Chapter 19
Rory had three days to figure out a job and a place to live before Hank came back and did something foolish like proposing.
The last thing she wanted was for Hank to ask for her hand out of a sense of obligation, but he seemed to be hinting that he might.
He seemed the noble sort who would feel he had to take care of her, having contributed toward her ruined reputation.
But she chose to do the things that ruined her reputation, and the last thing she wanted was to jump from the infantilizing confines of her father’s mansion to the arms of a man who thought he could fix things for her.
She was Rory Belmont, and she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
She woke up from her nap in the late afternoon with her mind spinning with plans. Her first call was to Evelyn.
“Rory? Is that you? The operator said you’re calling from Mineola. Why are you in Mineola?”
Rory heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank God, I reached you. Papa is likely trying to keep it all hush-hush, but I got caught with my pilot. He’s cut me off without a cent, insisting that I come back and marry Edward if I don’t want to be cut off for good.”
“Good gracious! What can I do to help?”
Thank God for Evelyn!
“I need to figure out how to get a job. I was thinking of a secretarial or teaching position, nothing fancy, but enough to eat and get a room somewhere.”
There was a moment of silence, then, “I have just the thing. You should take over as Executive Director of the Pilots’ Benevolent Association.
You did all the work anyway. I was always a figurehead so that your father wouldn’t suspect.
You could pay yourself a reasonable stipend.
Lord knows there’s enough money for it.”
“How much did we make?” She was almost afraid to ask.
“One hundred and twenty-six thousand dollars.”
“One hundred and twenty-six thousand… How are we ever going to spend that much money?” The total requests from the women she’d been in touch with amounted to eight thousand.
“Sounds like the organization needs a paid Executive Director to figure that out. Will you do it? I need someone to take over managing the staff.”
“The staff?” When she last spoke to Evelyn, there was no staff.
“You now have an accountant and a secretary. I hired them this morning when I found out the final numbers. I couldn’t manage this on my own.”
Grinning from ear to ear, she said, “I’ll do it. Can you send me a letter, or better yet a telegram, formally offering me the new position? Put down a salary of $1000 annually.”
“You’d better make it $3000. We pay the accountant $2000, and you need to make more than him. And I should send you some money too. Will $100 do?”
“I promise I’ll pay you back.” It seemed exorbitant, but what did she know?
This was certainly more than she would make as a teacher.
She felt guilty about taking anything from the PBA and silently promised she would give back whatever she didn’t need to cover her living expenses.
Maybe with a bit of time, she could come up with a better plan, but at the moment, she had to agree this was her best option.
“Don’t worry about it, dear. How else can I help?”
“That is more than enough. You are a life saver, my dear.” Evelyn had her eternal gratitude for this.
“Where is your pilot, by the way?” Evelyn asked. “What does he have to say about all this? Surely, he has an opinion.”
Rory sighed. “He had to fly to Washington D.C., but I think he’s going to ask me to marry him when he gets back.”
“As he should. What are you going to say?”
What was she going to say? She’d only just gained her independence. She wasn’t sure she was ready to give it up so soon.
“I’m not sure.”
“He’s not marriage material?”
“No, it’s not that. Papa wouldn’t approve, but who cares what he thinks?” She paused for a long moment. “The thing is I’m free now. No one can tell me what to do. I think I might like some time on my own before I think about tying myself to someone for life.”
“Understandable,” Evelyn said. “It’s wise to take your time now that you have the option to do so. I almost envy you. Not that I’m willing to give everything up like you have, but it must be nice to be captain of your own destiny.”
It was terrifying and humbling, but Evelyn wasn’t wrong.
“It is. And who needs all that money anyway?”
“Darling, you know I need my diamonds and champagne.”
Rory laughed. “Of course.”
“Well, I hope you’re happy, whatever you decide. Where should I send that telegram?”
Providing the information, Rory said, “You are the best friend a girl could have, you know that?”
“Promise me you’ll stay in touch, no matter what happens. Let’s meet up once you settle in. I want to hear everything!”
