_Which Lucy?_
“Vicki, there’s a Miss L. Rowe aboard!” Jean said excitedly. “I just
discovered it when I had to check tickets and passengers’ names!”
Vicki stopped her preparations for lunch and stepped outside the buffet
into the aisle. “Where, Jean? Where is she?”
“’Way up forward. You can’t see her from here. A stunning girl. Brown
suit, brown hair.”
“I can’t stop and go up there now.” Vicki craned to see down the length
of the Electra cabin. “Has she a squarish face?”
“I’m not sure.” Some of the passengers noticed their excitement. The
two stewardesses stepped back into the privacy of the buffet. “Vic,
could she be _your_ Lucy Rowe?”
“Hmm. It’s possible--”
Today was Tuesday. She had seen Lucy Rowe from the air on Saturday,
in California. Since then Vicki had flown to Chicago, had a rest day
in Chicago on Monday, and now was flying from Chicago to New York.
The Electra had taken off from Chicago half an hour ago, at noon. With
Jean she had greeted the boarding passengers but hadn’t seen anyone she
could have imagined to be Lucy Rowe. Still, with sixty-eight passengers
enplaning, she might not have noticed every face.
“Yes, it’s possible she’s my Lucy Rowe,” said Vicki. “I’m surprised, of
course. Lucy must have left Pine Top rather suddenly--or at any rate,
awfully soon after I was there. It seems like a strange coincidence.”
“One point,” Jean said. “Her ticket reads ‘Miss L. Rowe.’ It _doesn’t_
read Lucy. Her first name might be Lillian, for all we know.”
“I’ll go forward and speak to her first chance I get,” said Vicki. Not
that Gravy’s abstract portrait provided a sure means of identifying the
girl, by any means. “Did she come on from California?”
“Her ticket doesn’t say, it just reads Chicago as point of origination.
But she could have started from California, and changed planes in
Chicago. That could involve two separate tickets.”
“That’s right. So her ticket doesn’t tell us anything. Gosh, I’m
intrigued! It _could_ very well be the right girl. Well, back to the
coffeemaker.”
Captain Tom Jordan had been delayed several minutes in take-off and
had notified the stewardesses he intended to make up the time during
flight. That meant Vicki and Jean had even less than the usual two
hours in which to take care of the needs of sixty-eight persons, and
set up and serve sixty-eight hot luncheons. The stewardesses hadn’t a
minute to spare. Vicki’s one chance to see Miss L. Rowe was when she
brought her a lunch tray.
[Illustration]
“Are you enjoying the flight, Miss Rowe?”
“Yes, it’s very smooth and pleasant.”
The girl glanced up as she spoke. She was in her early twenties and
did rather resemble the girl in Gravy’s vague portrait, except that
her hair was dark brown. Vicki had expected from the portrait that it
would be light brown. As for the squarish face, Vicki could not decide
whether Gravy had exaggerated its shape. Her large eyes and wide mouth
resembled the portrait. Did this girl look like a topnotch secretary?
She was trimly dressed, well groomed, and well made up. Did she look
like an outdoors girl? That was harder to guess.
Vicki looked to see whether Miss L. Rowe wore the Bryant family’s
silver ring; but she wore no rings at all. This, too, proved nothing.
Most women wore little or no jewelry while traveling. Vicki longed to
ask Miss Rowe her first name, but she had no right, no excuse, no time
to do so. She smiled at the girl and went on with her tasks.
The trouble started shortly before they were due to land. The captain’s
buzzer sounded on the stewardesses’ call board, and Vicki--wanting
another glance at Miss L. Rowe--went forward to the cockpit, unlocking
and then closing the steel door behind her.
In the bright light of the cockpit she saw that the faces of the two
pilots and the navigator were strained but calm. Chuck Smith, the young
navigator, had his jacket off and sleeves rolled up, and there were
grease stains on his shirt and arms.
