Monday morning pep talk so there was no time for a shower and hangover breakfast. Instead of heading inside though, Callie stood for a moment. There was a cool breeze blowing in from the west with the faintest hint of spring’s earthy scent. Dew sparkled on the grass around the buildings. Mowing would need to start soon. More work and they were already running themselves ragged. At this rate, she’d be mowing by moonlight most weeks.

  Callie shaded her eyes and looked at the office, the Canteen and her shop. The sun’s rays bounced off the gray metal buildings making them sparkle along with the dew. The blue and red trim would need to be repainted before September. More to-dos. They never ended. It could get frustrating or overwhelming at times, but it was better than the alternative. Losing it all. When Callie looked at all the beauty and memories around her, fear of losing it all grew exponentially.

  Callie took a deep breath and allowed herself a moment—just a moment—to dwell on what might happen if they lost AIF. Without AIF Callie would have nothing, be nothing. Em would be able to get work in any library, no problem. Mary, AIF’s longtime secretary, could get clerical work anywhere, or just retire. Without AIF, Callie was hopeless. She had no transferable skills and there weren’t exactly a lot of jobs out there for an antique airplane mechanic who hadn’t been able to finish community college.

  But it went beyond her ability to earn a living. She could imagine Gramps sitting in his attic office, his dogs lying in varying positions around him, magazines and letters piled up everywhere. When she pictured her grandfather, it was always there. Always here.

  Losing AIF meant she would have lost everything that had ever been home, and everything that had ever been family.

  She crossed the gravel drive to the library. It was a repurposed house—her aunt and uncle’s old house before they’d moved to Alaska. As kids, Callie, Em and Lawson had camped out in the backyard and snuck into the hangars late at night. The Baker grandkids, the future of AIF.

  At the thought of her cousin, Callie’s mood darkened. Lawson should have come home years ago, but his newly ex-wife’s acting career in L.A. had kept him and his two sons far away.

  If he would just come home, things would be so much easier. He would take over Gramps’s role like he’d always wanted, and she and Em wouldn’t be stretched so thin. The boys would be able to help out too.

  But they wouldn’t come, so it was a waste of time standing on the porch of the library wishing it could be. All Callie could do was control the here and now. Callie stepped into the library. What was once a TV room and bedroom separated by a wall was now a big, open room with shelves of colorful books on aviation lining three of the four walls. Five long tables stood on gleaming wood floors and sunlight streamed in through big picture windows. The wood-paneled walls not hidden by bookshelves were covered in prints of antique planes, watercolors of the airport itself, and other knick-knacks that gave nod to the overreaching purpose of AIF. Keep the Antiques Flying.

  To the left, Em sat at a big, old desk looking over some paperwork. Mary sat stretched out in an armchair. For the past two years, it had been the three of them working their asses off to keep things going. Callie smiled a little. Maybe they hadn’t always succeeded, and maybe they wouldn’t always, but she had to be proud of what they’d accomplished since Gramps died.

  “There you are,” Em greeted with her perpetually sunny smile. “How are Trevor and Shelby holding up?”

  “About as well as can be expected.”

  Mary held out a bagel and a bottle of water. “Lifesaver.” Callie took a long gulping drink of the water. “What did I miss?”

  “Well.” Em and Mary exchanged looks Callie couldn’t read, but she didn’t need to know what the look was about to know what it meant. Something she wouldn’t like.

  “Well?”

  “We were actually talking about…” Mary trailed off and stared down at her aging Metallica T-shirt. Most would look at Mary with her shaggy mop of graying brown hair, clear green eyes, and love of heavy metal and not pin her over sixty. Though Mary kept her exact age a secret, Callie knew she had to be pushing seventy-five.

  “Trevor,” Em finished, obviously working hard to keep her smile bright and innocent.

  Callie looked from Mary to Em, frowned. “What about Trevor?”

  Em stood behind the big desk. With her wavy blonde hair, big blue eyes and long, flowing skirts she looked like some kind of hippie angel. To Callie it was a constant marvel they shared any DNA at all.

  “We were just talking about how he’s probably staying in Pilot’s Point for a little bit, right?”

  “Yeah.” Callie bit into the bagel, not sure why this topic was making her uncomfortable. “Until he gets Shelby off to college anyway,” she added through a mouthful of food.

