Blue Skies (19 page)

 

The alarm went off at 5:00 a.m. on Monday morning as usual and Nikki was up like a shot. She wondered how long it would feel like this—the energy. After working most of the weekend, she should be exhausted. But there it was—the sense of urgency to get to it. And today especially so. This was the day she began to assemble her primary team. Her first class of pilots.

Of all the different jobs she'd held in the airline business, she'd never participated in hiring. She'd done work in training and standards, in engineering and flight control; she'd been on scheduling and compensation and work-rules committees, but never hiring. And now the pilots she chose would be the first in this new airline…all captains…the leaders of this work force.

She sat on the edge of the bed, April still gently snoring in the bed across from her. She resisted the urge to reach out and gently brush her pretty brow.

She was counting the days until they could get into the new house; they were climbing all over one another
in this little suite. It was impossible to keep the place neat, and Nikki had never been all that good at housework under any circumstances. She could change the points and plugs on the Stearman with her eyes shut, but she'd never quite figured out how to fold sheets so they didn't look like they'd been rolled up in a ball.

After showering quickly, she stood in front of the mirror, smiling. She was getting pretty good with the blow dryer and curling iron, and even with her makeup. Ha! Who'd have thought?

When she went back to the bedroom, April was sitting up, holding a cup of coffee toward her. “Well,” Nikki said, “what a nice surprise.”

“I made it from the hotel pot instead of the one you brought,” she said. “I can't screw up with those little packets.”

“Delicious,” she said, taking a sip.

“Your hair looks good—aren't you glad I made you do that?” her daughter asked.

“Absolutely. Without you I'd be a hag,” she joked. “And I have to compete with the office dishes.”

“Mom? How did you feel when Grandma left you and Papa?”

Nikki was brought up short. She stealthily glanced at the clock, hoping April wouldn't notice. Why was it her kids never had major life problems at a reasonable time of day? They either waited until after ten at night when she was nodding off, desperate for sleep, or caught her as she was walking out the door, already late.

“Honey, we've talked about that.”

“I know. Just tell me.”

Patience. Kids come first. Besides, she thought, sitting a little taller in her robe, they
will
wait for the chief pilot.

“Okay, here's the deal. Opal was not cut out to be
married to a guy like Papa. I might not have realized that until later, when I was much older, but even when I was nine I knew on some level that she wasn't happy. You know Papa—he's kind of gruff, not very fancy, and God knows he'd never think of taking her out for a nice meal. He wanted to fly, work on planes. Opal didn't even like taking a commercial flight. She still doesn't.

“And Opal is very fancy, very chi-chi. She's also very high maintenance and…well, you know…she requires a lot of attention. She doesn't entertain herself very well. And ever since I can remember, she's been dying. ‘I'll never make forty' and then ‘I'll never make fifty' and ‘The doctor didn't exactly say it was cancer, but he said I shouldn't start any serial novels.'”

“Yeah, what's that all about?” April asked.

“I'm not sure.” Nikki shrugged. “Her mother did die young, but it's probably just an attention-getter. I called her doctor after one of these little comments and he said her health was great. And I don't know if you've noticed, but she's awfully spry for a dying woman.”

“I noticed,” April laughed. “She can shop me to death, and that's saying something.”

“Well, Buck and I could be happy just messing around with the planes all day, every day, but Opal likes to have fun, to go dancing. Can you imagine Papa trying to dance? Lord,” she said, and that even made April chuckle. “I must have been a huge disappointment to her. She couldn't get me in a dress at the point of a gun. And when—”

“But did that make you feel bad?” she asked.

Where is this going? Nikki wondered. “Well, no,
that
didn't. Did I feel bad when she left us? Yes, I remember being so angry with her that when she called, I wouldn't even talk to her. And then she came to visit,” Nikki said
with a laugh—a laugh she didn't have when she was nine, but one that came easily now. “She picked me up, took me straight to her hotel and told me to get in the tub and scrub. Then to the beauty shop to get my hair cut and styled, then to the department store for girl-clothes, then to the photographer to take a mother-daughter picture. I didn't smile for those pictures for at least the first five years. Later, we'd go out to dinner with Dr. Gould, my neurosurgeon stepfather, with whom I never did have a relationship. Finally, I'd go home to Buck, where I could fly, work on engines, play rough with the boys and have a great life.”

She touched April's soft cheek. “If I had to be with one of my parents and not both, they picked the right one for me. In your case, I always felt you'd be better with me than your dad, but that might have just been selfishness on my part.”

“No, you were right. We shouldn't have been with Dad. He was too strict and hard to please. But I understand there was nothing you could do about that. He wouldn't have had it any other way.”

“That's nice of you to say, April. Letting me off the hook like that. I wonder if I'll ever let myself off the hook.”

“Did you ever look forward to Grandma's visits?” she asked.

Nikki sighed deeply. “I missed her, I wanted to see her, I wanted a mother so badly sometimes…But Grandma and I have never had a single thing in common. The things I was most proud of appalled her. The things I cared the least about were very important to her. I don't know how else to explain it.”

“I know,” April said. “I miss Daddy. Sometimes I even cry about it, about him. But really, what a
load,
”
she groaned, making Nikki almost laugh. “So you love Grandma?”

“Of course, honey. All daughters love their mothers. Even when they can't stand them.” She grabbed April's chin. “What's all this about, honey? Questions about Grandma so early in the morning?”

“Oh. I called her,” she said. “I wanted to tell her all about the house. I invited her to come to Vegas as soon as we move in.” Her lips curved into an innocent little smile.

Nikki's features froze. At that moment she felt like strangling her beautiful daughter. “Oh,” she finally said. “And it never occurred to you to run it by me?”

