Blue Skies (27 page)

Nikki had nightmare visions of charm school, froufrou clothes and no airplanes. She cleaned up her act then and there. Her mother got on her every nerve, but she was as polite as possible.

“But what?” April whispered.

“I was just remembering. I wonder if she paid surprise visits or if Papa didn't tell me she was coming because I was so hateful to everyone when I faced my annual makeover and photo session and dinners out with Opal and Mayer.”

“Grandpa,” April said, for though he was a step-grandfather, April had considered Mayer Gould as one of her grandpas.

“But you know, she stayed in a hotel when she came to town, because she'd never stay with your papa. After I married your dad, she'd stay with us for a few days if she visited alone, but if Mayer was along, it was always a hotel. This is her first visit since I've had a house of my own. I have a sinking feeling her routine is going to—”

The door swung open. “You have a most marvelous view of the city, Nicole,” she said.

“Would you like to have a glass of wine, Mother? On the patio?”

“I would be delighted. And what are we doing for dinner?”

“Well, since I wasn't expecting you, I haven't made any plans and—”

“I'll bet that nice young homosexual man—”

“Mother!”
she snapped. She took a breath. “I don't want to fight with you the very moment you've arrived,
but you must stop referring to Carlisle that way. Use his
name.
”

“Well. Gracious. Do you think I don't know what's what? I live in San Francisco, you know. And I don't dislike homosexuals. Though I find some of them tiresome. But not George or Frank—I rely on them for everything….”

“When you speak of Carlisle, use his name. Please.”

Opal made some pooh-poohing sounds, but she didn't argue.

Nikki went for the wine, and in the refrigerator she found that Carlisle had indeed left something. It appeared to be his famous chicken pesto on penne. What a peach.

She poured two glasses. “And another thing, Mother. I'm sure you know this but hadn't considered it when you made your plans. Dad comes up every weekend. He looks forward to it and has his own room.”

“Of course I know that, Nicole. Your father and I talk, you know.”

“You do?” she asked stupidly. “You do not,” she argued.

“We do indeed. Always have.”

“No way,” she said. She looked at April. “Have you ever heard that?” April shrugged helplessly.

“Yes, we've always kept in touch. Not so often as to pester each other, but regularly. At first I wanted to be sure you were fine, and later it was force of habit.”

Nikki handed her mother a glass of wine and took a couple of gulps from hers.
I am too tired for any more of her surprises,
she thought. But she was determined to call Buck later and check this out. It would turn out that Opal called him once a year, she was sure of it. Her mother had a tendency to stretch the truth.

“Well,” Nikki said. “Should I call Dixie and invite her to join us for dinner?”

“Yes, do,” Opal said. “She's such a fabulous dresser. I am always so anxious to see what she's wearing. The same as that charming young ho—” She cleared her throat under Nikki's threatening glare. “The same is true of Carlisle. Such a clotheshorse.” Then she smiled conspiratorially. “But then, they all are, you know.”

 

Dixie kept asking herself why she had felt it necessary to lie. She could have told the truth. But she was too afraid Nikki would caution her. “Remember, Dixie, what we decided. No dating, especially pilots.” Although Dixie might have considered this dating, she was certain Danny did not. He was as warm and darling and sweet as could be, but kept her at arm's length. Just a friend.

So she had said to Nikki, “Oh, gosh, I'm sorry! I can't! I have…ah…I have to go to my neighbor's house. They're welcoming me to the neighborhood. Isn't that nice?”

“Which neighbors?”

“On the left. You know. That two-story.”

“Oh. What's their names?”

“Um. Johnson? Jacobson? God, I can't remember. Barb and John, I think. But I'll get acquainted and tell you all about it tomorrow. Sorry, Nick.”

“Maybe you could come over after? For a coffee? Say hello to Opal and show her what you're wearing?”

“Huh?”

“She just
loves
your clothes. You know Opal. Deep.”

“Oh,” Dixie said with a laugh. “I think I'd better pass. My boss has been working me to death and I'm tired. Tell your mom I'll see her tomorrow, or at least
on the weekend. And thanks for the invitation.” The doorbell rang. “Oops, there's the doorbell. Probably some school kid selling something. Have a nice dinner.”

“You, too,” Nikki said.

Dixie put down the phone and hurried to the door. Danny stood there, flowers in one hand and wine in the other. “Welcoming committee,” he said.

“You're too sweet! You shouldn't have!”

“You're cooking,” he said. “Of course I should have.”

“You're right, you should have. But I owe you big time. You've been such a great…” She looked for the right words. She didn't want him to turn and run. He could be so easygoing and fun, then so shy and kind of withdrawn. “Support system,” she decided. “Here, let's put these in water and let the wine breathe.”

Dixie felt at a complete loss. She was used to being pursued, and now she found she had very little talent for pursuing.

Danny looked around and whistled in appreciation. Pictures on the walls, books on the shelves, photos and potted plants in place. “You've been in here, what, less than two weeks, worked full-time and got all this done?”

“And helped look after April and Jared, Nikki's kids, when I was the only one around. Let me open this wine and then I'll show you the rest.”

The rest was a perfect little house for a single woman. Three bedrooms, one of them a large master with adjoining bath, and another made into another den for her desk and computer. There was a living room with fireplace, a dining room, kitchen and nook. The backyard was very small with what was known as a “spool” sunk into the ground at one end—a little bigger than a spa, a little smaller than a pool.