Captain Jordan said: “Vicki, we’re having a little trouble. We
discovered the nose wheel has not retracted properly.” Vicki knew it
was not uncommon for nose wheels to get stuck like this.
“We’ve tried everything we can to repair it, but no luck,” Captain
Jordan went on. “I’ve decided to make our scheduled landing, anyway.
I think the shock of landing will jolt the wheel down into place. We
have tricycle landing gear, so that this landing won’t be too risky. In
fact, I expect it to be a success. However, _if_ it doesn’t work, we’d
better be prepared.”
Vicki was trained for emergencies. Her heart pounded but she listened
calmly to the pilot.
“I want you and Jean to inform the passengers of our situation, and to
use emergency landing procedures. Just in case.”
“Yes, sir. How soon?”
“Start right away. You have about twenty minutes to prepare.”
“Yes, Captain Jordan.” Twenty minutes was ample time.
Back in the cabin she found Jean and repeated the pilot’s message. Then
each stewardess went to her half of the cabin and explained quietly
to the passengers. Vicki stressed that the landing very probably
would be a success, but because of the risk they must be prepared.
The passengers took the announcement as calmly as it was made. Vicki
realized that these sixty-eight people looked to her and Jean for
leadership; they must keep cool and move fast and accurately.
First, they saw to it that every passenger had his seat belt fastened
tightly, that all seats were in upright position, and that no one
was smoking. Then Vicki selected four men who told her they had had
military or aviation experience. Vicki quickly showed them how to
operate the lounge-door exit, window exits, ropes, and evacuation
slides when the plane landed. She and Jean were responsible for opening
the main-entrance door and the buffet-service door. Jean, meanwhile,
selected three passengers, showed them how to operate the three window
exits, and seated them there. Next, the stewardesses briefed the
passengers on locations of all the exits. They showed the passengers
how to brace their feet and arms, how to press their heads against
the seat in front of them in order to avoid being thrown forward and
getting bloody noses. The stewardesses quickly distributed pillows and
blankets for extra protection.
Jean showed the woman with the one baby aboard how to lock the baby in
her arms. Some of the men passengers removed parcels from the overhead
luggage racks and stowed them in the luggage and coat closets.
“Will you please remove all sharp objects,” Vicki said, walking along
the plane aisle. “Please remove your glasses, all pens and pencils,
brooches, belts with buckles, any sharp objects--” since these things
could stab. “Will the men please loosen their ties.” Then she hurried
to check the fire extinguishers, first-aid kit, all emergency equipment.
Sooner than Vicki expected, they were flying in over New York City.
The captain’s buzzer sounded. He said, “We’re cleared and coming down
any minute now.” Jean sat down in the forward cabin adjacent to the
main-entrance door, Vicki sat down in an aisle seat across from the
buffet-service door. They strapped themselves in.
Soaring down above the length of La Guardia Airport, everything below
looked as usual as on any other winter afternoon--except that two
emergency trucks for extinguishing fire came racing after them on
the ground. Vicki said a little prayer. She spoke confidently to the
passengers near her.
Dropping--dropping--now Vicki could see the faces of the men on the
field as the Electra flew low past them. They stopped working to watch,
and to help if necessary. Then the plane gave a terrific jolt, a jar
which Vicki felt to the roots of her teeth. Men and women swayed and
rolled in their seats, the baby cried, as the Electra touched ground.
The plane shuddered all over and rolled on to a stop. Safe! No one
thrown--nothing broken nor on fire--The nose wheel must have come down
exactly as Captain Jordan planned.
“Praise be!” Vicki exclaimed. She unstrapped and jumped to her feet.
She and Jean ran to reassure the children and the elderly among their
passengers. Everyone was shaken up, profoundly sobered, but relieved
and grateful. The men were inclined to joke now that the danger was
over. The two stewardesses made certain, and Captain Jordan came out to
make certain, that each passenger was all right. Not one person showed
panic or caused any trouble. Captain Jordan praised the stewardesses
for their share in maintaining high morale.
