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  At the thought of receiving an invitation, Jen’s pulse accelerated. She had to admit it would be fun to walk in the shoes of the elite if only for a night. Moreover, Wagner would be there. Though she was still angry with him, a dance might be entertaining. She could stomp on his toes. On the other hand, Ruthie designed glamorous, overstated gowns. Those were definitely not to her taste.

  “My temperament would like a leather coat and boots,” Jen countered. “I don’t suppose you had that in mind.”

  Minnie giggled. “Don’t be silly. Ruthie designed the most beautiful dress for you. It’s perfect. Not a bit of lace or anything frilly. You’ll love it.”

  Ruth slipped a sketch across the worktable.

  Even in the dull light of the oil lamp, the dress took Jen’s breath away. Minnie was right. It didn’t have any ornamentation beyond a simple sash gathered at the hip. The handkerchief hem and sweeping boyish cut were the height of fashion. Ruth had even drawn a short-haired model. A sleek band encircled her head, sporting a small feather.

  “With your coloring, a deeper, more russet red would work well.” Ruth laid a sample fabric on the table.

  Jen fingered the airy material. “It’s silk. We can’t afford silk.”

  Ruth looked at Minnie. “It’s something we found lying around in the shop. What do you think? Do you like it?”

  Jen ran her hand over the fabric one more time. “It’s beautiful, but I can’t.” She pushed the sketch and fabric away. “Wagner will get invited but not me. I’m just working on supplies, part of the support crew. The crew is never included.”

  “I’m sure you’re wrong,” Ruth whispered, “but even if you’re right, this gown won’t go to waste.” Again she looked to Minnie.

  “That’s right,” Minnie gushed. “You can wear it for my wedding. I want you to be my maid of honor.”

  Ruthie pressed her hands together. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

  Jen did not enjoy weddings. Each one reminded her how far she was from ever finding the sort of man she would want to spend a lifetime with. They also reminded her of Daddy’s promise to one day walk her down the aisle and how that would never come true now. She must have let the moment of sorrow show, for Minnie’s excitement changed to a stricken look.

  “Say you’ll do it?” Minnie’s wide blue eyes begged for Jen’s agreement. “Please? It would mean so much to me. You’re the only one I even considered.”

  How could Jen deny her baby sister? That day wasn’t about Jen’s dashed hopes or broken dreams, it was about Minnie. She smiled as broadly as she could manage. “Of course I will.”

  Minnie screeched and threw her arms around Jen. “Oh, thank you. Thank you.”

  “Then it’s settled.” Ruth snatched up the sketch and fabric. “We will make the dress.”

  “All right. I’ll wear it to the wedding.” Jen extricated herself from Minnie’s enthusiasm.

  “And to the ball. I know you will,” Minnie insisted. “From the way Dan Wagner was looking at you yesterday, I have no doubt he will ask you to go with him.”

  Jen’s sisters were so excited with their plotting and planning that she couldn’t disappoint them. Soon enough they’d learn that even if Dan Wagner did ask her to the ball, she would never accept.

  Chapter Eight

  Jen had trouble focusing on the conversation at supper that night. Minnie chattered on and on about her wedding plans, but Ruthie and Sam were unusually quiet.

  Before the sisters closed the dress shop, Sam had arrived with the mail and a glum expression. He and Ruth had vanished into the back room. Perhaps he had received bad news from home. Sam’s father had suffered a stroke of apoplexy, much like the ones that had gradually weakened Daddy. Jen expected Sam or Ruth to reveal what had happened once they were all gathered around the table, but thus far they had remained silent. Maybe the problem wasn’t with Sam’s family but something else entirely. If the lack of orders on the spindle was any indication, the dress shop was struggling financially. If only one of them would spill what was wrong.

  Instead, Minnie told Mother that Jen had agreed to be her maid of honor before dancing off into a discussion of flowers, decorations and other uninteresting aspects of getting married. If Jen ever wedded, she would elope and forget all this fuss.

  Much more interesting to her were the looks that Sam and Ruth gave each other. Somehow they managed to ask and answer questions without saying a word. It only ended when the baby started fussing and Ruth got up to check on him.

  Then Sam turned his attention to Jen. “Did you read the article in the newspaper about that diphtheria outbreak in Alaska?”

  “Is there another update today?” Jen eyed the newspaper, carefully folded beside her mother’s plate. Mother wouldn’t let her read it during the meal, but maybe later. “I thought it was all settled.”

  “Apparently they need more antitoxin up in Nome than the dogsleds brought the first time.” Sam tore a piece of bread in half and dipped it in the bean soup. “They’re trying to decide how to send it this time. I thought you’d be interested to know that they might try airplanes.”

  “That’s smart. If the weather’s good, they should be able to do it.”

  “Hmm. Apparently the government has gotten involved in the matter. Some think the debate over how to transport it has gotten too political.”

  Jen read disapproval in his comment. Though Sam had been raised in the cradle of capitalism, he now espoused a community-centered approach that placed people’s welfare first. Jen didn’t disagree, but she believed progress could bring the same result. “All that matters is getting the serum there by the fastest means. If an airplane can get it there in half the time, then they should use airplanes.”

