If he hadn’t been so overburdened with work, Ted Hart might have enjoyed the challenge to start
an airline for Mr. Toomb, his boss. The fact was that he was already away from his wife and kids more
than he or they had expected. Hopefully, Mr. Toomb would quickly allow him to hire an assistant. But
he was off to a bad start. He and Mr. Toomb could not even agree on a name for the airline. Ted had
suggested Florida Airlines. Mr. Toomb’s idea? Wild Blue Yonder Airways. Ted could see
immediately that marketing would be a problem. The word “wild” could be interpreted as “reckless.”
And “yonder” had a connotation that was anything but sophisticated. The well-heeled Yankees they
would need as customers were not going to like it. Well, Mr. Toomb was the boss, and the boss
always got what he wanted. Especially if the boss was a powerful, no-nonsense man like Mr. Toomb.
Ted spent two weeks in Tallahassee to get the permits lined up. It was easy compared to the way
things were done up north, Ted thought. In fact, before anyone realized what was happening, the
crummy little airport landing strip in Naples was under construction. The Naples airport had been so
lacking that Mr. Toomb had been forced to acc ept that headquarters for his new airline would be in
Tampa, which was, compared to Naples, an actual city. Meanwhile, the headline in the Naples paper
said the state was financing some “improvements” to the humble airstrip, but in truth it was being
modernized and expanded to accommodate Mr. Toomb’s vision. One problem was going to be Ted’s
son, Judd, who was de eply in volved with the cadet corps of the Civil Air Patrol. Making a mental note
to himself, Ted vowed to be careful not to say too much around Judd, who seemed to be on friendly
terms with everyone at the Naples Airport. Mr.
Toomb was a secretive man, which meant Ted—if he wanted to stay employed—had to ke ep
secrets, too. Not that Mr. Toomb was doing anything illegal, Ted quickly told himself. Mr. Toomb
was an opportunist. A well-connected opportunist, the most formidable kind. Ted sighed. This was not
what he thought he was getting into, back when he was in the Army during the war and wanted to
make the world a better place. Somehow that dream had been diverted, one little decision at a time,
into a simpler, more personal goal: go to college on the G. I. Bill and become the first person in his
family to wear a suit to work. It had meant leaving Boston, which he hadn’t counted on. It had meant
long days on the road, travel, and, needless to say, time away from Jackie and the kids. Was it worth
it? On good days, the answer was yes. Jackie’s parents, owners of a well-known restaurant in
downtown Boston, were not happy when Ted proposed to their only daughter. Sometimes it occurred
to him that he was still trying to prove himself to them, even though he knew it could never happen.
They would not even come to visit. It wasn’t Florida they were opposed to; God knows they’d spent
their fair share of time at the Fontainebleau in Miami Beach and the Breakers in Palm Beach. They
just wouldn’t come to Collier County, that’s all. In their minds, Collier County was the sticks. Of
course, the way things were headed, his in-laws might change their stubborn minds about Naples.
There could come a time when Naples surpassed the swankier places on Florida’s east coast. Not
likely, but possible. As for his own parents, they didn’t have the money to travel to Cape Cod for a
holiday, let alone Naples. In fact he wasn’t sure if his parents had ever gone on a vacation. This
thought made him so sad that he found it necessary to light his pipe, a habit that calmed him. He
watched as a tiny, single-engine plane landed gracefully on the lone runway and taxied carefully
around construction equipment and scores of workmen who hadn’t even looked up when it landed.
There were no hangars, only the terminal building which housed a weather station, a bathroom, and a
so-called lobby with a half-dozen molded plastic chairs, a Coke machine, and plenty of ashtrays. He’d
seen better accommodations overseas in the Army during World War Two. He had no desire to feel
nostalgic about his stint in the Army. Back in Boston, he’d had a few beers now and then at a local
VFW but, unlike
many other veterans, he discovered he couldn’t think of his war service as his glory days. Unusual
for his generation, Ted was bitter about the war. About all wars. About powerful old men, since the
beginning of time, who sent young men to their deaths. More than nine thousand Allied soldiers killed
or injured on D-Day alone. Ted thought about those numbers every day. He watched another plane
land then realized that his pipe had grown cold. He leaned over to empty the bowl by tapping it against
the heel of his shoe and was surprised, a moment later, to realize that he’d struck the pipe so hard that
he’d broken it in two. He was glad no one was around to see this. Men like him didn’t show their
emotions when it came to the war. His unit had landed at Normandy without him. He had been pulled
out at the last minute and never knew why. The shame and guilt resulted in unrelenting pressure. You
should have been there, his mind told him daily. You’d better have a good life; you’re living for all of
those who didn’t make it. Twenty years had passed but it didn’t matter. And, as luck would have it,
there were fresh reminders. The only suitable type of aircraft available for Mr. Toomb’s airline, it
turned out, were old Army transport planes affectionately known as “Gooney Birds.” And the pilots?
The only ones who had answered the newspaper advertisements were former World War Two pilots
who had k ept up their credentials in civilian life. He’d already hired two. So far, the federal
government had approved a route between Tampa and points east (Orlando) and north (Tallahassee).
It was a huge accomplishment in a short period of time, but much work remained to be done. When he
was younger and dreamed of the white-collar life, Ted had envisioned smoke-filled boardrooms and
leisurely lunches of prime rib and bourbon. In his mind, a secretary would take care of all the
mundane details at work, just as a wife would do at home. Well, fantasy did not match reality. While
he was making more money than he’d ever thought possible, the truth was that he hardly had time to
enjoy spending it. At least Jackie seemed happy now. Their first year in Florida had been tumultuous.
Between the book club and the radio show, she’d caused quite a ruckus. She had irritated the heck out
of Mr. Toomb, but even that seemed smoothed over. The book club had mostly disbanded, and Jackie
was spending most of her time helping with that baby. Yes, it was a bit
unorthodox, but it was certainly worthwhile. He was relieved by the decision by Jackie and her
friends to ke ep the baby primarily at Mrs. Bailey White’s house, which was off the beaten path. It also
meant that the baby’s mother, Priscilla, could stay there—and not at his house—when she returned on
her visits from college. Ted was not prejudiced, or at least he didn’t think he was. However, a man had
to protect his wife and children, and he was not going to let them be a target for some furious redneck
who might throw a Molotov cocktail through the living room window. Like Jackie, he believed that
the best way to address the race problem in America was to help Negroes advance through education.
In fact, one of Ted’s favorite charities was the United Negro College Fund, to which he donated every
year since it was founded in 1944, even when his wallet had been thin. He had met Priscilla only once,
but he agreed with Jackie that the young girl was college material. He was surprised—but k ept it to
himself—that Jackie seemed to be enjoying the baby as much as she did. He recalled how brittle she
had been as a new mother and it was interesting to see that she was so relaxed with Priscilla’s baby.
Maybe, because Jackie was a little older now, and experienced. Jackie’s friend, Plain Jane, seemed to
be enjoying the baby, too, at least judging from Jackie’s comments. He had his doubts about weird old
Mrs. Bailey White, but from everything he’d heard, the old woman had paid her debt to society and
was settling back into a normal life. If Jackie and Plain Jane were, in a sense, helping with Mrs. Bailey
White’s rehabilitation, that seemed like a good cause, too. Obviously, this was not the life Jackie
expected when she’d married him. Of course, it wasn’t what he had planned on, either. If only there’d
been a way to climb the corporate ladder without being on the road so much of the time, or relocating
the whole family to a place that seemed as far from Boston as Timbuktu.