The cabin was littered with passengers’ garments, handbags, eyeglasses,
and pens. For several minutes Jean and Vicki were busy picking these
up. Everyone helped them. Or almost everyone--Vicki noticed that Miss
L. Rowe, like a few others, did not bother to help anyone but herself.
Something glistened on the plane’s carpet. Vicki picked it up: it was
a gold charm off a woman’s bracelet, inscribed “Dorothy.” She held it
high and asked: “Does anyone own a charm marked ‘Dorothy’?” Several
women shook their heads. Vicki hastily consulted the manifest with its
list of names. No woman passenger aboard had the name “Dorothy” or the
initial “D.”
“Does anyone own this gold charm?” Vicki asked, carrying it
conspicuously all through the cabin. It was a valuable piece of
jewelry. No one claimed it. She knew it was unlikely that the charm had
been left on the plane from a previous flight, since the cleaning crews
at terminals did a thorough job. The owner was aboard this very minute.
Why didn’t Dorothy--whoever she was--claim it?
The passengers began leaving the plane, the stewardesses managing an
orderly evacuation. There went Miss L. Rowe! Vicki was seized by an
irresistible curiosity to see whether the Bryants or Mr. Dorn would
meet the girl. With a promise to Jean Cox and the passenger agent
to come back, Vicki went down the plane stairs after Miss Rowe. She
followed her at a short distance across the airfield, into the crowded
terminal building, and out again at the front portico to the taxi
stand. Vicki watched Miss L. Rowe get directly into a taxi by herself,
without looking around to see whether anyone was waiting to meet her.
Apparently she didn’t expect to be met.
“Well, I guess she isn’t the right L. Rowe,” Vicki thought. “If she
were, the Bryants would at least have sent their car and chauffeur for
her. Or is her arrival a surprise? Even if it were, Mr. Dorn probably
would be on hand to escort her to the Bryants’ house,” Vicki reasoned.
“Wrong girl. That’s that. Just a coincidence of names and brown hair.”
In all likelihood the Bryants’ granddaughter--the girl with the brown
hair and green scarf which tallied with the portrait--was still at the
hill house near Pine Top.
Vicki still had the gold charm clutched in her hand. The “Lost and
Found” desk was only a few steps away. She went over and turned the
charm in. It was odd, she thought, that no one on the plane had claimed
it.
On her return to the Electra, she joined Jean in completing the final,
routine picking up in the cabin and putting equipment back into place.
After handing in their reports to the Flight Stewardess Supervisor,
Vicki and Jean went to the stewardesses’ sleeping lounge to have a nap
and tidy up. Now that the emergency was met and past, they admitted
they felt tired.
“We were lucky,” Jean murmured from the other cot.
“Luck and skill and a well-engineered plane,” Vicki answered.
She lay there on the cot thinking about the landing preparations, the
unclaimed charm, and Miss L. Rowe. Her thoughts drifted on to the
Bryants. Suddenly she sat up, took a few coins from her purse, and
walked next door to the stewardesses’ lounge.
“Where you going?” Jean called after her sleepily.
“I’m going to telephone Mrs. Bryant.”
She wanted to tell Lucy’s grandmother that although she had not yet
been able to deliver her message, she had, to the best of her belief,
located Lucy and actually seen her from the air.
A secretary answered. The Bryants were not at home. She evidently knew
from Mrs. Bryant who Vicki was. Vicki decided not to relay her news of
Lucy secondhand and asked the secretary for an appointment. Vicki said
she expected to be in New York again, with free time, next Sunday and
Monday.
“I’m sure that Mrs. Bryant would be delighted to see you at lunch or
tea,” said the secretary. “I’ve put you down for tea at four on Sunday,
Miss Barr.”
“Thank you, that’s perfect. Until Sunday, then.”
