The army driver was back in the car, the windows rolled down. He sat motionless, staring straight ahead while she hurriedly untacked Ferguson and put him back in his stall.
The empty glass was sitting on the porch railing, and she took it inside, the letter still in her hand. She read it once again, slower this time to make sure she got it right. It was from the Lux Corporation. They had reviewed her request for sponsorship and were happy to announce that they wanted her for a cross-country six-week advertising campaign. They would contact her soon for details.
Aubrey could envision herself flying into small town fairs, her new plane painted with Lux Soap on the side. That would seem tacky, but anything to get back up into the air again. She wondered how much they would sponsor her for and what plane she could afford. There was a monthly newsletter on planes for sale, but her subscription had lapsed. After her crash in Ohio, she hadn’t seen the point. The depression she’d fallen into had left her with an understanding of what her father was going through, if only in minuscule proportion.
She would have to see about renewing her subscription. The address was upstairs in her room. She could rip off a letter and get it to them when she and her father went into town. She would also cable back a reply to the Lux Corporation; she wouldn’t waste time with ordinary mail. Their proposal demanded immediate response despite the cost of a telegram, lest they find some other fabulous aviatrix to sell their soap nationwide. “Get on it, Aubrey,” she told herself.
The double doors of her father’s study were flung open, startling her. Colonel Endeavours led Arthur Colins into the kitchen.
“Mail, Father.” She handed him the other three letters. He scarcely glanced at them.
“Aubrey, Arthur here wants to—”
“And this came, too.” She giddily handed him the letter from New York. He ignored it as well.
“Read it, Father. It’s from the Lux Corporation, out of New York, no less,” she said, and winked at Arthur.
“Aubrey...”
“They want to sponsor me—a huge nationwide campaign. I’m going to get another airplane. Isn’t that great?”
“Aubrey, please listen to me,” her father said. “Arthur here wants to talk to you.”
“Sure. But read the letter, please.”
“Aubrey, damn you—listen. Enough about the Lux Corporation and airplanes. Arthur has come all this way to speak to you.”
“Eddie, it’s okay,” Arthur said placatingly. “Aubrey is excited. Maybe I should come back later. I’m in town for the night.”
“Nonsense. You’ll stay here.”
“It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle Arthur,” said Aubrey. “We can chat. I just got caught up in the whole thing. We can go out on the porch.”
“Maybe a walk would be better,” Arthur suggested.
“Sure, if you want. I’ll grab my hat.”
Her father retreated to his study and left them to it.
The cloud cover from the morning had vanished, leaving a striking blue sky and blazing sun. It was warm out amongst the growing corn with no shade whatsoever. Aubrey finally focused on her uncle, forgetting momentarily about the exciting news from New York.
“How is your father?” Arthur said. They were a hundred feet from the house, past the barn, walking slowly. They heard Ferguson; she’d get to him later, right after Arthur left. She would ride out the excitement of the news from New York and spend every minute she could attending to her beloved friend before she left.
“Father is okay, I guess.”
“Really?”
“No,” she admitted. “He’s changed. He doesn’t speak much to me or to the Millersons,” she said, meaning their next-door neighbours. “He doesn’t seem to have any interest in anything at all anymore.”
“Just getting old.”
“You and he are the same age. Are you losing interest in things?”
“Heavens, no. I never stop. I’ve got more work than I can handle. Which brings me to why I’m here. Aubrey, I didn’t come just to pay a call on your father. It’s you I came to talk to. We were very impressed with your trip to Europe. The things you did, what you went through. The way you handled yourself. The report was most impressive.” He shook his head. “Your father would kill me if he knew what we’d gotten you involved with.”
“I’ll never tell. I know how important it is I keep it a secret. You can count on me.”
“I know I can. That’s why I want you to come work for me.”
“What?” She stopped dead in her tracks. “For the army?”
“I’m not really in the army anymore. It’s just a courtesy rank; helps cut through the red tape in Washington. I’m with the government.”
“I figured as much. That mission I went on was top secret. What government work, then? Are you a G-man? That’s exciting.”
Along with the newsreels she’d seen about Nazi Germany, there had also been plenty of press on the formation of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, led by J. Edgar Hoover. The whole country was captivated by Hoover’s personal war on crime. Dillinger, Baby Face Nelson, Machine Gun Kelly. She knew all their names.
“No, I’m in intelligence.”
“Spies. Like that British fellow I met in Belgium.”
He chuckled and they continued walking. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at a clump of dirt.
“He was quite impressed with you as well.”
“Wish I could say it was mutual.”
“An agent in the field is under a lot of pressure. I’ve known him a long time, Aubrey. He’s a good man.”
“I’ll take your word for it. So, what sort of work do you do?”
“The prevailing attitude in Washington is that gentlemen don’t read other gentlemen’s mail.”
“Is that what you do, steam open letters?”
“Not quite. But our attitude to spying is changing. It has to. Most nations, both our friends and our enemies, are engaged in espionage. You speak French, don’t you?”
“Fluently. Mother tutored me every day.”
“I never quite picked it up while I was
