Tanya laughed. “I’ll be old-fashioned and stick with people. Somehow freight…”

A waitress came to their table. They ordered coffee, Tanya cinnamon toast, and Mel a fried egg sandwich.

When the waitress had gone, Mel grinned. “I guess I started to make a speech. I’m sorry.”

“Maybe you need the practice. You haven’t made many lately.”

“I’m not president of the Airport Operators Council any more. I don’t get to Washington as much.” But it was not the whole reason for not making speeches and being less in the public eye. He suspected Tanya knew it.

Curiously, it was a speech of Mel’s which had brought them together. At one of the rare interline meetings which airlines held, he had talked about coming developments in aviation, and the lag in ground organization compared with progress in the air. He had used the occasion as a practice for a speech he intended to deliver at a national forum a week or so later. Tanya had been among the Trans America contingent, and next day had sent him one of her lower case notes^[30]:

mr. b

spch great. all’v us earthside slaves cheering u 4 admitting airport policy-makers asleep at drawing boards. somebody needed 2 say it. mind suggestion? wd all be more alive if fewer fax, more abt people… passenger, once inside belly (air plane or whale, remember jonah?) thinks only of self, not system much. i’ll bet wilbur felt same way once off ground. wright?

tl

As well as amusing him, the note had caused him to think. It was true, he realized – he had concentrated on facts and systems to the exclusion of people as individuals. He revised his speech notes, shifting the emphasis as Tanya suggested. The result was the most successful presentation he had ever made. It gained him an ovation and was widely reported internationally. Afterward he had telephoned Tanya to thank her. That was when they had started seeing each other.

The thought of Tanya’s first message was a reminder of the note she had sent this evening. “I appreciate that tip about the snow committee report, though I’m curious how you managed to see it before I have.”

“No mystery. It was typed in the Trans America ofifce. I saw our Captain Demerest checking it, and chortling.”

“Vernon showed it to you?”

“No, but he had it spread out, and I can read upside down. Which reminds me, you didn’t answer my question: Why does your brother-in-law dislike you?”

Mel grimaced. “I guess he knows I’m not very keen on him. ”

“If you wanted to,” Tanya said, “you could tell him now. There’s the great man himself.” She nodded toward the cashier’s desk, and Mel turned his head.

Captain Vernon Demerest of Trans America was counting out change as he paid a bill. A tall, broadshouldered, with a striking figure, he towered above others around him. He was dressed informally in a Harris tweed jacket and impeccably creased slacks, yet managed to convey an impression of authority – “like a Regular Army General,” Mel thought, “temporarily in civilian clothes.” Demerest’s strong, aristocratic features were unsmiling as he addressed a four-striper Trans America captain – in uniform – who was with him. It appeared that Demerest was giving instructions; the other nodded. Captain Demerest glanced briefly around the coffee shop and, observing Mel and Tanya, gave a cool nod.

Then, checking his watch, and with a final word to the other captain, he walked out.

“He appeared in a hurry,” Tanya said. “Though wherever he’s going, it won’t be for long. Captain D. is taking Flight Two to Rome tonight.”

Mel smiled. “The Golden Argosy? ”

“Yes. I see, sir, you read our advertising.”

“It’s hard not to.” Mel was aware, as were millions of others who admired the four-color double page spreads^[31] in Life, Look, the Post, and other national magazines, that Trans America Flight Two – The Golden Argosy – was the airline’s excellent, prestige flight. He also knew that only the line’s most senior captains ever commanded it.

“It seems to be agreed,” Mel said, “that Vernon is one of the finest pilots.”

“I agree. Mr. Youngquist, our president, said, ‘Keep that arrogant guy out of my hair^[32], but book me on his flights.’ “

Mel chuckled. He wondered idly where his brother-in-law was going at the moment, and if it involved one of his amorous adventures. Looking toward the central lobby, Mel saw that Captain Demerest had already been swallowed up in the crowds outside.

Across the table, Tanya smoothed her skirt with a swift stroking gesture which Mel had noticed before and liked. Tanya looked very feminine in uniform.

Some airlines, Mel knew, let their senior passenger agents out of uniform, but Trans America liked the authority which its blue and gold showed. Two gold rings edged with white, on Tanya’s cuffs, proclaimed her Job and seniority.

As if guessing his thoughts, she said, “I may be out of uniform soon.”

“Why?”

“Our District Transportation Manager is being transferred to New York. The Assistant D.T.M.^[33] is moving up, and I’ve applied for his job.”

He looked at her with a mixture of admiration and curiosity. “I believe you’ll get it. And that won’t be the end, either.”

Her eyebrows went up. “You think I might make vice-president?”

“I believe you could. That is, if it’s the kind of thing you want.”

