It was the irrepressible Joey Watson, his usual broad grin splitting his freckled face.
“What are you doing out of uniform? Aren’t you flying today?”
“I’m like an old firehorse who can’t resist the sound of alarm bells.” Vicki smiled. “Only in my case it’s the sound of airplane motors.”
“I know what you mean,” Joey said. “I feel the same way.” He fell into step beside her. “Look, Steve is taking me up for a lesson in a few minutes. Have you got time to come over and take a look at his ship? It’s a peachy two-engined Beech.”
“Are you sure the field people won’t mind?”
“Of course not,” Joey said. He opened the heavy wire gate that led out onto the concrete apron. “Come on.”
Steve Miller was standing at the step that led into the little cabin of his charter plane. He wore light-brown slacks and a gabardine flying jacket. He wheeled around and smiled broadly when he saw Vicki approaching at Joey’s side.
“Oh, hello, Miss Barr,” he said. “Did you come to take me up on that spin?”
“Not this morning, Steve,” Vicki said. “I’ve got things to do. But I may some other day real soon.”
“You do that, Vicki—Miss Barr,” Steve said.