  “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’re biased.” His grin betrayed he was teasing.

  “Not at all,” she shot back.

  “I understand that the new man on the polar expedition is a whiz with cold-weather flying.”

  “He knows a lot,” Jen admitted. His description of how the weather would affect the plane on a polar attempt had stuck in her mind. “But he doesn’t know everything. He came here to see the new expedition engines.”

  “And stayed on for the expedition.”

  Ruth returned. “Or maybe he had another reason for staying.”

  Jen felt an uncomfortable heat creep into her cheeks and shoveled soup into her mouth so she wouldn’t have to respond to Ruthie’s prodding.

  Mother must have finished discussing Minnie’s wedding, for she chimed in. “I heard at the Ladies’ Aid Society meeting that Mr. Wagner is getting paid. Are they paying you, too?”

  Jen choked on a mouthful of soup and coughed into her napkin. She had to swallow half a glass of water before she could talk, but she did shake her head hoping to stop this line of inquiry.

  “Why not?” Mother asked.

  “Because they don’t pay crew.” Jen gulped another mouthful of water.

  Ruth handed her a piece of bread. “That will help calm your throat.”

  Jen took a bite. At least she wouldn’t have to answer while chewing.

  “Well, they should,” Mother said. “Crew perform an important job. Jen, I insist you ask the Hunters for your usual wage.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Of course you can. You work for the flight school when it’s open. They value your work.”

  “No,” Jen said. “You don’t understand. We already have an agreement. I’m working on the expedition in exchange for flight lessons.”

  Mother’s lips pressed into a line of disapproval before she shook her head. “Then you’re determined to go forward with this nonsense.”

  “It’s not nonsense—”

  Mother raised a hand, silencing her. “How will you afford an airplane? How will you even
afford fuel? I should never have encouraged this foolish idea by giving you the money to take the flight examination. If your father hadn’t insisted, I would never have done it. Now look where it has led, to precisely where I told him it would. This course has no future, Genevieve. You need to stop dreaming and start living.” She pushed the newspaper down the table.

  Jen glanced at the page. It wasn’t folded to the front page or even the article about the diphtheria outbreak. No, it was carefully folded to an advertisement by a hospital in Grand Rapids.

  “Accepting students for the nursing program,” Jen read.

  Mother nodded. “An honorable and necessary profession.”

  “But I don’t want to be a nurse.”

  “Genevieve, growing up means doing things you don’t want to do. A woman takes responsibility for her life and her family.”

  Jen flinched. Maybe Ruth and Sam’s somber expressions did center on the decline in business at the dress shop. Maybe the family needed a steady income. She stared at the remainder of her soup, no longer hungry.

  Mother threw out the winning card. “Your father would be proud if you became a nurse. If not for nurses, he would have suffered greatly. He always said that he owed his life to their care. It’s a noble calling, Genevieve, one you should seriously consider.”

  Jen bit her lip. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Pray upon it,” Mother counseled. “Spend some time seeking the Lord’s guidance, and in the meantime, write a letter of application. It won’t hurt, and it will give you the option to enter the program should the Lord lead you in that direction. I believe the advertisement says students can enter the program in March. Letters of application must be received by next Friday. That gives you a few days to compose and send the letter.”

  Mother was dead serious this time. Jen could only change her mind if she could get Jack to pay her for her work on the expedition. He would never do that. Neither would the chief subscriber. Mr. Kensington might pay for a first-rate pilot to join the expedition, but he would never pay for a supply clerk.

  She would have to write the letter of application to appease Mother and pray the program would not accept her.

  * * *

  The next day, Dan and Jack Hunter attempted the test flight again. The clouds hung low on the unseasonably warm day. They lifted off without trouble and made a broad circuit before the left engine coughed. That put an abrupt end to the flight. Jack brought the big plane down without incident and rolled her into the barn, but they discovered icing when they tore into the carburetor.

  The right engine, on the other hand, had no icing at all.

  Hunter wiped his forehead. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Dan didn’t, either. “The conditions were perfect for icing. Temperature just above freezing at ground level, low clouds and mist. Either they both should have iced or neither of them.”

  “Exactly.” Hunter crawled off the ladder and tossed the wrench on the worktable. “Why just the left engine? It makes no sense.”

  “Maybe we consider this an anomaly and test it again.”

  Hunter gave him a sharp look. “Maybe you want to risk your life, but I don’t. Both could ice next time. Then we end up splattered on the ground. I escaped one of those crashes and don’t want to try it a second time.”

  Dan was beginning to wonder if this expedition would ever get off the ground. Thanks to the roof collapse on his father’s barn, he was into Kensington for a lot of cash. On the air-show circuit, Dan Wagner either delivered, or he took no fee. If weather or airplane trouble grounded him, he refused any money above expenses, much to his manager’s irritation. That unwritten rule had garnered Dan the overwhelming support of promoters, though.

  Since he’d already drawn an advance from Kensington, he either had to deliver the promised polar attempt or repay the man. That meant draining his savings and heading back to the air-show circuit.