  Mary perked up in her chair, looking at Em again. They were practi
cally having a telepathic conversation, but Callie wasn’t in the mood to decipher.

  “That’d be August or even September, right?” Em asked, shuffling some papers on her desk.

  “Yeah.”

  “And I assume since he’s going back to Seattle in the fall he’s not working while he’s home?”

  Callie closed her eyes. The food and drink were not helping at all and the headache drummed louder. “Would you two spit out whatever you’re planning so I can decide whether or not I need to warn Trevor.”

  “Nothing to warn him about.” Em gave a dismissive wave. “We thought maybe he could help out around AIF. As a volunteer.”

  Callie’s shoulders hunched up to her ears. The idea was a good one, but she inexplicably felt weird about it. “Trevor is clueless when it comes to planes.”

  “Yeah, but he could run a mower, paint trim, and so on. All those little things we’re always struggling to make time for.”

  All those things Callie had just been dreading. It would be nice to have someone around to take up the grunt work so they could focus on the important stuff. But Trevor? For some reason the idea of him underfoot day in and day out had her feeling a little unsure.

  “Trevor’s mom just died. He’s trying to get Shelby graduated.”

  “Yes, but Shelby still has two months of school and Trevor’s sitting around in that house by himself for most of the day.” For the first time, Em’s eyes met hers. As it always did, the bright blue depths reminded Callie of their father. A man Em could barely remember, and these days, it was getting harder and harder for Callie to remember clearly. But, she’d always remember those eyes.

  Mary spoke into the silence. “We need help, Callie. And Lawson, well…” Mary trailed off again, sharing Callie’s pessimism about the last Baker grandchild returning to his rightful place.

  “Lawson will come home,” Em interjected with a determined nod. “He’s working on full custody right now, and then Sue can’t keep him from moving back.”

  This time it was Callie and Mary who exchanged looks. Callie figured Mary was thinking the same thing she was. I’ve heard that before.

  “In the meantime, though,” Em continued, not meeting either skeptical look, “Trevor would be a tremendous help.”

  “What makes you think he’ll agree to volunteer to be our grunt worker?”

  “You.” Em smiled sweetly. “You could convince Trevor to do just about anything.”

  Callie scoffed and shoved the rest of her bagel into her mouth.

  “Oh, come on. That boy’d do anything for you, and you know it.”

  Callie swallowed, tried to ignore the way the unease was building, settling in her gut like a hard, tense rock. “Hardly.”

  “Remember in high school when he convinced Mr. Martin you weren’t cheating on that test? Or when he broke Frank Winston’s nose after…” Em trailed off, wisely choosing not to finish that thought.

  Callie couldn’t stop from finishing the thought in her head, though. Trevor had broken Frank Winston’s nose after Frank had convinced her to have sex with him only days after her grandmother’s funeral and then dumped her five minutes after he’d taken her virginity. And, like an idiot, she’d whined to Trevor about it and he’d had to get up on his white horse.

  “What about when he was working for County and you got in that bar fight with Sheila Evans and he convinced everyone involved not to press charges?”

  “Or—”

  “I get the picture.” Callie held up a hand in hopes they would stop rehashing the litany of ways Trevor had saved her ass over the years. “First of all, I want to point out that the fight with Sheila was in no way my fault. Second, don’t all those events illustrate that maybe I shouldn’t manipulate a guy who’s done a lot for me into mowing our grass and hauling our trash?”

  Em let out a lengthy sigh. “In another lifetime, maybe. In this lifetime, we need to manipulate anyone we can.”

  It wasn’t often Em let enough realism in to admit that. Dejection infiltrated the room, weighing on all of their shoulders.

  Callie looked from Em’s sad expression to Mary’s disconcerted frown and made a particular effort to smile and lighten the mood. “Adding a guy to this trio of female awesomeness might be a problem.”

  Buoyed, Em laughed. “True, it might upset the delicate balance of kick-butt estrogen, but I’m afraid we might need some testosterone around here.”

  Callie snorted. “Please. We do not need a man’s help.”

  “Okay, it doesn’t have to be testosterone,” Em amended equitably. “But we definitely need help of any variety. I don’t really care where Trevor falls in terms of gender. I just know we need his help.”