* * * * *
Between that memorable Tuesday and the following Sunday, the first
of March, Vicki flew three more Electra flights between New York and
Chicago, with two days off in Chicago between flights. On one rest day
her mother took the local train from Fairview up to Chicago, and they
spent a happy day together.
On her other rest day, Vicki stayed at her Chicago hotel. Resting, she
tried to plan exactly what she was going to tell Lucy’s grandmother
when she visited the Bryants’ house on Sunday. What disturbed Vicki was
the fact that she had learned some things about Lucy which Mr. Dorn, in
San Francisco a month or so earlier, had not learned and possibly could
have learned. Allowing that Mr. Dorn had missed meeting Lucy, as she
herself had, and allowing that her own visit came a month later, still,
either she or Mr. Dorn could be mistaken. And Vicki did not want to
give Mrs. Bryant any wrong information, or raise any false hopes.
“I’m going to ask Mrs. Bryant the exact dates when Mr. Dorn was in San
Francisco,” Vicki thought. “Because _if_ he was there during the time
Lucy became involved with Mrs. Heath, it’s strange he didn’t find out
about that. Unless”--an odd idea struck her--“Mrs. Heath dodged Mr.
Dorn’s inquiries and managed to keep him from learning of Lucy’s new
job? Mrs. Heath avoided meeting the minister, didn’t she? She managed
things so that a good friend like Gravy never met her, didn’t she? Hmm.”
Reviewing the few facts she had learned about Lucy’s new job, Vicki had
to admit they were sketchy and elusive. It even occurred to her, in a
wave of skepticism, that the girl she had seen from the air _might_ not
necessarily be Lucy Rowe. A green scarf and light-brown hair were not
conclusive proof.
“Oh, it’s likely that girl _is_ Lucy Rowe,” Vicki thought, impatient
with herself. “Why don’t I be sensible and see, on Sunday, what Mr.
Dorn has learned in the meantime? Maybe what he’s discovered by then
and what I’ve discovered will tally, after all.”
She daydreamed about Sunday, and the pleasure she hoped it would give
Mrs. Bryant to hear her news of Lucy.
* * * * *
The minute Vicki entered the Bryant house on Sunday afternoon she
sensed the excitement there. The whole household had changed its
mood: every lamp and chandelier in every room was alight, bouquets of
fresh-cut flowers bloomed everywhere, dance music came from a radio.
The house seemed young!
Mr. and Mrs. Bryant, when Vicki entered the room with the parakeets,
looked as if they had waked up from a long sleep, refreshed and happy.
They both were beaming. Mr. Bryant had a flower in his buttonhole, and
Mrs. Bryant was as flushed as a girl in her rustling taffeta dress.
Vicki had never seen them in such festive spirits. Around the tea
service were trays of tiny, fancy sandwiches and cakes, ready for a
party. Vicki, trying not to look inquisitive, said good afternoon.
“Vicki, how nice to see you!” Mrs. Bryant took her hand and drew her
into the room. “You’re right on time. Our other guests are coming at
five, but I especially wanted you here early. You’ll see why.”
“I’m so glad to see you again,” said Vicki. “I hope you’re both well.”
“We’re feeling exceedingly well,” said Mr. Bryant. “Mrs. Bryant has a
surprise which she thinks you’ll enjoy.”
“Now, Marshall, you mustn’t spoil my surprise. First I want to ask
Vicki where she’s been flying recently, and all about the fascinating
people on her plane--”
“I think I hear her coming downstairs,” Marshall Bryant interrupted.
Mrs. Bryant looked flustered. Vicki, to help her, said her last few
trips were probably not as special as Mrs. Bryant’s surprise. The
elderly lady smiled at her delightedly.
“Well, my dear, it _is_ a most wonderful surprise for Mr. Bryant and
me. Just wait--one more moment, now--” Vicki heard someone’s light,
quick footsteps. “Vicki, Mr. Dorn has found our granddaughter. Ah, here
she is!”
