“An air show. In Burbank. Fellow’s gone and laid out an airfield there, just the other side of the Hollywood Hills. They’ll be testing out some new planes, flying stunts. You should come with me.”

Irene snatched her cup and saucer from the table and took them to the sink and turned on the faucet. The water streamed over her fingers and swirled around the blue leaves of her mother’s second-best china. “I have to work,” she said.

“Call in sick, why don’t you.”

“Anyway, you should sleep. Driving all night like that.”

“Oh, I can stay awake a few more hours. I was just thinking, out there on the highway, I don’t spend near enough time with you. Leave you all alone for days. Who knows what kind of trouble you might be getting up to?”

Irene thought she might be having a heart attack. Her hands shook as she washed out the cup, the saucer, and dried them with a dishcloth, one by one. She heard the clink of cutlery on china, the mouthy noises as Mr. Foster chewed his eggs and swallowed.

“Said in the newspaper, that fellow Sam Mallory’s going to be demonstrating his new airplane, the one he’s flying to Sydney, Australia, next week.”

“Is that so?”

“That’s so. You remember that business, last summer. The fellow who crashed his airplane in the open ocean, flying to Hawai’i in that pineapple derby, and they picked him up eleven days—”

“I remember,” said Irene.

“Well. Now the poor sucker’s going to fly to Sydney. What do you think of that?”

“I think it sounds exciting. I wish him luck.”

“That cup’s about dry, I think.”

Irene took the cup and saucer to the cupboard. Her father drank his coffee and wiped his mouth. “Say. Have you heard he’s taking a woman with him?”

“Is he? Well. That’s news, isn’t it?”

“Said so in the newspaper. She’s going to be copilot and navigator. The funniest thing. Her name’s Irene Foster.”

Irene shut the cabinet door.

“That’s some coincidence, isn’t it?” her father said.

“I guess it’s a common enough name.”

Mr. Foster had finished the eggs. He took a last corner of toast and swiped it on the plate to gather up the last streaks of yolk. Popped it into his mouth and winked at her.

“You know something, pumpkin? I always did think airplanes would be right up your alley.”