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They were on safer ground now. No more discussion of women, thank God. Jack much preferred commiserating over the challenges of flying the mail.
“You lucky bastard,” said Jack, “only flying when the weather is good, no more freezing your ass off on long haul flights, testing out the latest models while we’re stuck flying old Jennies from the war…”
“Hey there now, don’t go disparaging Jennies. They are fine aircrafts that have stood the test of time.”
Castling, Jack chuckled. “Easy for you to say when you don’t have to fly one on a daily basis, trusting a bit of wood and fabric with an outdated engine to keep you alive over tricky terrain in all kinds of weather.”
The food arrived, and Jack dug into his sandwich.
“My wife flies a Jenny,” said Hank, taking a pawn with his knight. “I’ll trust it any day over the contraptions I fly for Mr. Curtiss. Sometimes I’m amazed they get off the ground. Can you believe some of the latest models are metal?”
“So I’ve heard. How can something metal be light enough to fly?” Jack took Hank’s knight with his bishop, then took another bite of his sandwich. It was such a relief to talk about metal airplanes instead of Constance, whom he wasn’t thinking about. Not one bit.
“Beats me. I damn near quit my job the first time Mr. Curtiss asked me to fly one. Speaking of jobs, how are your flight school plans going?”
Jack sighed. “I’ve got my eye on a parcel of land out in Bayport, but I’m still saving up the money. If I’m going to make this happen before I’m old and gray, I need an investor, but I haven’t found one yet.” It wouldn’t be Doug Brown. He knew that much.
“Hmm. You know, you should talk to my father-in-law. He’s always on the lookout for investment opportunities. About how much do you need?”
“To do it right? About ten thousand—five thousand for the land for the airfield, fifteen hundred to build a hangar, and another fifteen hundred or so for some second-hand Jennies, and then two thousand to hire a mechanic and a secretary.” He had it all worked out and typed up in a business plan, but every bank he’d gone to had turned him down, saying that aviation was too risky. He’d managed to save up about four thousand so far, but he still had a long way to go.
Hank nodded slowly. “We should definitely talk. My father-in-law has taken a particular interest in aviation investments in the last year or so, though I should warn you the man drives a hard bargain.”
More bankers. Wonderful. But Jack was ready to talk to every banker in New York City if it would get him the funds he needed for his dream. “Thanks for offering! I just might take you up on that.”
At that moment, Hank’s gaze turned to the door, and he broke out in a smile. “Oh, hey, look! There’s O’Donnell,” he said, waving to the lanky Irishman.
Jack held in a groan. Bill O’Donnell was a good friend, but Jack hadn’t forgotten their last conversation where Bill started trying to guess what mystery lady Jack was interested in. He could only hope Bill had a short memory.
“Hawley and Thompson,” Bill exclaimed. “It’s my lucky day!” He came over and pulled up a chair. “So has Jack spilled the beans about his secret lady love?”
Damn it all. Of course, that would be the first thing Bill brought up. Jack swallowed and tried to look nonchalant.
“No, he has not,” said Hank, with a growing grin. “He led me to believe there was no one special in his life. What aren’t you telling us, Jack?”
“Yes, Jack, what are you hiding?” asked O’Donnell with wide eyes, propping his chin on his hand.
Panic gripped Jack as he cast about in his mind for some way to distract them. “I’m not hiding a thing. Did you hear about how they’re going to start installing radio communications between the airstrips so that we can stay current on weather conditions?”
“Nice try,” said Bill. “Who is she?”
Jack sighed. He knew from experience Bill wouldn’t let this go. His nose for gossip was impeccable. “It doesn’t matter who it is because nothing has happened between us, and it never will.”
Hank chuckled. “That’s what I said about Rory when we first met.”
“It’s true,” Bill chimed in. “He did say that. I remember it well.”
Jack was about ready to throttle them both, the smug, happily married bastards with nothing better to do than torture their single friends. “Can’t a man eat his sandwich in peace?” He stuffed a large bite in his mouth.
“You can trust us. I kept Hank’s secret when he was sneaking around to see Rory.” Bill leaned forward with a smug, ingratiating grin.
“It’s true, he did,” said Hank, “hard as it is to believe.”
“I still can’t tell you.” Jack stared avidly at the chess board, wishing it would show him a way out of this.
Bill snapped his fingers and leaned back. “I know who it is.”
“Oh? Do tell,” said Hank.