“I promise I’ll reach out as soon as I have my feet under me again.”
They said their goodbyes and hung up.
Rory wiggled her hips and did a little dance.
She was free and had a means of making a living.
Now all she had to do was find a home. Mineola would make a fine home.
Most of the women she wanted to help lived near airfields, not in the city.
Yes, it would keep her near Hank, but that was beside the point.
It was practical for her work. That was what mattered most.
And her work mattered. She was determined to use the PBA to help lift those in need.
For the first time in her life, she had a sense of purpose, a mission to fulfill.
She couldn’t fix all of society’s ills, but she could make a difference.
Maybe she could start to chip away at the heavy debt she felt for a lifetime of oblivious privilege.
Her stomach growled, and she stifled a yawn.
It was time to explore Hank’s kitchen. He’d doubted her cooking abilities.
She wasn’t a master chef, but she knew enough to make a decent meal.
Opening the icebox, she found milk, eggs, bacon, and some leftover roasted chicken.
She took out the chicken and went to see what else she could find.
In the pantry, she found potatoes. Out in the garden, she pulled up a couple of carrots.
In a cupboard, she found a bottle of whiskey, and she poured herself a dram.
She deserved it after what she’d been through today.
Sitting down to her dinner of chicken, mashed potatoes, and carrots a short while later, she was quite pleased with herself.
And Hank thought his poor little rich girl couldn’t cook.
It wasn’t the spectacular French cuisine her father’s chef cooked, but it was good, hearty fare that filled her belly.
It was all she needed to feel full and at peace.
As she sat back at Hank’s table, drinking his whiskey and eating his food, she couldn’t help but think about the delicious night they’d shared.
The consequences were disastrous, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret the night itself.
Nothing had prepared her for the intensity, the electric heat of their encounter.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to marry Hank, but she couldn’t let him go as a lover.
She felt too much when she was with him, and she couldn’t imagine anyone else ever making her feel the same.
Perhaps she’d refuse to marry altogether and be his “companion with no strings attached,” leaving them both free to live their lives as they saw fit.
Hank could fly without worrying about his responsibility to a wife at home.
She could have her independence without being burdened by children or a household to care for. It was perfect.
She cleaned up her dinner, washed her face, and went to bed, breathing in his scent from the sheets.
Such an intoxicating man. She closed her eyes and imagined him here in bed beside her, his body wrapped around hers.
Relaxing in his warm embrace, she felt at home.
This little cottage felt cozy and comfortable in a way the mansion where she was raised never had.
Everything here was functional. Nothing was for show.
But it was beautiful nonetheless, just like the man who lived here.
She drifted off surrounded by him, breathing him in, despite his absence. Never had she slept so soundly.
The next morning, she woke up refreshed and ready for the challenges ahead.
A small part of her was still shaky from the shock of yesterday’s loss, but her new surroundings and sense of purpose did much to mitigate her lingering distress.
If anything, her losses filled her with added determination to succeed in building a life for herself without her father, a life where she did some good in the world.
She had a job. She had the telegram in hand confirming it.
Papa wanted to teach her a lesson and expected her to come crawling back.
Well, she’d show him! Deep down, she knew he wouldn’t let her go so easily, but that was a problem for another day.
Today, she would set out to find a home, and tomorrow, she would get to work.
After making a simple breakfast of coffee, eggs, and toast, she sat down with pen and paper to draw up a budget.
She’d taken a seminar called “Domestic Finances” in college to prepare herself for someday managing a household.
Doing some simple math to break down her salary, she decided she could afford to spend up to eighty dollars a month on housing.
Knowing very little about local housing costs, she hoped it would be enough, but she knew her salary was generous, so she thought it likely to be adequate.
After cleaning up her dishes, she set out into town to make inquiries. The greengrocer told her to speak to the druggist who told her to speak to the florist.
“Excuse me,” she said, passing a profusion of carnations in every color to enter the shop. Inside, there were bundles of every possible flower that was currently in bloom.