“He brought you here,” Nancy answered her, “because I hear you're one of the best pilots he's ever seen. You must be terrific, Cassie. Desmond doesn't impress easily. And he hasn't stopped talking about you since he saw you at the air show. But he brought you here because you're a woman too, and not just an amazing pilot. And to Desmond, that's very important.” In some ways, women were important to him. In others, they mattered not at all. But Nancy didn't explain that to Cassie. Desmond Williams liked to have women around when they served his purposes, but he attached himself to no one. “He thinks that women sell planes better than men because they're more exciting. He thinks that women-women like you, that is-are the future of aviation. You're a terrific press bonus for him, and a great boost for public relations.” She didn't tell Cassie it was also because of her looks, but that was part of it. She was a real beauty, and if she hadn't been, she wouldn't have been there. Nancy knew he had been looking for someone like her for a long time, and he had talked to a lot of female pilots, and gone to a lot of air shows before he found her. This was an idea he had had for years, even before George Putnam discovered Amelia Earhart.

“But why me? Who cares about me?” Cassie asked innocently, still looking overwhelmed in spite of Nancy's encouragement and explanations. She still didn't understand it. She wasn't stupid, she was naive, and it was difficult for most people to conceive of a mind like Desmond Williams's. Nancy knew a lot about him, from her husband, before he died, testing one of Williams's planes, from the other pilots he knew, and from her own experiences since Skip had died. Desmond Williams had done a lot to help her. In many ways, he'd been a godsend. Yet there were things about him that were unnerving. There was a single-mindedness about him that was frightening at times. When he wanted something, or when he thought something would be good for the company, he would stop at nothing to get it.

He had been very good to her when Skip died, and he had done everything possible for her and her daughter. He had told her that she and Jane were part of the “family,” that Williams Aircraft would take care of them forever. He had opened a bank account for them, and all of their needs would be provided for. Jane's education was assured, and Nancy's pension. Skip had died for Desmond Williams, and he would never forget it. He had even bought a small house for them. And drawn up a contract. She was to remain an employee of Williams Aircraft for the next twenty years, doing projects such as these, nothing too unreasonable, or terribly wearing. But projects that required intelligence and loyalty. He reminded her subtly of how much he'd done for them, and suddenly she knew she had no choice but to do what he wanted. Skip had left them nothing but debts and sweet memories. And now, after all he'd done for her and Jane, Desmond Williams owned her. He kept her in a pretty little gilded cage, he made good use of her, he was fair, or at least he seemed to be, but he never let her forget that he owned her. She couldn't go anywhere, she couldn't leave; if she did, they'd have nothing again. She had no real training for anything, she'd be lucky to get a job, and Janie would never go to college. But if she stayed, she could keep what he'd given her. And Williams saw something useful in her, just as he did in Cassie. And what he wanted he got. He bought it, fair and square, and he paid a high price for it. But there was no mistaking his ownership once the contract was signed, and the purchase complete. He was a smart man, and he always knew what he wanted.

“Everyone will care about you eventually,” Nancy said quietly. She knew more about his plans than she intended to share with Cassie. He was a genius at dealing with the press, and creating a huge concept from a very small one. “The American public will come to love you. Women and planes are what's ahead of us now. Williams Aircraft makes the finest planes that fly, but to have that brought home to the public through your eyes, through you, is a very powerful thing. To have you identified with his planes will give them a special appeal, a special magic.” And Desmond Williams knew that. It was that that he wanted from Cassie. He'd been looking for years for a woman who embodied the American dream, young, beautiful, a simple girl with great looks, a good mind, and a brilliant flier. And much to everyone's amazement, he had finally found her in Cassie O'Malley. And what better fate for her? What more could she possibly have wanted? Nancy knew Cassie was a lucky girl, and even if there were strings attached eventually, even if he wanted lifetime fealty, he would make it up to her. She'd be famous and rich, and a legend, if she played her cards right. Even in Nancy's eyes, knowing just how tightly those strings could be tied, she thought that Cassie O'Malley was to be envied. Desmond was going to make her a star like no other.

“It's so strange though, when you think of it,” Cassie said, looking thoughtfully at Nancy. “I'm no one. I'm not jean Batten, or Amy Johnson, or anyone important. I'm a kid from Illinois who won four prizes at the local air show. So what?” she asked modestly, finally taking a bite of a perfectly made chicken sandwich.

“You're not ‘just a kid’ anymore,” Nancy said wisely, “or you won't be after five o'clock today.” She knew just how carefully Desmond had begun laying the groundwork from the moment she'd signed the contract. “And just how do you think those other women got started? Without someone like Desmond to publicize them, they'd never have happened.” Cassie listened, but she didn't agree with her. Their reputations were built on skill, not just on publicity, but Nancy clearly believed in what Williams was doing. “Earhart was what George Putnam made of her. Desmond has always been fascinated by that. He always felt that she was a lot less of a pilot than Putnam made her out to be, and maybe he was right.” Skip had thought so too, and as Nancy thought of it, she looked at Cassie sadly. Cassie was intrigued by Nancy, though there was a lot she liked about her, and yet there was a part of her that seemed very removed. She seemed both enthusiastic about what lay ahead for Cassie, and maybe even a little bit jealous. She made it all sound like such a great deal, and she spoke of “Desmond” as though she knew him better than she would ever have admitted. Watching her, Cassie couldn't help wondering if there was anything between them, or maybe she just admired him a great deal, and wanted to be sure that Cassie appreciated everything he had done for her. It was all a lot to absorb and analyze in one afternoon, as they sorted through Cassie's things, and Nancy tried to explain the importance of “marketing” to her. Like Desmond, Nancy thought it was everything. It was what made people buy the products other people made. In this case, planes. Cassie was part of a larger plan. What she was, what she would be, was a tool to sell airplanes. It was an odd concept to her, and when the hairdresser arrived, she was still trying to understand it.

