Trophy for Eagles by Walter J. Boyne Page B

him.
    Winter's laugh was joyous and genuine. "Frank, Millie is gaga about flying, and I wanted her to meet you both."
    As the Lindberghs and the Winters watched, Millie flowed naturally toward Bandfield amid the crackle of ice breaking, hesitantly offering her arm for him to take. Their mutual embarrassment slipped from them like the red slips from the sky after sunset, and they became instantly at ease with each other even as they forgot the others. Winters winked at Lindbergh and took his mother by the arm, and they went to eat, shepherded to their table by a headwaiter whose fawning would have sickened Bandfield had he noticed.
    Bandfield stepped back before they sat down to really look at Millie. She was molded into a blue chiffon dress, its soft flowing lines broken at top and sides by knotted white scarfs. He had never seen anyone more lovely. The room became multidimensional. The one that counted was the hot earnest level where he learned all about Millie. On the next level were the Lindberghs and the Winters, who tried in vain for a while to include them in their general conversation. Winter wanted to find out about Bandfield's airplane, but after getting a few short yeses and nos, gave up. The third level was the room, filled now with friends, including the snooty waiter who was asking him what he wanted to eat.
    He hadn't looked at the menu.
    "What are you having, Jack?" he asked, anxious for a clue so that he wouldn't order something too expensive.
    "Oscar does the best steak tartare in the world."
    He turned to the waiter. "Oscar, I'll have the same. And make mine well-done."
    The waiter paused and looked at Winter.
    "Make mine well-done too, please, filet mignon style."
    Bandfield turned back to Millie. She was smiling fondly at him, as if he'd just done something clever. He felt it must have been the adroit way he handled Oscar.
    "What did you order?"
    "Lobster. We never get it in Green Bay."
    He exulted in the animation of her face; every word seemed to have a counterpart expression in her eyes and on her lips.
    She went on, "What do you eat in California besides oranges?"
    "Abalone, the best seafood in the world, better than lobster even." It was a guess—he'd never tasted lobster, and had abalone only once. "You dive down in the water, and use a tire iron to pull the abalone off the rocks. Then you pound it thin and fry it."
    "Do you fry the rocks or the tire iron? Sounds just like our snipe hunts." She looked at him to see if he had taken the bait. "If you come out to Wisconsin, we'll get you on one. You can be the bag man—he's the most important." They laughed, not certain who was kidding whom.
    "Sure, sounds great. And if you come to California, I'll introduce you to all the movie stars." He wondered at what he was saying; her humor had elevated his own, got him joking as he rarely was able to do with a stranger.
    The thought of Hollywood obviously appealed to her. "I really want to go there. I'd love to see a movie star." She hesitated, not sure if she should confide in him. "Did you see Son of the Sheik? I couldn't believe it when Valentino died." She caught herself, shifting to less revealing ground.
    "Do you like baseball?"
    They were running the conversation together, each eager for the other to talk, each with too much to say. He felt at ease, expansive, and didn't worry much about which fork to use.
    "It was the only sport I played in college. I lettered in my junior and senior years."
    Mrs. Lindbergh watched with approval as Bandy and Millie submerged themselves in animated conversation, oblivious to the others. She was content to have Charles talking to the safely married Frances while she chatted with Jack.
    Bandfield was bragging about his airplane when she asked, "Did you know Uncle Jack is giving me flying lessons?"
    Unbelievably, her stock soared. A woman pilot!
    "How do you like it?"
    "It's fine, except I get sick all the time."
    "You'll get over it. It's just nerves."
    They went on at