The Invitation Page 3

  “Anything else you need? A partner perhaps?”

  Right away she knew that he was suggesting himself. Now was not the time to make such a decision. Her head was still seeping blood, and her thinking was fuzzy. However, it was delicious to think of this man as her partner. Smiling, she looked up at him, trying to place him. “Who are your parents?”

  “Jace and Nellie.”

  “Ah, that explains it. Half the town is parented by those two.”

  William smiled. All his life he’d heard jokes about the number of children in his family. “Twelve in all.” He was emptying the big picnic basket that seemed to hold enough food for half a dozen loggers. Without saying a word, he began making her a sandwich. Jackie watched in astonishment as he made it just the way she would have made it for herself: chipped beef piled high, lots and lots of mustard, tomatoes; then he sliced a sweet pickle and placed the slices on top of the tomato, using two leaves of lettuce to protect the bread so it wouldn’t get soggy. Watching his face, she could see that he wasn’t paying any attention to what he was doing, that he was concentrating totally on whatever was running through his mind. But it was odd that he would make her a sandwich that was just what she would have made, especially since her sandwiches were, well, unique.

  “Look what I’ve done,” William said. “I was going to make you a sandwich first and now I…” He looked at her. “What do you want?”

  “Just like the one you made for yourself.”

  His handsome face showed a moment’s consternation before he smiled. “Honest? Everyone hates my sandwiches.”

  “Mine too,” she said, reaching out her hand. “How about halves and I’ll make the second one? I cut up olives instead of pickles.”

  “And then everyone complains that the olives fall off.”

  “The idiots don’t know how to hold the bread.”

  They looked at each other across the sandwich and smiled. “Do you think we’ll be able to sandwich this friendship together?” Jackie asked and they both laughed. “What do you think of ketchup?”

  “Hate the stuff.”

  “Onions?”

  “Overpowering. All you can taste is onions. Popcorn?”

  “I could eat my weight in it. You?”

  “Same here.” Leaning back on his elbows, he looked into the fire, and she could tell that he was getting ready to say something important. “If I came up with the money for a few planes and the other things, would you consider me as your partner?”

  “Ever flown before?” It didn’t matter if he had, but the question gave her time to think. Even if he weren’t a Montgomery and endowed with all that that name meant, she was good at judging people and this man was salt of the earth, rock solid. Sometimes things around an airport could get hectic, maybe even frightening when there was a crash, but she doubted if this man would panic if caught in a volcano. The problem was that she knew she was ripe for involvement with a man. It had been two years since Charley’s death and over a year since she’d returned to Chandler, and she was lonely. She was tired of eating alone, sleeping alone, tired of sitting alone in the evenings with no one to talk to. And this man was very, very attractive, both in looks and in disposition.

  “I have been taking lessons for two years,” he said softly, looking at her with eyes that were almost pleading.

  “All right,” she said just as softly, and when she did, she could feel little chills on her body. She liked this man, liked him very much. She liked the way he took responsibility, liked what he talked about, liked the way he moved, the way he ate, what he ate. She liked the way he kissed her, the way he made her feel when he kissed her. In all her life she didn’t remember ever just plain old-fashioned liking a man as much as she did him. She’d been attracted to men before—she’d be a liar if she didn’t admit that—but there was a difference between being sexually attracted to a man and wanting to cuddle up with him and eat popcorn and tell each other secrets.

  Years ago there had been a gorgeous pilot whom Charley had hired to work with them. He was so divinely handsome that she could hardly speak to him; the first time she saw him she dropped a wrench straight through the engine and almost hit Charley on the head. For days she had been tongue-tied when she was near him. But after a few weeks she’d begun to grow used to his looks and soon found out that he liked his own looks even better than she did. After spending six months near him she couldn’t remember that she’d ever thought he was handsome. She’d learned in her long, happy marriage with Charley that what was important between a man and a woman was friendship.

  “All right,” she said, holding out her hand to shake his. “But on one condition.”

  He took her hand and held it firmly. “Anything. Anything at all.”

  “You have to tell me what your deepest darkest secret is. And I want the truth, no telling me about contracts that are a matter of public record.”

  William groaned. “You are a fierce bargainer, Jackie O’Neill.”

  She wouldn’t release his hand. “Tell me or we don’t work together.”

  “All right,” he said, with a slow grin. “You make me an olive sandwich sometime and I’ll tell you the truth about Mexico.”

  “Oh?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

  There are times in a person’s life that are magic, and that night was one of them. Later, Jackie thought the night was perfect, perfect in every way, from the storybook rescue, to a romantic cut on her forehead, to a handsome man taking care of her. And take care of her he did. He made sure she was fed and warm and comfortable. More than that, he made her feel good. He flattered her by knowing every aerobatic stunt she’d performed, every record she’d set, every accident she’d had. It was almost as though he’d been in love with her for years.

  They talked as though they were old friends—friends, not lovers. Jackie often got tired of men whose only interest was in trying to get a woman into bed, who directed their every word, every gesture toward that end. They bragged about themselves, told how much money they had, how much land they owned, how they were better than other men. But William was as comfortable as a woman friend.