  “Fine. I’ll ask him.” Callie hunched her shoulders again at the thought of asking Trevor for yet another favor in a lifetime of favors. “But if he says no—”

  “You’ll have to find a way to make him say yes,” Mary finished. “Maybe you could seduce him.”

  “Mary!”

  “What?” She smiled, wiggling her graying eyebrows. “Might be a fun way to help out good old AIF.”

  “So much for girl power,” Callie muttered. As if seducing Trevor would ever work. And if it would? Callie shook her head. She was losing her mind. “I’ve got to take a shower. I’d like to get my to-do list done before sundown so I can get some work done on the Stearman.”

  “You really think you’ll have it ready by the fly-in?”

  “I better. Best chance to sell it.”

  Em chewed her lip. “Callie, we don’t have to sell it. You and Dad both soloed—”

  Callie held up her hand. “Once I get it running again, we’re selling it. Think what we could do with the money.”

  “But—”

  “I’m going to grab a shower. I’ll call Trevor this afternoon and see what he’s up for. Later, ladies.”

  End of discussion. She’d already made her peace with selling a plane that held so much sentiment. One plane was no match for all of AIF.

  Em followed her out onto the porch.

  “Leave me alone, Em.”

  “This isn’t about the plane.” Em followed Callie’s hurried stride away from the library. “It’s about Billie’s wedding.”

  “I don’t give two shits about Billie’s wedding. She’s your friend. Not mine.”

  “I know, but I thought I’d warn you. Frank’s a groomsman. The groomsman I’m paired up with.”

  Callie stopped short, her stomach pitching. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I know Frank’s a total jackass for what he did to you, but it was a long time ago. I don’t want you to get all riled up about this. It’s one night, one little walk down an aisle. No big deal, but I didn’t want someone blabbing it around in town like it was, especially since it’s three months away.”

  Frank Winston would not be putting his hands anywhere near her sister. In three months or in three years, but Callie had other things to focus on at the moment. She managed her best reassuring smile and patted Em on the arm. “No big deal, sis.”

  Em’s worried frown deepened. “I know there’s going to be trouble whenever you call me sis.”

  Callie couldn’t fight a wicked grin. “I guess we’ll find out in three months. Right now, I have got to get in the shower.”

  Trevor pulled into the lot of AIF not quite sure what he was going to accomplish. He’d spent the entire day trying to maneuver around Shelby’s unpredictable outbursts of tears. He didn’t even have to say anything and she’d start crying.

  It made sense a teenage girl would be prone to emotional outbursts after losing her mom. Trevor just wished he knew what to do about them. Especially when she would go on and on about how good it was to have him home. Where he belonged.

  Why couldn’t Shelby see he didn’t belong in Pilot’s Point? He belonged at work. Where women didn’t cry all over him looking for comfort or expect him to know what to do when a boy called the house asking for his sister. He’d rather face a man wit
h a gun.

  He was grasping at straws by asking for Callie’s help, but at least if she failed too he’d have someone to commiserate with.

  He parked outside the metal building of Callie’s shop, knowing she’d be there despite the workday being over. The sun was beginning to set and the air was beginning to cool. It was nice to be out of the house, to be outside, to be somewhere that didn’t remind him of his parents.

  The fields of green grass at AIF reminded him of summer as a kid. AIF would always remind him of those carefree days before life had gotten so complicated.

  Trevor stepped up to the threshold of the shop. The door was open and he peeked inside. Callie was on a stepladder bent over a large, black engine of some sort. Though she faced him, her gaze was so intent on the plane, she didn’t notice his presence.

  She looked peaceful, which wasn’t a common look for Callie. She’d looked so sad last night when she’d talked about AIF’s possible future, and though he understood how much AIF meant to her, seeing her in a rare moment of peaceful fulfillment reminded him of exactly that and of how much she had already lost.

  It didn’t seem right to show up asking for a favor when she had so much on her hands already. Maybe he could figure out a way to deal with Shelby on his own.

  He thought of Shelby’s tears soaking the shoulder of his shirt over lunch. Okay, no, he couldn’t do it on his own.

  Em’s sunny, soothing voice broke through Trevor’s thoughts. She was standing off to the side with her back to him, talking to Callie. Callie’s face was intent on the engine as she worked to screw something in. They didn’t seem to realize he was in the doorway, and for some reason he didn’t speak up. Instead he watched the two half-sisters talk.