Free Wind Raker - Book IV of The Order of the Air by Melissa Scott, Jo Graham

let me look at the books, ok? Maybe a dollar or two, but — I can’t promise.”
    Mitch nodded. “Sure. I understand. Thanks, Al.” He pushed back his chair, painfully casual. “I’m just going to go check on Stasi.”
    “Sure,” Alma answered, her voice just as muted. Lewis waited until the door closed behind Mitch, and rested his hand on her shoulder.
    “More coffee?”
    She leaned against him, but shook her head. “No, thanks.”
    “Ok.” Lewis poured himself another half cup of coffee, stirred in sugar and milk. “Tell me what Odlum sent. I haven’t had a chance to look at anything.”
    As he’d hoped, her expression eased a little. “It looks like everything. All the specs, the draft of the manual, even notes from the first test groups.”
    “We’re not the first?” Lewis sat up a little straighter. If they weren’t the first — what had the other test pilots found that Odlum didn’t want to accept?
    “I know what you’re thinking,” Alma said, “and it’s not like that. Or at least I don’t think it is. The initial test group was military, and they passed it. The only thing they didn’t like was they said they thought it was underpowered for a plane this size. The first group he hired in Honolulu agreed, so Floyd shut down the test and he’s sending us with a couple of replacement engines that he thinks will do the trick.”
    “Uh-huh,” Lewis said. What he really wanted to know was why Odlum had hired them, an entirely new team that had to be shipped to the islands along with the new engines, instead of continuing with the team he already had. But Alma needed cheering up, and he didn’t feel any of the prickly worry that he’d learned to recognize as the first warnings of his Sight. There would be time to ask the hard questions later. “Has he got someone already to do the installation?”
    “Yes.” Alma nodded. “There’s a company there that Floyd has used before. And the flight engineer who worked with the first team — L. Lauder, whoever he is.”
    That was somewhat reassuring. If the engineer was willing to stick around, then there probably wasn’t anything serious wrong with the plane. Maybe Odlum hadn’t liked their work, or maybe they had other jobs lined up; there were a dozen perfectly harmless reasons Odlum might need a new team to do his testing. He folded his hands around his cup again, turning his concentration inward. There was still nothing there, and he smiled at Alma. “Want to take a quick look at the specs before we turn in?”
    She smiled back, the lines easing from her forehead, and his heart lifted. “Sure. Let me get the package.”
    M itch went upstairs quietly just in case the girls were actually asleep. It seemed like Stasi had gone up to put them to bed a long time ago. She'd missed the whole discussion downstairs about the steamer and the Mulligans and the plans for while they were away. He eased the door to the small bedroom open.
    Dora was asleep in the bed, curled in a little ball against the bedrail, wrapped around her rag doll. Stasi sat in the rocker, Merilee on her lap, legs wrapped around her waist with her head on Stasi's shoulder, the light of the nightlight bathing her in a warm glow. Stasi's eyes were closed, her cheek against the baby's head. Silent tears crept from under her eyelids, making glittering tracks against her cheek, and one glistened on Merilee's hair. Her features were half in shadow, half in light, her lips pursed.
    His weight shifted. The floor creaked, and Stasi looked up. "Oh," she whispered. She got up carefully with Merilee. "I was just putting the girls to bed. Dora went right to sleep but Merilee needed to be rocked."
    Mitch didn't say anything.
    Gently she put Merilee down next to Dora, one quilt over both, two little brown-haired girls, one two and a bit and the other not quite two. Merilee wiggled a little, sprawling with her hand outflung, palm opening.
    Stasi tiptoed out of the room and shut the door, standing