  Somewhere during the evening, he had her stretch out on his pallet of blankets and put her head on his firm thigh. Leaning back against a tree, he stroked her hair and encouraged her to talk about herself. Within seconds she found herself telling him about Charley, about her years with him, of the frustrations and hardships, of the triumphs and the failures.

  In return he told her about his life of perfection—or at least that was how he described what to Jackie seemed like an ideal situation. He had never had anyone be cruel to him, never had anyone take an instant dislike to him, never had to struggle for anything.

  “My life makes me wonder about myself. If I were tested, would I hold up?” he asked, frowning into the fire. “Would I be able to do something without my father’s money and the support of the Montgomery name?”

  “Sure you would,” Jackie answered. “You’d be surprised at what you can do when you have to.”

  “Like land a plane that’s just had the propeller knocked off by an eagle?”

  “Is that what that was?”

  “You brought that plane down as easily as someone stepping off a chair. Were you frightened?”

  “I had too much to do to be frightened. Hey!” She looked up at him in the soft light. “Why haven’t you married? Why hasn’t some woman snatched you up already?”

  “I haven’t met a woman I wanted. I like a woman to have a head on her shoulders.”

  “A beautiful head, no doubt,” Jackie said sarcastically.

  “That’s of less importance than what’s inside the head.”

  “You know, I like you. I really do.”

  “And I have always liked you.”

  She was silent for a moment. “I wish I could remember you.”

  “Time enough. Are you cold? Hungry? Thirsty?”

  “No, nothing. I’m perfect.”

  “That you are.”
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  Jackie was embarrassed by his compliment but pleased by it, too. “When do you want to start…ah, our partnership?” When do you want to start spending enormous amounts of time together? was what she wanted to ask him.

  “Tomorrow I have to go to Denver for a few days, and I’ll get money from the bank there. I’ll return on Saturday. How about if I come to your place in the afternoon? Can you give me a list of what you need so I can pick it up in Denver?”

  She laughed at that. “How about some new planes for a start?”

  “What type would you like?”

  He was as serious as she was being lighthearted, and Jackie was suddenly serious too. “How about a couple of Wacos for a start?” And, she thought, maybe later something heavy that can carry a dozen rich passengers in style.

  “All right, I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Just like that?” she said. “I snap my fingers and two new planes show up?”

  “They’re not free. I come with them. You have to take me with the planes.”

  That didn’t seem like much of a punishment. “I guess beggars can’t be choosers.” Stretching, she yawned, snuggling her head on his leg.

  “I think it would be all right if you went to sleep now,” he said, tucking the blanket around her.

  “What about you?” she asked dreamily. “You need to sleep too.”

  “No, I’ll stay awake and watch the fire.”

  “And protect me,” she murmured as she closed her eyes. No, she didn’t think there was going to be any problem with this man’s reliability. Smiling, she dozed off, feeling as safe as though she were home in her own bed, not in the open with coyotes howling in the distance.

  Chapter Two

  Good morning.”

  Wearily, Jackie sat up on the hard ground, and for a moment she didn’t know where she was. Blinking against the bright light of day, she squinted at the woman sitting on the rock across from her.

  “Would you like some coffee?”

  Rubbing her eyes, covering a yawn, Jackie took the tin mug that was held out to her. “Who are you?”

  “William’s sister.”

  “Oh,” she said, still too groggy to ask any questions, but she looked around. William’s car was gone, and in its place was a pickup truck.

  The woman—pretty, dark haired, about thirty—smiled. “You must be confused. Here’s what happened. Last night my mother had one of her spells, as the family calls them. She often gets the idea that one of her children is hurt, is going to be hurt, or is in some danger. Since most of these hunches of hers are correct, my father listened when she said that her son William was lost. That was at about three this morning. I happened to be up, so I said I’d go. It wasn’t difficult to find William; he’d left a map showing where he’d be.” She raised her eyebrows in sisterly mockery. “William is a very responsible person.” She said this last in a sarcastic voice, accompanied by some eye-rolling, as though she also thought William was a bit of a stick-in-the-mud.

  Jackie opened her mouth to defend him, but she closed it. “So you found us.”

  “Yes. I guess my mother sensed the danger you’d been in.” She nodded toward Jackie’s airplane, still smashed against the boulder.

  “Where is he?”

  “William? Oh, he had to leave. He said he had to get to Denver as soon as possible, that he had to buy something very important. He wouldn’t tell Dad or me what it was.” She looked down at her coffee cup. “Do you have any idea what he’s after?”