As they passed by the dining room on this short tour, Danny noted that the table was set formally, with candles. After Dixie had arranged the flowers he'd brought, she'd added them to the table. Now she settled him in the living room with a glass of the merlot he'd brought, along with some hors d'oeuvres she'd prepared.

“Dinner's ready, but there's no rush,” she said.

So they talked, which was something they'd been doing, their conversations growing and becoming more and more personal. After that day Danny caught her hiding in the conference room crying, he'd started giving her a call to see how she was doing. He'd usually open the conversation by asking her if she'd heard any gossip about new planes lately.

When he went off to Phoenix for training, he'd called every day. He'd give one excuse or another, asking for airline news or the number of calls from potential new hires, but after that sixty seconds of conversation they would talk about each other's lives. And histories. For
hours.

A couple of times she'd called him. And she hadn't used any excuses. She just said, Hi, and, How's it going down there, we miss you up here.

By now he knew how Dixie and Nikki had become friends, that Dixie was the youngest in her family, and her brother and sister were quite a bit older. He knew her family were all overachievers and she had very little interest in such intellectual pursuits. “I would teach school, if I had the chance,” she said. “But that has more to do with my love of children than a career goal.”

And Danny had told her about his life, dull though he thought it was. High school, college, his degree in business for no particular reason—something to do while he pursued flying, his first love. He'd lost his father very
young and his mother just a few years ago. No, there had never been any serious women.

“I find that so unbelievable,” she said over dinner. “I would have thought you'd have been married or at least had a long-term relationship.”

“Why would you think so?”

“You're so sensitive. So easy to talk to. So…I don't know. Charming?”

“Dixie,” he said, “you're the one who's easy to talk to. You're so guileless and open that you bring out the best in others and make
them
seem charming. But it's you.”

“Oh, don't be so self-effacing,” she chided. “You know you're charming. And funny. When you're not being tremendously kind and serious, you're hilarious.”

“What about you? You should be married….”

“That was my plan,” she said. “Now I finally realize how stupid that was as a goal.”

“Why?” he asked.

“You have to plan a life and fit your relationships into it. You can't just plan to have relationships. I've wanted to be married since forever. It was the first thing I thought about when I started seein' a man. No wonder I kept getting' hurt. I probably ran them off.”

Of course she knew better; you couldn't run off a married man. Her problem was that in her desperation to find the right guy, she could make herself believe that every guy who seduced her was The One. She never looked at their motives carefully enough.

“But you should be able to want something like that,” Danny said. “Marriage and children. It shouldn't be considered old-fashioned to have that ideal as a dream.”

She looked at him through the candlelight and just
smiled. “See what I mean, Danny? That's so sweet. I'm amazed no one has caught you.”

Finally, Danny learned that Dixie had come to this town, this job, to get away from the life that had so disappointed her. One of the first things she told him about herself was that she was taking a hiatus from men, from dating, from the whole circus it had become. She was going to think about herself for a while.

He was glad of that. It gave him this chance to be her friend. He'd never aspire to be her partner, but their friendship was bringing him more happiness than he'd had in years.

They cleaned up the dishes together, and then with decaf and dessert, talked late into the evening. It was midnight before he finally said, “I'd better go and let you get some sleep.”

“Yeah, I promised Nikki I'd go over to her house tomorrow and say hello to her mother, who's visiting.”

“And I'm going to drop by the office,” he told her. “See if I can get a little work done. The simulator put me way behind.” She walked him to the door. “Dinner was awesome, Dixie. You're an incredible cook.”

“We'll do it again. Very soon.”

“You have to let me take you out to dinner first.”

“I accept!” she said enthusiastically.

He gave her a little peck on the cheek, turned quickly and went down the walk to his car. She stood in the doorway and watched him go, lifting her hand to wave.

I wonder, she thought. Will he
ever
be attracted to me as more than just a friend?

 

Nikki left the office a little early on Friday. She went to the small municipal airport in Henderson to await Buck's arrival. You could set a watch by Buck, he was
such a creature of habit. Four-thirty on the nose, the Cessna 310 lined up for landing. He bounced around in the wind but put her down nicely, taxied in and cut the engines.

Before he got out, he reached around behind him and opened the kennel door, letting Pistol loose. Then the two of them deplaned and tied the plane down.

Pistol didn't wait. When he caught sight of Nikki, his short little legs wound up and he charged toward the fixed-base office. She bent down and scooped him up. “Hey, Pistol. How was your flight?”

He answered by licking her face.

“Well, to what do I owe this special honor?” he asked.

“Opal is here,” she said. “She's at my house.”

Surprise registered on Buck's face, much to Nikki's relief.

“So. You didn't know.”

“No. Should I have known?”

“She said you two talk. That you've always talked. She knew you came up every weekend.”

“Aw, Jesus,” he groaned. “That isn't exactly so.”

“Well? Do you or don't you? Talk? Because I have a few other questions.”

“Nikki…”

“She drives me crazy, Dad. Now, if you two have some relationship that—”

“Let's just get a cup of coffee,” he relented. On the patio at Starbucks, where Pistol was welcome as long as he behaved, Nikki had a latte and Buck had his straight. “What can of worms has Opal opened now?” he asked.