Peggy placed the thermos on the counter and tucked a stray lock of red hair behind her ear. “There you go, Ace. Want a sugar donut to go along with that?”
“No thanks, Peg. Coffee’s good.” Ace finished his eggs, laid a tip on the bar, and stood, tucking his scarf into his bomber jacket. Peggy met him at the register.
As he handed her the cash, she gazed at his handsome weather-worn features. “I just have to ask,” she said. “Do you ever wish you were an iceberg wrangler instead of a cloud pilot?”
“Oh, no,” he said, his eyes dreamy. “Cloud harvesting is in my blood. My dad did it, my grandpa, too. In fact, he was one of the first. Bringing that vapor in, releasing it over the desert or a forest fire; it’s an awesome feeling. Wouldn’t trade it for the world. Today, along with about twenty other airmen, I’m scheduled for a drop over that drought area down by Shawnee Junction.”
Thermos in hand, Ace stepped out of the airport diner and strode across the tarmac. His scarf had come loose and one end flapped in the crisp morning breeze. Through the large glass windows, Peggy watched him climb on board his airship, The Rainmaker . She really should be loading the dishwasher; Harry was out with the flu. But, she couldn’t resist the sight.
The great ship lifted into the blue sky and turned toward the soft mountains of gray cloud to the west. Holding her breath, Peggy waited for the unfurling of the nets. They ballooned out, white and blazing in the sunlight, and filled with air, like sails on a frigate of old. She exhaled with a wide smile before returning to her work.
Peggy loved her job.
-by K Wodke