A slender dark-haired girl, taller than Vicki, came into the room. She
was the Miss L. Rowe who had been on Vicki’s plane. She lightly kissed
both elderly people, and smiled politely when Mrs. Bryant said:
“Lucy, this is Vicki Barr who is about your age. She’s the one who was
so helpful to your grandfather on our airplane trip.”
“How do you do, Miss Barr?” If the girl recognized her, she gave not
the slightest sign.
“I remember you on my plane earlier this week,” Vicki said pleasantly.
She started to say how excited she’d been on finding a Miss L. Rowe
aboard, but caught herself just in time. Mrs. Bryant _had_ requested
her not to mention her own search to anyone. It was likely that Mrs.
Bryant had not told even Lucy this secret. Then Vicki noticed that Lucy
Rowe was staring at her blankly, as if she had never seen the flight
stewardess before.
“You remember, Miss Rowe,” Vicki said, “the day we nearly had to make
an emergency landing.”
Lucy Rowe gave her a forced smile and turned away. Vicki was astonished.
“Why, Lucy,” her grandmother said, “you didn’t tell us about any
difficulty in landing!”
“It was nothing. I didn’t want to alarm you,” the girl said. “May I
have a cup of that nice, hot tea? I’m not used to your cold weather in
New York--but I expect I’ll love it here. Who else is coming today? I’m
so eager to be presented to your friends.... No, I won’t mind a bit
that they’re all older people.”
Lucy chattered on. Although Mrs. Bryant was eager for the two girls to
be friendly, it seemed to Vicki that Lucy avoided conversing with her.
Particularly it seemed that Lucy did not want last Tuesday’s flight
mentioned again. Evidently it embarrassed her in some way.
“I wonder why?” Vicki thought. She would not be so tactless as to raise
the subject again, of course. “But why does Lucy Rowe act as if she’s
never seen me before?”
Vicki felt embarrassed and disappointed. She’d anticipated a lively,
warmhearted, approachable girl--from the several descriptions of
Lucy Rowe--not someone so very charming and sophisticated. Lucy was
affectionate toward the Bryants, and they were already devoted to their
new-found granddaughter. Vicki saw the lacelike silver ring that Lucy
wore. She recognized it as the Bryant family’s ring, no doubt about
that. Vicki said, hoping to prompt her to talk:
“What a lovely and unusual ring you’re wearing, Miss Rowe.”
“Thank you.” Lucy held out her hand for Vicki to inspect the ring, and
said, “I value this ring more than I can tell you, because it’s a
family heirloom. Mother gave it to me, and I’ve worn it constantly ever
since she died. It hasn’t ever been off my finger, not even once.”
Mrs. Bryant murmured appreciatively, even Marshall Bryant looked
touched. But Vicki was thinking, “_You didn’t wear the silver ring last
Tuesday on my flight. I looked, I made sure--_”
Why was Lucy lying? A lie about the ring--an evasion about having been
on Vicki’s plane--what else would she lie about? Vicki was puzzled and
troubled. She managed to conceal it, for if something was amiss here,
she must not arouse the girl’s suspicions. She needed to gain more
information.
“I think it’s wonderful that Mr. Dorn found your granddaughter so
soon,” Vicki said to Mrs. Bryant, hoping she would talk.
“Yes, Mr. Dorn found her on his second trip to San Francisco,” Mrs.
Bryant said, looking warmly at Lucy. “He flew out there just last week
on Friday, and by the following Sunday--exactly a week ago today, I
remember it was Washington’s Birthday, February twenty-second--he wired
us that he had found our young lady.”
“_Last Sunday_,” Vicki thought. “_And I saw the girl I took to be Lucy
at Pine Top last Saturday._”
Lucy said, with a little laugh, “I was the most surprised girl in the
world when Mr. Dorn appeared and told me that my grandparents wanted
me. And the happiest girl.”
Marshall Bryant lighted a fresh cigar and gave a grunt of approval.
“Dorn is a good man.”
