Love by Design. Christine Johnson

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      “Old is fine. It’s bound to be in better shape than mine.”

      “All right.” Beatrice flinched at the screeching and squealing coming from the nursery upstairs. “Excuse me.” Her heels tapped across the slate to the thick carpet at the base of the staircase. “Branford! Tillie! That’s enough. Your Aunt Jen is visiting.”

      “Auntie Jen, Auntie Jen,” Jen’s nephew and niece cried in high-pitched voices. The squeals of delight were soon followed by the clatter of two sets of small feet racing down the stairs.

      “I’m sorry,” Beatrice apologized, though she knew full well that her children would come running the minute she mentioned Jen was here. “You know how much they love their aunt’s company. I’ll look for an appropriate gown while you spend time with them.”

      Seconds later, five-year-old Tillie and three-year-old Branford grabbed Jen by the hands and dragged her upstairs to the nursery. Books and dolls and wooden blocks were strewn across the floor. After Jen played a game of jacks with her nephew, ensuring he won, she received an invitation to a tea party from Tillie. Thankfully Beatrice returned before Jen had to join her niece and three dolls for the formal affair.

      “I’ve laid out a few gowns that I think might work,” Beattie said as they walked across the hallway to the bedroom. Five dresses were lined up on top of the quilt. Every one of them was covered with lace or ruffles or bows.

      Jen cringed. “These aren’t exactly my style.”

      “You want to look nice for all those expedition supporters, don’t you?” Beattie’s tone made it perfectly clear that she doubted even one subscriber was invited.

      Jen saw no reason to confirm her sister’s suspicions, even if it meant wearing a ghastly dress covered in ruffles. She looked for the least frilly gown. “Maybe we are celebrating something else.”

      “Oh! I almost forgot. Today was the day you were taking the examination, wasn’t it? Darcy mentioned it earlier this week when she stopped to look at Branford’s and Tillie’s old baby clothes. So, how did it go?”

      “I passed.”

      “You did?” If at all possible, Beattie looked more surprised than when Jen had asked to borrow a dress. “Congratulations.” The automatic response lacked warmth.

      Beattie had never liked airplanes. She didn’t understand her friend Darcy’s interest in aviation and couldn’t believe she continued to fly after crashing twice. From the first time Jen had mentioned her desire to fly, Beatrice had tried to talk her out of it. The reasons varied—unladylike, too dangerous, unbecoming—but the message was always the same.

      “Flying is safer now,” Jen reassured her.

      Instead of responding, Beattie picked up a garnet-colored velvet gown. “This one would suit your coloring.”

      Despite the hideous gown, Jen was glad for the change of subject. “It has lace. You know I don’t like lace.”

      “There’s only a little.”

      “There must be ten yards of it around the waist and neck and hem.”

      Beattie, the fair beauty of the family, pursed her heart-shaped mouth. “When did you say the dinner was? If there’s enough time, you could ask Ruth to remove the lace.”

      “The dinner is tonight.” Jen tossed down the gown she was holding. “These are all too frilly for me. Do you have something...plainer?” That was probably a futile hope. Beatrice had always chosen the most elaborate, feminine styles.

      “My everyday maternity dress.”

      “Definitely not.” She held up the garnet-colored gown. Though it was a couple years old, it had the dropped waist currently in fashion. With Jen’s greater height, it fell at exactly the right length. Beattie was right about the color suiting her, but she would feel ridiculous with all that lace.

      Beattie shooed away Tillie, who had come to watch the spectacle, and turned back to Jen. “Perhaps you could cover the lace. A sash around the waist might help. Or a cardigan. It is winter. A sweater would not be out of place except at the most formal occasions. Is this formal?”

      “No.” Darcy and Jack Hunter definitely would not host a formal dinner. Given that Dan Wagner wore an old Stetson and Levi’s to the flight school, she doubted he’d appear in a tuxedo or tails. “Maybe I should wear my Sunday dress.”

      “Take this one, too. If you decide not to wear it, nothing is lost. At least you’ll have a choice.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “Who is he?”

      Jen felt a flush of heat. “No one.” What was wrong with her? She never blushed. Never. “I didn’t say anything about a gentleman coming to dinner.”

      “You didn’t have to. The fact that you want to wear a pretty dress says it all. Come now, you can tell me.”

      “Like I said, it’s just a dinner. And a celebration.”

      “Mmm-hmm. And who will be sharing that celebration?”

      Jen sighed. Since Darcy was Beattie’s closest friend, she’d find out soon enough. “Dan Wagner.”

      “Dan Wagner?” Beatrice frowned. “Who is that?”

      “Daring Dan? Surely you’ve heard of him.”

      Beattie shook her head.

      “He’s only the top stunt pilot in the world.”

      Beattie blanched. “Stunt pilot? Like Jack?”

      “Jack doesn’t do stunts. As far as I know, he’s only been a test pilot and a flight instructor. Nothing as exciting as doing loop-de-loops and the death drop.”

      “Death drop?” Beattie gasped.

      Jen closed her eyes and envisioned doing the death drop with Dan Wagner. “That and so much more.”

      “I see.” Beatrice’s voice hardened. “I thought you had grown up.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “That you’d stopped playing around with dangerous preoccupations.”

      “This isn’t a preoccupation.” Jen fought back. “This is my dream.”

      “What about Mother? Do you ever think about her?”

      “Of course. She’s the one who gave me the money to study for the examination.”

      Beatrice frowned. “What about the rest of the family? We need you. We couldn’t bear another loss.” She paused, probably to swallow the same knot that had formed in Jen’s throat. “You need to focus on the right priorities. Flying stunts is foolish.”

      “No, it’s not. Daddy wanted me to learn to fly. It was our dream.”

      “Daddy isn’t here anymore.”

      Jen reeled at her sister’s insensitivity. “Maybe СКАЧАТЬ