“What, no tennis and golf? No beach club?”
“We’ll save that for when we’re on location in Palm Beach.”
“All right, look for us around two P.M. at the Jackson airfield. We’ll have lunch on the airplane.”
“We’ll be ready for you. And Rick, bring me some cash, will you?”
“Okay.”
Rick scribbled out a chit and called his secretary in. “Get me this in cash, today, please; I won’t be in tomorrow.”
“How do you want it?”
“Six thousand in hundreds, the rest in fifties and twenties.”
When she came back with the money, Rick stuffed the fat envelope into his briefcase and rechecked his planning, excited about the flight.
10
Rick and Glenna arrived a little late for dinner at the Harris home to find everyone else already there. The Sam Goldwyns, old friends of Eddie’s and Susan’s, were there, along with Rick’s friend, David Niven, who was with a girl they didn’t know. Niven’s wife had died the year before, when she had fallen down the cellar stairs at the home of Tyrone Power while playing a party game, and Rick was glad to see David out and around again.
Vance Calder, who looked perfectly at home in his borrowed tuxedo, was paired with Adele Mannheim, the widowed sister of the late Sol Weinman, Centurion’s founder, who had been Rick’s dinner partner on his first visit to this house. She was a charming woman, now in her sixties, and Vance, Rick was pleased to see, was paying a lot of attention to her.
Everyone waited for Rick and Glenna to finish a drink, and then Suzanne had them called to dinner.
After dinner, the ladies left the gentlemen to their brandy and cigars, both of which, Rick noticed, Vance declined, as did he.
“Sam,” Eddie said to Goldwyn, “what do you think of all this business with the House Un-American Activities Committee?”
Goldwyn shrugged. “I think if they look hard enough they’ll find a few Communists under a few rocks, maybe even some people we know. I don’t know what will come of it, but I don’t think it’s a good thing.”
“Neither do I,” Eddie said.
“You know,” Goldwyn said, “when I read the Constitution it makes me think that these people shouldn’t be asking the questions they’re asking. It’s nobody’s business what a fellow’s politics are in this country. Or am I right?”
“You’re right, Sam,” Eddie said.
“Young man,” Goldwyn said to Vance, “are you an American citizen yet?”
“No, Mr. Goldwyn,” Vance replied. “I haven’t been here long enough to qualify; I hope to become a citizen as soon as I’m elegible.”
“Well, if that’s what you want, let me give you some advice: don’t talk politics with anybody, and don’t sign anything.”
“Sam,” Eddie said, “Vance has just signed a contract with us. I’m glad we got to him before he heard your advice.”
“Yes, well, that’s your misfortune, young man; you should have signed with me.”
Niven spoke up. “You did very well, Vance.”
Everybody laughed.
“There’s a lot of self-appointed policemen of other people’s politics in this town,” Goldwyn said, “and some of them think that people who come from where I do aren’t real Americans. Some of them don’t like my religion, either. I won’t be working with these people no more.”
“That’s sad,” Eddie said.
“I’m not sad!” Goldwyn said. “I’m the happiest fellow, and I’m not going to let these people tell me how to run my business.”
“Good for you, Sam,” Eddie said. “Let’s go join the ladies.” They got up and moved back into the living room.
Rick and Vance were seated next to each other.
“How did you like Adele?” Rick asked.
“She’s lovely. I enjoyed her company.”
“Good. I didn’t want to mention it before, but she’s a large stockholder in Centurion. You know, the first time I came to this house I wore a tuxedo borrowed from wardrobe, and I was seated next to Adele. The other guests were the Goldwyns and the Clark Gables.”
“How did you happen to join Centurion, Rick?” Vance asked.
“It’s too long a story for tonight. Maybe I’ll get a chance to tell you this weekend.”
“I’m looking forward to the weekend.”
“Good. Bring some riding clothes, and I don’t mean tweeds.”
“Wardrobe has already fixed me up,” Vance said.
Rick turned to Niven. “David, we’re flying up to a beautiful place in Wyoming tomorrow. There’s some trout fishing up there. Would you like to come with us? There’s room on the airplane.”
“That sounds wonderful, Rick,” Niven replied, “but I have two invitations this weekend that I can’t get out of. Word has got ’round that I’m socializing again, I guess. I’d love to another time.”
“David and I once went trout fishing in Oregon with Clark Gable and Clete Barrow,” Rick said to Vance.
“And England declared war that weekend,” Niven remembered. “Clete and I were on our way to England in a matter of days.” He leaned a little closer. “And I don’t think Sam has ever forgiven me for walking out on my contract.”
By ten, the party was over, and the guests went their separate ways.
Driving home, with Glenna at the wheel of her new convertible, she said, “I thought Vance did awfully well, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. He paid the proper amount of attention to Adele.”
“What did you gentlemen talk about over dinner?” she asked.
“Politics.”
“Ugh,” she said.
11
The Centurion Douglas DC–3 was sitting out in front of the Barron Flying Service hangar, her newly polished aluminum skin gleaming, when Rick and Glenna arrived.
“She’s beautiful,” Glenna said. “Eddie is going to be pleased.”
Rick opened the trunk of the car so a lineman could get their luggage out of the car and aboard the airplane. “Wait until you see the interior,” he said, leading her around to the door.
They stepped aboard. There were a pair of facing sofas up front and a beautifully crafted refreshment area; to the rear were a dozen large and comfortable seats, only one on each side of the aisle. “This is very nice.”
“The airplane will seat as many as thirty-two,” Rick said, “but it’s configured for a maximum of eighteen, with three on each sofa, and today, we’re only eight, so we’ll get excellent range and good speed.”
Other cars began to arrive, and Vance had come alone, so they were only seven. Soon everybody was aboard, waiting for Rick and his dad to finish the preflight inspection.
“She’s gorgeous,” Eddie Harris said, surveying his newly renovated airplane.
“She’s as perfect as I know how to make her,” Jack Barron said.
“She’s better than new,” Rick said. “Thanks, Dad, and now we’d better get going.” He passed out earplugs, made sure everyone was comfortably seated and belted in, then he went forward to the cockpit.
Vance tugged at his sleeve as he passed. “Rick, do you mind if I sit up front?”
“No, come ahead,” Rick said. “There’s a headset hanging on your yoke, there,” he said, pointing. “Fasten your seat belt, and we’re off.” Rick began working through his checklist, then started each engine. The big 1,200-horsepower radials rumbled smoothly, and Rick nudged the throttles forward and began taxiing to the runway. He stopped at the end and went through the run-up checklist.
“Clover tower,” Rick said on the radio. “Douglas 123 Tango Foxtrot ready for takeoff on two one.”
“Tango Foxtrot cleared for takeoff,” the tower operator replied.