Jennie looked at me. "This is the way to travel," she said. "A whole plane to ourselves."
I looked around the empty cabin of the ICA that Buzz had put on special flight for me when I had called. I checked my watch. It was almost nine o'clock. I moved it forward two hours to Chicago time. I felt the slight change of pressure in my ears. We were starting to come down.
"It must be great to own an airline," Jennie said, smiling.
"It comes in handy when you have to get someplace in a hurry."
"I don't get you."
''What don't you get, girl?"
"You," Jennie said. "You baffle me. Most guys I understand. They got their eye on the ball and they're always for making points. But you, you're different. You already got everything."
"Not everything."
She nodded at the lights of Chicago below us. "By that, I suppose you mean you don't own what's down there."
"That's right. I don't want much though, I'm satisfied just owning what's in here."
Her eyes grew cloudy. "What happens if we go boom?"
I snapped my fingers. "What the hell! Easy come, easy go."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
She glanced out of the window for a moment, then turned back to me. "I guess you do own me in a kind of way."
"I wasn't talking about you," I said. "I was talking about this plane."
"I know, but all the same, it's true. You do own everybody who works for you, even if you don't feel you do. Money does that."
"Money does lots of things for me," I said.
"Why don't you let it buy you a pair of shoes?"
I looked down at my stockinged feet. "Don't worry," I said. "I got shoes. They're somewhere on this plane."
She laughed, then became serious again. "Money can buy you time. It also lets you make people over, into what you want them to be."
I raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were a philosopher as well as an actress."
"You don't know that I'm an actress – yet."
"You better be," I said. "Otherwise, I'm going to look awful foolish."
Again, her eyes were serious. "You wouldn't like that, would you?"
"Nobody likes it," I said. "I'm no different than anybody else."
"Then why do you do it, Jonas? You don't need to. You don't need the money. What do you want to make pictures for?"
I leaned my head back against the seat. "Maybe because I want them to remember me for something else besides gunpowder, airplanes and plastic dishes."
"They'll remember you longer for that than a movie.
"Will they?" I turned my head to look at her. "How do you remember a man? Because of the thrill he gave you? Or because he built the tallest building in the world?"
"You remember all those things," she said softly. "If those were the things he did."
"You are a philosopher. I didn't think you understood men so well."
She laughed. "I’ve been a woman all my life. And men are the first thing a girl tries to understand."
I felt the wheels touch and we were on the ground. Unconsciously I felt myself leaning forward against the wheel to keep her from bucking. Then I relaxed. Habit was a funny thing. You landed every plane, whether you were at the controls or not.
Jennie shivered and pulled her thin coat around her as the first cold blast of air came through the open door. There was snow on the ground as we walked across the landing strip to the terminal.
A chauffeur stopped me, his hand touching his cap respectfully. "Your car's right outside, Mr. Cord."
Jennie was still shivering as we got into the car. "I forgot how cold winter can be," she said.
In forty-five minutes, we were at the Drake Hotel. The assistant manager greeted us at the door. "Good to see you again, Mr. Cord. Your apartment is all ready. Your office called from the Coast." He snapped his fingers and an elevator appeared by magic. We sped up with him in solitary splendor.
"I took the liberty of ordering a hot supper for you, Mr. Cord."
"Thank you, Carter," I said. "That was thoughtful of you."
Carter held open the apartment door. A small table was set up in the dining alcove and there were fresh, gleaming bottles on the bar.
"If you'll just call down when you're ready, Mr. Cord, we'll send it right up."
"Give us a few minutes to wash up, Carter," I said.
"Very good, sir."
I glanced at Jennie, who was still shivering from the cold. "Carter!"
"Yes, Mr. Cord?"
"Miss Denton obviously wasn't prepared for the cold. Do you think we could manage to get her a warm coat?"
Carter allowed himself a brief glance at Jennie. "I believe it could be arranged, sir. Mink, of course?"
"Of course," I said.
"Very good, sir. I'll have a selection up here shortly for mademoiselle."
"Thank you, Carter."
He bowed and the door closed behind him. Jennie turned to me, her eyes wide. "That does it! I thought nothing could impress me any more but that does. Do you know what time it is?"
I looked at my watch. "Ten after twelve."
"Nobody, but nobody, can go shopping for mink coats after midnight."
"We're not going shopping. They're being sent up here."
She stared at me for a moment, then nodded. "Oh, I see," she said. "That makes a difference?"
"Of course."
"Tell me. What makes you so big around here?"
"I pay my rent."
"You mean you keep this apartment all the time?"
"Of course," I said. "I never know when I might be in Chicago."
"When were you here last?"
I rubbed my cheek. "About a year and a half ago."
The telephone rang. I picked it up, then held it out to Jennie.
A look of surprise came over her face. "For me?" she said. "But nobody knows I'm here."
I went into the bathroom and closed the door. When I came out, a few minutes later, she was sitting on the side of the bed, a dazed look on her face. "It was the furrier," she said. "He wanted to know which I preferred – light or dark mink. Also, what size."
"What size did you tell him?"
"Ten."
I shook my head. "I would have thought you took a twelve. Nobody ever buys a mink coat size ten. It hardly pays."
"Like I said, you're crazy," she said. Then she threw herself into my arms and hugged me. "But you're crazy nice."
I laughed aloud. Mink will do it every time.