Vicki thought, “_Have I made a mistake and traced the wrong Lucy? I
don’t see how. Yet surely Mr. Dorn, who’s a lawyer, and who has time
and money to work with, didn’t make any mistake?_”
“Of course we wanted to meet our granddaughter instantly, the very next
day after Mr. Dorn’s telegram,” Mrs. Bryant said with a smile. “He flew
back to New York and came to tell us--Lucy, darling, you can’t imagine
how absurdly disappointed your grandfather and I were when Mr. Dorn
told us that you needed a little time to settle your affairs in San
Francisco, and would fly east by yourself.”
“I could hardly wait, too,” Lucy said. “I practically ran, in San
Francisco, doing all my good-bys and chores. Even so, the fastest I
could get here to you was Thursday.”
“_Thursday!_” Vicki nearly exclaimed aloud. “_Why, this Miss L. Rowe
was on my plane on Tuesday. She left La Guardia Airport, alone, at
three o’clock Tuesday afternoon--I saw her--but she didn’t meet her
grandparents until Thursday! Where was she during that interval?_”
Lucy leaned toward her grandparents. “And when Mr. Dorn met me at La
Guardia Airport on Thursday afternoon I was terribly nervous about
meeting you! He had to talk quietly to me for about half an hour before
I’d even get in the car.”
Another lie, Vicki thought angrily. Or had this girl returned to the
airport two afternoons later and pretended to Mr. Dorn that she had
just got off the plane? So this was why, Vicki realized, Lucy Rowe did
not want any mention of her having been on the New York-bound plane on
_Tuesday_ afternoon. Vicki said guardedly:
“New York is a wonderful place but so is your city, Miss Rowe. I’m just
getting to know San Francisco on occasional visits. It’s a fascinating
place. In what part of the city did you live?”
“For a while I lived on Telegraph Hill, wonderful views from there.
Then three other girls and I took a beach house one summer. It was fun,
but such a lot of commuting to my job.”
No mention of the women’s hotel, Hotel Alcott. No mention of sharing an
apartment with Mary Scott and her mother. That did not tally with what
Vicki had learned. Lucy had answered readily, even glibly. Vicki tried
another tack.
“Some of the best views in New York,” she said, “are from high up in
the office buildings. Is that true in San Francisco? Was it so on your
job?”
Lucy looked amused. “I worked so hard at Whitney Decorators that there
wasn’t much time to admire the views.”
“Poor darling,” said her grandmother.
“Oh, no, it was a perfectly nice job with nice people,” Lucy said. “But
I was awfully happy to give it up and come to you.”
No mention of working for the Interstate Insurance Company. Was the
interior-decorator job a fact or another lie? If a fact, _when_ had
Lucy worked for a decorator? And why didn’t she mention her job with
Mrs. Heath? Lucy made it sound as if she had been employed in a San
Francisco office building at the time when Mr. Dorn had found her a
week ago. Vicki knew she had resigned from Interstate about a month
earlier, and had gone to Pine Top a couple of weeks later. Why all
these lies? If this girl was actually Lucy, she was trading on the love
of her grandparents. Or if she was an impostor, she must be very clever
to have fooled Mr. Dorn.
Vicki said to her, “I’m not sure, but I _think_ that I met an
acquaintance of yours while I was in San Francisco. Jill--I can’t
remember her last name--” Vicki pretended.
“Was it Jill Baker?” said Lucy. “Such a nice girl.”
Vicki nodded and did not press the point.
Not Jill Baker--that name was Jill Joseph. Unless Baker had been Jill’s
name before her marriage? Vicki decided to check the next time she was
in San Francisco. She noticed that Lucy did not mention her old friend
Jill’s living in her family’s former house, nor their having been in
school together--in fact, nothing about Jill. Didn’t this girl know
Jill Joseph? Lucy again chattered along, changing the subject. Or was
the omission of no importance?
Just then Thurman Dorn came in.