Read Airborn for Free Online Page B

breath.
    I looked over at Kate de Vries, who was tilted forward, peering intently out the hatchway, and saw her exhale.
    “That was something,” she said with complete satisfaction, and then grinned. The expression seemed to take charge of her whole face, and I felt myself grinning back.
    “It was, miss,” I said.
    “Come along, then,” said Miss Simpkins impatiently, hands fluttering. I led them out of the landing bay and escorted them along the keel catwalk toward the passenger decks. Miss Simpkins was most impractically shod in heels, and they kept getting stuck in the metal floor grille so that she jerked and lurched and sighed and snorted all the way.
    “What kind of corridor is this?” she complained.
    “Passengers usually don’t traverse it, miss,” I said. “It’s on account of your late arrival that you see this part of the ship at all.”
    Now, Kate de Vries, on the other hand, was sensibly wearing flat-soled shoes. She ambled along, oblivious to her chaperone’s convulsions. She gazed all about her as though planning on drafting a blueprint when she got half a chance.
    “Is it your first time aboard an airship, Miss?” I asked her.
    “It is, yes,” she said.
    “If you’re interested, there will be a tour later this morning.”
    “I’d like that very much.” She turned to Miss Simpkins, whose shoe had come off and was stuck in the metal grille. She was bent down tugging at it, violently.
    “Allow me, miss,” I said. I handed it back to her.
    I caught the girl’s eye and swear it had a glint of mischief in it, and I had to freeze my face so not to share her smile.
    “Some flat-soled shoes would be more comfortable if you wish to join us on the tour later,” I suggested.
    “I can’t imagine anything I’d less like to do,” muttered the bony chaperone.
    “Perhaps someone can push you along in a wheelchair,” the girl said amiably.
    “That won’t be necessary, thank you very much, Kate.”
    Kate. The name suited her. Quick and to the point.
    We reached the passenger quarters, and I led them up the grand staircase to A-Deck where the first-class passengers stayed. The swirling banister was all walnut, though hollow in the center to save on weight, and at the top of the red-carpeted steps was a magnificent Michaelangelico fresco. The fresco was enough to quiet the chaperone for a few seconds, and her heels didn’t fall off, which made her even more cheerful.
    People had finished off their breakfasts now and were strolling about, yawning and stretching and groaning contentedly, weighing about ten pounds more apiece. Down the central corridor we went, and right at the end was the Topkapi stateroom. The luggage trolley was already waiting outside the door, ferried up by stewards while Miss Simpkins had been lurching about on her high heels.
    I unlocked the door for them and led them inside. Quite a palace it was, furnished with sofas and wingback chairs and side tables and coffee tables and footstools; vases of fresh flowers bloomed all over the place, making it smell like the botanical gardens of Florence. The outside wall was one panoramic window, burgundy velvet curtains tied back so all you could see were cirrus clouds scalloping the sky and the blue of the sparkling Pacificus, and off to the hazy shores of North America melting into the horizon.
    And this was just the sitting room. Miss de Vries looked around as if enchanted. The stateroom was named after a Sultan’s palace in Constantinople, and it deserved its name. I myself always liked having a gander when we were in harbor. In particular I liked slipping off my shoes and scrunching my bare toes against that plush burgundy carpet.
    I showed them their adjoining bedrooms—both had four-poster beds with lace canopies—and the bathroom with the famous bathtub. It was the only one on board, water being such a heavy commodity. Everyone else just got showers.
    “If there’s anything you need, ladies, just pull the cord”—I