“She’s beautiful, Mr. Tyler.” And she was. The Stearman biplane wasn’t just red, it was lipstick red and shined to a such a gloss that Tim could easily see himself in the finish. Though she was only twenty-five feet long, thirty across the wings, and ten high, she looked like a street fighter or a boxer, tough and ready. Her tail rested on the ground which made her big nine-cylinder radial engine look ready to punch a hole skyward even sitting still. The seven-foot wooden prop had been burnished until it shone.
“Thanks, and if you don’t call me Josh, you don’t get to fly in her.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Josh, sir.”
“Sass,” he sounded disgusted but the smile was genuine. “You have been sleeping with my daughter.”
Not sleeping so much…Tim kept that thought to himself.
The slap on his back told h
