Read Online On Wings Of The Morning by Marie Bostwick - Free Book Online Page A

And here I am, offering you the chance because I know what it’s like to need to fly, but you keep giving me the brush-off!”
    â€œI can’t, Roger.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI told you. I just can’t,” I said firmly, but then, seeing the disappointed look on his face, I softened my tone. “You’re sweet to offer, Roger. Really. But I can’t let you do it. It’s too much.”
    He was quiet. He knew there was no point in arguing with me.
    â€œNow, is there anything else I can get for you?”
    â€œNo. Just keep the coffee coming, please. I need it this morning.”
    I gave his cup a warm-up. “You look tired. Late night?”
    â€œYeah. I was up half the night trying to untangle my books.” He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “I tell you, Georgia. I’m a good pilot and a good teacher, but I’m no businessman. The girl who used to keep my books got married and moved to Carbondale, and I haven’t been able to find anybody to replace her. I’ve been trying to do them myself, but I can’t make heads or tails of it. I don’t know who I owe or who owes me. And don’t even talk about the tax man.” He groaned. “If I can’t get my books straightened out they’ll audit me for sure.” Roger took a deep draught from his coffee cup and looked up at me.
    â€œWhat? What are you grinning about?”
    â€œRoger, I’ve got a business proposition for you.”
    Â 
    For every two hours I spent working on his books, Roger would give me one hour of flying lessons. It was a perfect arrangement for both of us. Roger wanted to make it a one-to-one trade, arguing that my time was just as valuable as his, which was sweet, but I wouldn’t go for it. Bookkeepers come a lot cheaper than flight instructors, and I wanted to be very certain that Roger looked at this as a business deal, not a favor. I didn’t want to be beholden to anyone.
    After getting off work that night I headed over to Roger’s office and started trying to untangle his books. And, believe me, they were a tangle.
    â€œHow long is it since your old bookkeeper left?” I asked as I opened yet another shoe box full of loose receipts and began separating them into piles for personal, business, and unknown.
    â€œAbout six months,” Roger answered, a little chagrined. “Pretty bad, is it?”
    â€œYou’ve got yourself a mess here, for sure.” I sighed. “But it could be worse. Your old girl had a pretty good filing system worked out before she left. If we can just get all these loose papers organized, I’ll be able to get you straightened out before your taxes are due. Now, you said you’ve got an employee?”
    â€œYeah, Stubbs Peterson. He’s my mechanic. Been with me since I opened. He’s not much on looks and is cranky as all get-out, but he knows more about plane engines than anybody alive. He was a real find. He worked in California until a couple of years ago. Could be working anyplace in the country and for more money, but he’s from here originally. When his father died and his mother got sick he came home to take care of her. There aren’t a whole lot of jobs in aviation around here, so when he came by looking for work I snapped him up. I couldn’t run the place without him. Do you know, he actually met the Wright brothers?”
    â€œReally,” I commented as I shuffled through a mountain of papers and manila folders. “He sounds like a find all right. Do you pay him?”
    â€œPardon?” Roger asked.
    â€œYour mechanic. Stubbs. Do you pay him? Because I can’t find any pay stubs for him anywhere, or for you. I can’t find the checkbook, either. You have one, don’t you?”
    â€œOh! I should have told you.” He jumped up out of the wobbly desk chair he’d been sitting in, crossing the office in three big strides, and opened the