Nancy had told her about her husband by then, and Jane. She had explained, simply, that Skip had died in an accident the year before during a test flight over Las Vegas. She spoke about it very calmly, but there was something ravaged in her eyes when she spoke of him. In a way, her life had ended when he died, or she felt that way. But in a number of ways, Desmond Williams had changed that.

“He's been very good to me,” she said quietly, “and to my daughter,” Cassie nodded, watching her, and then the hairdresser distracted both of them with her plans for Cassie's bright red mane. She wanted to give it a good trim, and have her wear it long, like Lauren Bacall. She even said she saw a similarity, which made Cassie guffaw. She knew Nick would have really laughed if he'd heard that, or at least she thought so. But Nancy took the hairdresser very seriously, and approved of everything she wanted.

“What exactly is it they want from me?” Cassie asked with a nervous sigh, as the hairdresser clipped and snipped with determination, and Nancy watched her.

She managed to glance at her new charge with a smile, and answered her as best she could.

“They want you to look pretty, sound smart, behave yourself, and fly like an angel. That about sums it up,” She smiled again and Cassie grinned at the description. Nancy made it sound surprisingly simple.

“That shouldn't be too hard. The flying part anyway; the behaving ought to be okay if it means don't fall down drunk or run around with guys. I'm not sure what ‘sound smart’ is going to mean, that could be rough, and ‘pretty’ could be hopeless,” Cassie grinned at her new friend. When she stopped feeling terrified over it, it was all very exciting. How did things like this happen? It was almost like being in a movie. There was a feeling of unreality to it that she just couldn't escape now.

“I get the feeling you haven't looked in the mirror in a while,” Nancy said honestly, and Cassie nodded.

“No time. I've been too busy flying and repairing planes at my father's airport.”

“You'll have to learn to look in the mirror now.” This was why Williams had so much faith in Nancy. She was tactful, ladylike, intelligent, she did what she was told, and she knew what was expected. Desmond Williams knew his people well and he always knew exactly what he was buying. He had never doubted for a moment that Nancy would be useful to him when they had signed their contract. “Just smile and think that a few photographs won't hurt you. And the rest of the time you can fly anything you want. It's an opportunity almost no one gets, Cassie. You're very lucky,” Nancy encouraged her. She knew just what flying fanatics liked, and how to cajole Cassie into doing the things she didn't. Like the press conferences she was scheduled for, the interviews, the newsreels, and the parties Desmond wanted her to be seen at. Miss Fitzpatrick had even provided a list of escorts.

“Why do I have to go to those?” Cassie asked suspiciously about the parties.

“Because people have to get to know your name. Mr. Williams went to a lot of trouble to have you included, and you really can't disappoint him.” She said it surprisingly firmly.

“Oh,” Cassie said, looking more than a little daunted. She didn't want to seem ungrateful, and she was already beginning to trust Nancy's opinions. It was all happening so quickly, and Nancy was her only friend here. And what Nancy said was true, Williams was doing a lot for her, and maybe she owed it to him to accept his invitations. Nonetheless, to Cassie, looking at the list, the social obligations seemed endless. But Desmond Williams knew exactly what he was doing. And so did Nancy.

When the hairdresser was finished, they all liked Cassie's hair. She suddenly looked more sophisticated, but it was both elegant and simple. And then the hairdresser helped Cassie to do her makeup. At three-fifteen she took a bath and at three forty-five, she put on her own underwear, and the silk stockings that had been left (or her. And when she put on a dark green suit at four o'clock,. she looked like a million dollars.

“Wow!” Nancy said, adjusting Cassie's blouse carefully and checking that the shoes matched her suit and handbag.

“Silk stockings!” Cassie beamed. “Wait till I tell Mom!” She was grinning like a kid and Nancy laughed and asked if she had any earrings. Cassie looked blank and then shook her head. Her mom had a pair that had been her mother's, but Cassie had never owned any. Nor had her sisters.

“I'll have to tell Mr. Williams.” Nancy made a note to herself. She needed a string of pearls too. He had told Nancy exactly the look he wanted. No greasy overalls or work clothes. They could save that for one rare shot, maybe for Life, as part of a bigger shoot. But the look he wanted for her on the ground was pure Lady. Although all Nancy could think of as she looked at her was Rita Hayworth.

Desmond Williams arrived promptly at four o'clock, and he was very pleased with what he saw. He handed Cassie some photographs and details of the Phaeton and Starlifter she was going to fly that week, just so she could familiarize herself with them. And the following week she had some important tests to do on a high-altitude plane he was trying to convert for the Army Air Corps. But as she looked at the photographs, she couldn't help thinking of Nancy's husband. What if Desmond's planes were too dangerous, or the risks he wanted her to take were too great? Like all good test pilots, she tempered blind courage with caution. She wasn't afraid to fly anything, she decided, as she looked longingly at a photograph of the experimental Phaeton.