  Jackie pulled her knees into her chest and didn’t answer. William was very responsible, she thought, feeling a little bit of a thrill run through her. A man who knew what responsibility was would be nice to be around. Charley had been a lot of fun; people loved Charley—but they didn’t have to live with him. Charley never remembered where he put anything; Jackie used to say that she’d spent half of her life looking for whatever Charley had lost that hour. When Charley agreed to go to two different houses for dinner on the same evening, it was Jackie who had to play the villain and get him out of one engagement. There was never a question of how much money Charley brought home; he never got that far with whatever money he received. One time they had spent a grueling week with an air show, flying through a burning barn for the edification and delight of a few hundred farmers and their families. The owner of the show made the mistake of giving Charley their pay while he was in a bar. Charley was brought home the next day, too drunk to stand up, and he hadn’t a penny left; he’d bought everyone round after round of drinks. No, responsibility in a man was not something Jackie was used to.

  “Whenever you’re ready, Dad and I will take you back to Chandler, and we’ll send someone for the plane.”

  “Thanks, that would be great.” Drinking the last of her coffee, she stood and stretched. Looking about her, she couldn’t help smiling. Last night William had said he would take care of everything and he’d already started. He was not only a man of responsibility but a man of his word as well.

  Many years ago Eternity was a thriving little town, close to the big city of Denver, on the way to San Francisco. The discovery of silver was the reason for the town’s existence, and for years the inhabitants thrived. They built rather quickly, but thanks to a Rumanian carpenter, who had grown wealthy, the buildings were sturdy and well constructed. They weren’t the usual flimsy fire traps that were the mainstay of so many towns that sprang up and died within a decade.

  After the silver was played out, most of the residents left the town to die a slow death, but in the 1880s there was a short-lived revival. A rich young woman from an extremely wealthy eastern family named Montgomery moved to town and opened a dress shop that was patronized by other wealthy people from hundreds of miles away. But the young woman fell in love, began to produce babies, and lost interest in the dress shop. And when her interest slackened, so did the quality of the shop. Gradually the town of Eternity renewed its downhill slide, and more people left. The ones who stayed produced children, who left as soon as they were able. Each person who left sold his home and land to the relatives of the young woman who’d once tried to revive the town, until at last every house, every piece of land, was owned by the Montgomery family.

  By the beginning of the twentieth century there was no one living in the town, and the buildings, which had weathered the years well, thanks to the expert carpenter and his harassed crew, were vacant.

  Nearly two years ago, only days after Charley’s death, Jackie had received a letter from the scion of the Montgomery family telling her that his family, now living in the nearby town of Chandler, Colorado, needed a freight service from Chandler to Denver to Los Angeles, and if she was interested in the job, he would build to suit. She accepted his offer right away, but it was six months before she could meet all of her commitments and free herself to move to Chandler. When Charley died, she’d been too grief-stricken to consider her future, but after he was gone, she found that a lot of her ambition had gone with him. Maybe Charley’s praise when she accomplished some great aerobatic feat had pushed her to higher and more difficult deeds. Whatever it was, she no longer wanted to spend her life traveling around the world flying upside down in an airplane before audiences that were holding their breath in fear.

  She sent Mr. Montgomery a detailed list of what she’d need: a landing field, a hangar big enough for four planes—she had great hopes for the future—and a comfortable house that she could eventually buy, since it was her dream to own her own home, a place that no one could take from her.

  After her decision, she had to figure out what to do with Pete, Charley’s mechanic. She had known Pete since she was a girl; she’d met him the day she met Charley, and he had always been there. But that didn’t mean she knew anything about him. Pete didn’t talk, rarely said a word. At first she’d found his constant silent presence almost eerie, for he was wherever Charley was and he was absolutely loyal to him.

  “Doesn’t he ever say anything?” Jackie had demanded of Charley when t
hey were alone in bed. Sometimes she thought she should look under the bed to make sure Pete wasn’t there.

  Charley’d just laughed at her. “Don’t ever underestimate Pete. He may not talk, but he sees and hears everything. And he’s a brilliant mechanic.”

  “He gives me the willies,” she’d said, but Charley laughed at her again, pulled her on top of him, and began kissing her. They’d rarely mentioned Pete after that; he was just something that was there, rather like the planes themselves.

  Over the years she began to understand how valuable Pete was, and when the thin little man saw that Jackie was also loyal to Charley, that she didn’t run around with other men, didn’t give Charley too hard a time, he began to take care of her, too. Pete made sure that her planes were ready and that nothing that a mechanic could foresee was wrong with them.

  Gradually, over the years, Jackie grew used to him and talked to him at times, and somehow his silent presence was comforting. He never offered any advice, never even made a comment when she talked to him. He just listened to her and let her sort out her own problems.

  After Charley’s death it was natural that Pete should stay on the circuit with her, but when she decided to move to Chandler, she had no idea what he would do. She told him what she had planned and fully expected him to say that he’d start working for one of Charley’s thousands of male friends. But Pete listened to her, his weather-beaten old face showing nothing; then he said, “When do we leave?” Those few words told Jackie that he had transferred his loyalty to her, and she knew it was high tribute. Charley had said that Pete was a snob; he’d only work for the best. No amount of money could make him work for someone he thought was less than the best. So when Pete said he was going with her, she knew he was complimenting her on her talents and on the decision she had made. On impulse she kissed his leathery old cheek and then had the great pleasure of seeing him blush.