  “Are you calling a halt to the polar attempt?” He blew out in frustration. “I have a lot riding on this. There’s still time to get a bid in for the airmail route.” He’d have to do it without the new engine, but it was better than stunt flying.

  Hunter wiped his jaw with the rag. “It wouldn’t hurt to send in a bid. If we can’t get the engines working properly by the end of the month, you can pull out.”

  “I doubt Kensington will accept those terms.”

  “Kensington doesn’t have to know. It’ll only come into play if this project collapses.”

  This time Dan scrubbed his chin. “I suppose that’s the safe route, but I already got an advance from Kensington. I’d have to pay that back, and I wanted to put my savings toward a new engine.”

  “Tough decision. Hendrick and I will do our best to figure out this icing problem, but I can’t make any guarantees.”

  “That’s the trouble. No guarantees. Not here or anywhere.” Dan groused about the situation, but he would play it safe and prepare a bid. If they got the engines working, he wouldn’t send it in. “Now let’s figure out this icing problem. The left engine’s carburetor iced. The right engine didn’t. Why?”

  “They’re not running at the same temperature.” That feminine voice belonged to Jen Fox.

  Dan felt a quickening of his pulse and the irrational desire to know if she’d come here to see him or if she was just interested in the engine test.

  Hunter swiveled toward her. “What are you doing here on a Saturday?”

  “Watching your test flight.” Her expressive hands were tucked in the pockets of that ragged mackinaw. “The engine started sputtering when you reached altitude.”

  “I adjusted the fuel mixture,” Hunter said.

  She shook her head. “It’s not the fuel mixture. That sounds different.”

  “Sounds?” Dan asked.

  “The cough from a bad fuel mix is different from when the engine is starved for fuel. It’s more like too lean a mix, but not quite the same.”

  Dan looked at Hunter. He must think Jen was crazy, too. There wasn’t a difference in the sound. That was all her imagination. “They sound the same to me.”

  “That’s because you’re in the plane.” She looked at him as if he should have known this. “It’s hard to hear the difference when those engines are roaring in your cotton-stuffed ears.”

  Cotton-stuffed ears indeed. She probably figured his head was stuffed with cotton, too. “I can hear perfectly well.”

  She rolled her eyes and put her efforts into convincing Hunter, who for some reason seemed to find this amusing. After a long explanation, she reiterated her observation that the left engine must be running too cool. “If you’d been here, you would have heard it.”

  “What do you suggest?” Hunter said. “I can’t be in the plane and on the ground at the same time.”

  “Have Wagner take it up, then. I’ll ride copilot.”

  “You?” Dan sputtered. “You haven’t even done grass cutting yet. What qualifies you to ride copilot?”

  “I know the engines.”

  “Then you should be on the ground,” he insisted. “Not in the air where, as you just said, you wouldn’t be able to hear the engines correctly.” If she thought she was going to talk him into giving her flight lessons, she was mistaken.

  She crossed her arms and tapped her toe. “Jack asked how he could hear it. Since you don’t believe my report, I’m giving you an alternative.”

  “A lousy alternative.” He crossed his arms, too. “If you know so much about the engines, then you’d also know what the problem is.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  “Then tell us.” He was getting tired of this game.

  “I will if you’d give me a chance.”

  Dan snorted. “I’ve given you every chance in the world, and you’ve led us on some wild-goose chase over h
ow an engine sounds different depending on the problem. All right, Miss Fox. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “The cowling.”

  “The what?” Dan and Hunter said at the same time.

  “Have you checked the cold-weather cowling? Maybe the one on the left engine isn’t quite the same as the one on the right.”

  “Brilliant,” Hunter muttered. “I’ll get Hendrick on it right away.”

  Dan had his doubts. The cowling looked perfectly fine. No dents or dings. Nothing that would point to a problem.

  “Thanks, Jen.” Hunter patted his leather jacket. “That reminds me. I’ve got something for you, Dan.” Finding nothing, he went over to the worktable and hunted around until he located a greasy envelope. He tossed it toward Dan.

  He caught it. Who would be writing him? Then he noticed it hadn’t been stamped or postmarked. In fact, only his name was scrawled on the small ivory parchment envelope. He ripped it open and pulled out an invitation.

  “Valentine’s Day Ball?” he asked Hunter.

  The pilot nodded. “We’re both invited. It’s an annual event for the well-heeled. A good chance to rub elbows with potential subscribers.”

  Dan groaned. “I don’t dance.”

  “No one will force you.” Hunter grinned. “It is a great opportunity, though. Mayor Kensington is inviting several interested parties. It would mean a lot to me.”

  Dan had no choice but to accept, though the evening would be deadly dull. “It’s not my cup of tea, but I’ll do it for the sake of the expedition.”

  “Great.” Hunter’s grin expanded. “It won’t be that awful, especially if you invite someone interesting, like, say, Miss Fox.”

  Dan instinctively glanced in her direction. She had backed away, scowling, but the moment he spotted her, she darted into the office and slammed the door.