Tanya said softly, “I’m not sure if it’s what I want, or not.”

The waitress brought their order. When they were alone again, Tanya said, “Sometimes we – working girls – don’t get a lot of choice. If you’re not satisfied to stay in the job you have through pension time – and lots of us aren’t – the only way out is up.”

“You’re excluding marriage?”

She selected a piece of cinnamon toast. “I’m not excluding it. But it didn’t work for me once, and it may not again. Besides which, there aren’t many takers for used bride with baby.”

“You might find an exception.”

“I might win a lottery. Speaking from experience, Mel dear, I can tell you that men like their women unencumbered. Ask my ex-husband. If you can find him, that is; I never could.”

“He left you after your baby was born?”

“Goodness, no! I think it was on a Thursday I told him I was pregnant. On Friday when I came home from work, Roy’s clothes were gone. So was Roy.”

“You haven’t seen him since?”

She shook her head. “In the end, it made the divorce much simpler – desertion^[34]; no complications like another woman. I have to be fair, though. Roy wasn’t all bad. He didn’t empty our joint checking account. I must admit I’ve sometimes wondered if it was kindness, or if he just forgot. Anyway, I had all that eighty dollars to myself.”

Mel said, “You’ve never mentioned that before.”

“What for?”

“For sympathy, maybe.”

She shook her head. “If you understood me better, you’d know the reason I’m telling you now is because I don’t need sympathy. Everything has worked out fine.” Tanya smiled. “I may even become an airline vice-president. You just said so.”

At the table next to theirs, a woman said loudly, “Oh! Look at the time!”

Instinctively, Mel did. It was three quarters of an hour since he had left Danny Farrow at the Snow Control Desk. Getting up from the table, he told Tanya, “Don’t go away. I have to make a call.”

There was a telephone at the cashier’s counter, and Mel dialed one of the Snow Desk numbers. Danny Farrow’s voice said, “Hold it,” then, a few moments later, returned on the line.

“I was going to call you,” Danny said. “I just had a report on that stuck 707 of Aéreo-Mexican.”

“Go ahead.”

“You knew Mexican had asked TWA for help?”

“Yes.”

“Well, they’ve got trucks, cranes, God knows what out there now. The runway and taxiway are blocked off completely, but they still haven’t shifted the damn airplane. Finally TWA has sent for Joe Patroni.”

Mel said, “I’m glad to hear it.”

Joe Patroni was airport maintenance chief for TWA, and a born troubleshooter^[35]. He was also a down-to-earth, dynamic character and a close friend of Mel’s.

“If anyone can get that airplane moved tonight,” Mel conceded, “it’ll be Joe.”

“Oh, a bit of good news,” Danny said, “we found that United food truck.”

“The driver okay?”

“He was unconscious under the snow. Motor was still running, and there was carbon monoxide^[36]. But they got an inhalator on him, and he’ll be all right.”

“Good! I’m going out on the field now to do some checking for myself. I’ll radio you from there.”

Tanya was still at the table when Mel returned, though preparing to go.

“Hold on,” he said, “I’m coming, too.”

She motioned to his untouched sandwich. “How about dinner? If that’s what it was.”

“This will do for now.” He bolted a mouthful^[37], washed it down hastily with coffee, and picked up his topcoat. “Anyway, I’m having dinner downtown.”

As Mel paid their check, two Trans America ticket agents entered the coffee shop. One was the supervising agent whom Mel had spoken to earlier. Observing Tanya, he came across.

“Excuse me, Mr. Bakersfeld… Mrs. Livingston, the D.T.M.’s looking for you. He has another problem. There is a stowaway – on Flight 80 from Los Angeles.”

“Is that all?” Tanya appeared surprised. Aerial stowaways – though all airlines had them – were seldom a cause of great concern.

“This one’s unusual,” the agent said. “There’s been a radio message from the captain, and a security guard has gone to the gate to meet the flight. Anyway, Mrs. Livingston, whatever the trouble is, they’re calling for you.” With a friendly nod, he went off to rejoin his companion.

Mel walked with Tanya from the coffee shop into the central lobby. They stopped at the elevator which would take Mel to the basement garage where his car was parked.

“Drive carefully out there,” she cautioned. “Don’t get in the way of any airplanes.”

“If I do, I’m sure you’ll hear about it.” He shrugged into the heavy topcoat. “Your stowaway sounds interesting. I’ll try to drop by before I leave, to find out what it’s all about.” He hesitated, then added, “It’ll give me a reason to see you again tonight.”

They were close together. As one, each reached out and their hands touched. Tanya said softly, “Who needs a reason?”

In the elevator, going down, he could still feel the warm smoothness of her flesh, and hear her voice.