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“Airplane rides?” Norma Rose asked. “Does Forrest know about this?”
“No, but he will,” Twyla said. “I’ll tell him when I tell him about Babe Ruth.”
“Babe Ruth? The baseball player?” Norma Rose asked. “What about him?”
“He’ll be here, too,” Twyla said. “That’s why we need a parade.”
“Does Babe Ruth know that?” Josie asked.
“He will,” Twyla said. “As soon as I call him.”
Norma Rose dropped her paper on the desk. “Stop right there. You can’t just call Babe Ruth and tell him to be in White Bear Lake, Minnesota on the Fourth of July. That’s not even two weeks away.”
Twyla tossed one of the daily newspapers the resort received across the desk. Seeing that article this morning had confirmed that everything was going to work. “He’s already going to be in Minnesota. On the third. I’ll just ask him to stay one more day.”
“Why?” Norma Rose then asked. “Why would we want to do all of this?”
Twyla bit her bottom lip while determining just how much to say. “Because the Plantation needs to start earning money again, and Forrest is in California with his mother. I want to do this for him. You’re my sisters, and I need your help to make it happen.”
She knew her eyes were full of pleading, and for the first time in years it was genuine.
“I’m in,” Josie said. “I’ll call a special meeting for the society today.”
“Thank you,” Twyla said before she turned to Norma Rose.
“Of course I’m in,” Norma Rose said. “I’m the one who said Nightingale’s and the Plantation should partner up.”
“Yes, you did,” Twyla said. “And thank you for the idea.”
“Now you just have to get Forrest to agree,” Josie said.
Twyla nodded even as a lump formed in her stomach.
Chapter Fifteen
It had become one of the longest weeks of his life, and seeing the hangar below lifted Forrest’s spirits considerably. Alone, he’d have been home yesterday, but with his mother as passenger, he’d put the plane down overnight. A good thing, too. Flying over the mountains in Montana had left her rather queasy.
The landing was smooth. Taxiing along the runway, he waved at Jacob standing next to his trusty old Model T, ready to take them to the Plantation.
This hadn’t been his home for years, but lately, for the first time in Forrest’s life, it had started to feel like home.
With Jacob’s help, his postflight chores took half the time. Before he knew it, Forrest was in the backseat of Jacob’s Model T as the man drove toward town. His mother was full of questions, and Jacob was busy answering them, which gave Forrest time to watch the scenery—especially the road to Nightingale’s—as they rolled along.
At the Plantation, the rumble of bowling balls and laughter echoed through the air as he carried his mother’s luggage up the stairway. He glanced over his shoulder at Jacob, who was carrying two more suitcases—his plane had never been packed so full.
Jacob grinned. “Busy place today.”
“I’d say so,” his mother replied, carrying two small bags. “I can’t wait for a tour.”
“I’ll give you one as soon as we put your luggage in the apartment,” Forrest said, opening the door. He stopped in his tracks. And only moved inside when Jacob gave him a little shove.
The cupboard doors had all been rehung and painted. The walls had been painted, too, and the rug looked almost new. He turned to Jacob.
“I’ll give your mother a tour of the place,” Jacob said. “You’re needed in the office.”
Forrest didn’t ask why. He might not want to know.
The door had been closed when he’d walked past, but that wasn’t unusual when no one was in it. At least no one should be in it. By the time he’d run down the stairs, he had a feeling he knew who was behind the door.
He thrust it open and let loose the smile that instantly tugged at his lips.
“Hello,” Twyla said, leaning against the corner of his desk.
She had to have more dresses than a midnight sky had stars. Today her outfit was green and sparkly and fit her as snugly as his flying helmet. She was also the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
“I saw you drive in,” she said.
He closed the door. “You did?”
She nodded. “I thought it might take you a little longer to get your mother settled.”
“She wants a tour.”
“Oh, well, go ahead, I can wait.”
He started walking forward, slowly, which was torturous. Every part of him wanted to fly across the room, grab her, kiss her, tell her how much he’d missed her. “You can?”