“Heck no,” April said, bounding out of bed and heading for the bathroom. She turned around. “Do I look dumb? You'd have said no.”

“I might not have said no….”

April didn't bother closing the door. “No,” she called out. “You'd have said something like, ‘Let me get everything settled and then I'll phone her, honey.' But you would keep putting it off and off and off.” She flushed the toilet then stuck her head out. “I don't blame you, Mom. But Grandma and I are alike. We like all that chi-chi foo-fooing. I want her to see our new place. I want her to take me shopping. She loves to dress me.”

This was enough to ruin her day, Nikki thought. “Fine. You take care of her, then. Because I don't have time to answer to all her little whims and wants. Understand?”

“Oh, totally,” she said. “And Mom?”

“What?” Nikki demanded, no longer feeling like putting her kids first.

“I think she's going to really like your hair.”

“If she says one thing about my hair, I'll shave my head.”

“Whew. I think you have some issues.”

 

Yes, Nikki had issues. No one knew it better than she did. Simply put, she and Opal had nothing in common. Even the fact that they were both divorced women whose husbands got custody didn't give them any shared ground.

As far as Nikki was concerned, all the wrong things were important to Opal. When April was born, the very first words out of Opal's mouth were, “Oh, thank heavens, she has good skin.” Was she concerned about the baby's health? Her mind? Her hopes and dreams? “Of course I'm concerned about all that,” Opal had said. “If she has problems, I'm sure you'll tell me!”

Opal was superficial. Completely shallow. She wanted nice clothes, nice vacations, nice friends. It was clear to Nikki that you could have a fine appreciation for such things and still not come up empty. Both Carlisle and Dixie were good examples of that—people with good taste, great style and substance to boot. Not so with Opal. She had found herself someone with way more prestige and social standing than Buck and made the switch, never mind that Buck probably could have bought and sold Mayer Gould five times over.

But perhaps the deepest issue was this: Opal never could accept Buck and Nikki as they were. She never appreciated their gifts and talents, which were considerable.

“I placed in the Reno Air Race in my category, Mom!”

“Oh, Nicole, when are you going to do something
about those nails! They might as well be on a boy's hands!”

But April loved her grandma; Opal was the only one she had with Drake's mother and father long gone. So why couldn't Nikki just suck it up and get along with her mother for her daughter's sake?

Well, maybe she could. But it was so difficult…because Nikki had these
issues.

 

The six applicants were waiting in the first-floor lobby, all looking obviously needy. The applicants were all men in the first batch. Nikki had looked hard for some highly competitive women pilots, but in that collection of twelve thousand résumés, only a few had risen to the surface, and they'd be interviewed tomorrow and the next day. There were more in the pile, she had no doubt, but as always the women were way outnumbered by the guys.

One fellow wore a leather blazer with his hair in something of a pompadour. Another was in a pin-striped suit and wingtips, and a couple wore herringbone sport coats with patches on the elbows—the pilot's civilian uniform. One guy was so stiff and military-looking, Nikki nearly saluted him. They ranged in age from thirty to fifty-five. Taking on a fifty-five-year-old was not as dicey as it seemed. At least he wouldn't go looking for a better, higher-paying airline after New Century spent twenty-thousand dollars training him. The thirty-year-old with all that youth and vigor and years ahead of him, he was the greater risk.

But that was old thinking. That was
back in the day
thinking, when there was still a United Airlines paying senior captains close to five hundred thousand to work ten days a month.

The pilots assembled here did have one thing in common—they were all early for their morning interview.

Nikki checked with the security guard to make sure she hadn't falsely labeled anyone, and he confirmed they were all pilot applicants for New Century. So she cut them a break and went over, which was when she spotted Sam Landon.

“You're all here to interview with New Century Airline?” Nikki asked. Nods all around. “Hi,” she said. “I'm Captain Nikki Burgess. Why don't you come upstairs with me and we'll get everyone started.” She stuck her hand out to Sam. “Good to see you, Sam.”

“And you, Captain.”

A couple of the guys smiled, but a few looked confused—could it be? A woman chief pilot? And the stiff guy with the high-and-tight buzz cut looked like he'd just gone into shock.

Nikki shook hands with the men. A pilot name Dick Cleary pushed forward, all confidence and smiles. There was Chris Wagnon, Ken Spencer, Jeff Hayden and Rob Knowles.

“Glad to meet you all. Right this way.”

She might have led them, but Dick was quick to get to her side and walk with her. “Is this still the first class hire?” he asked. And, “How close to certification is NCA? How many planes do you have to start? What's the projected expansion? How much was the initial funding?”

Here's a guy interested in starting with an airline that's going to last, Nikki thought. Ambitious. Strong. And kissing up a bunch.

Of the six, two were very talkative, almost giddy. Three were mute and appeared almost scared, but Sam seemed just plain easy in his skin. Comfortable. Almost
like he could take it or leave it. He had the kind of confidence that came across as total peace of mind.

There was no mistaking their awe when they saw Dixie. She was in charge of their paperwork, which would include a five-year background check and an FAA research for valid licenses and any violations. Also, she would escort them down to Shanna's office, where the head of HR would have her procedural way with them. All through the morning Dixie would do what she did so well—make small talk with them, draw them out, get an idea what kind of pilot each was. Maybe the word was out that the chief pilot was a woman, but the fact that her right arm had been a flight attendant for fifteen years was surely not common knowledge. Perhaps if Dixie were looking for a guy to date, her judgment might not be so sterling, but she had plenty of experience when it came to judging a pilot's personality. She'd taken a lot of cups of coffee to the flight deck, after all.