“No, I mean it,” Hank said. “A lot of these eggheads have come in here and acted like they’re smarter than everyone else. And talking to that Marty fellow requires propping your eyes open with toothpicks. But you—you’re easy to talk to. And you’re trying. I’m on the other side of it, tryin’ like hell, too. My mother always said, ‘I like a try-hard.’ I agree with her. I like somebody scrappy. Man or woman, I don’t care.” Joan detected that Hank was affording himself a sense of magnanimity with this statement, but she let it go. “You’re scrappy, Goodwin. I’ll always stick my neck out for that.”

Joan smiled. “Well, thank you. I hope you know that I feel the same about you. If you need anything, I hope you’ll ask.”

Hank nodded and put his hand in his jacket pocket.

“I do have something for you, partner,” Hank said.

Joan laughed. “Oh?”

At that moment, Hank pulled out his aviator sunglasses and put them on. He then pulled out another pair for her.

“Pilot to pilot,” he said. “You need to look the part.”

Joan took them and laughed. “Oh, this is great,” she said. She slipped them on and then tightened her face, clenched her jaw, and removed all hint of a smile from her face.

“Atta girl!” Hank said.

Joan put her helmet on and, later, took over the controls as they flew home. She got them back to the base, and then Hank took over and landed them.

After she had gotten in her car to drive home that day, she’d picked up the glasses again and put them on. When she had looked in the mirror, it had no longer seemed like a joke.

“Coors Light for Goodwin,” Griff said now, as he handed Joan a beer.

Everyone beat their hands on the tables to thank Hank for circulating another round. Joan started moving through the crowd toward an open window for some air.

She watched as Donna hung back, across the room from Hank. Vanessa was laughing with Steve about something, and Joan wondered what it could be that made Vanessa laugh that hard. She wondered if maybe Vanessa had a thing for Steve.

“Do you think Hank’s in the lead to get the first assignment out of our group?” Lydia asked. Joan had not realized Lydia was behind her.

Vanessa caught Joan’s eye and smiled. Joan instinctually looked away. Did Vanessa know how beautiful she was? Her beauty seemed so obvious to Joan, but no one ever reacted to Vanessa the way they reacted to most beautiful women.

“Are you listening to me, Goodwin?” Lydia asked. “Hank seems like the favorite out of the Group 9 pilots, don’t you think?”

Joan turned to her. Lydia was dressed for a party—she was wearing a blue dress and the sides of her hair were pulled back with two tortoiseshell combs—but her eyes were narrow, her lips pursed tight. Joan realized that being at a party and partying were two different things. “I don’t know,” Joan said. “It’s hard to gauge.”