With help from his brothers and sister, and large infusions of his Air Force paycheck for improvements, Patrick kept the old tavern in business. He had been determined to turn that money into the security he wanted for his family, and his mother knew he would succeed. After all, he was the head of the household, n am and he was a McLanahan.
The thought of failure never entered Maureen McLanahan's mind.
Surprisingly, the Air Force had cooperated. They had assigned Patrick to a base close to his family and had extended him a few extra years so that he could finish a master's degree and work on the family business' ' His success at the annual SAC Bomb Competition two years in a row, plus his knowledge and skill as a navigator, now made him a very valuable commodity But that extension was about to run out. His future destination-SAC Headquarters in Omaha, Nebraska; the Pentagon in Washington; or a staff position in a B-1 Excalibur unit in South Dakota or Texas-meant high-visibility and prestige, but it also meant moving to a location light-years from home. It was a painful thought.
Why is it so painful?McLanahan asked himself. Why is it so difficult?
"Hello there."
McLanahan jumped- "Christ, Cat, " he asked. "Did you ever hear of knocking?"
Catherine McGraith glided over, took a genteel sniff of him in his hot, sweaty flight suit, and daintily kissed his lips at a maximum distance.
"I thought I'd surprise you," she asked. "Evidently, I succeeded."
Just seeing Catherine seemed to make things better, he thought. For a moment, he forgot what it was that had been bothering him. Catherine's slender figure-skater body, her tiny upturned nose, her white skin and glistening hair, always made him stop and just watch her, study her, take her in.
He reached out, gathered her in his arms, and kissed her full on the lips. "Hmmm. You look very nice," he said. He proceeded to carry her into the living room and fall back with her onto the sofa.
"Patrick!" Catherine said. She pushed him away, but not too hard.
"You'd think you were on alert for a whole month."
"You make me crazy all the time," McLanahan asked. "It doesn't matter how long I've been on alert."
"It must be the green," Catherine asked. "The green flightsuits, the green planes, the green buildings-all that green must make you guys terminally horny."
"You make me terminally horny," he said.
Catherine finally managed to push herself away. "C'mon, now," she said, rising to her feet. "I finally succeeded in perfectly timing your arrival home. We have a reservation at the Firehouse in Old Sacramento for seven-thirty. Your mom had your suit cleaned, and you can-" McLanahan groaned. "Oh, Cat, c'mon. The trainer today was crazy. I had to manually bail out. Besides, I go on alert tomorrow.
I'm really not in the mood for-" "Alert!Again?You just got back from Bomb Comp. They should give you guys a rest. "She paused, looking at him.
"Oh, Patrick. Nancy and Margaret from school will be there tonight.
Please, let's go?"
McLanahan looked up at the ceiling. "I think they are getting rid of me," he said?"
"Getting rid of you? What do you mean "I got a call from Colonel Wilder, the wing commander," he asked. "I didn't talk to him, but Paul White did. He thinks I got an assignment.
"An assignment. Where?"
"I don't know where. But a few months back Colonel Wilder specifically recommended me to a guy in Plans and Operations at SAC Headquarters.
I've got a feeling that's where I'm going."
"SAC Headquarters!In Omaha?Nebraska?" Catherine frowned. "You got an assignment to Nebraska?"
I'm not certain, Cat," McLanahan said — He could feel the excitement washing away. "That's what I wanted."
"I know, I know," Catherine said. She fiddled with her nails.
"It would be a giant step forward, Cat," McLanahan said, looking at her, trying to read her thoughts. "I think I've worn out my welcome here at Ford. It's time for me to move on."
Catherine's eyes met his. "But you were thinking of getting out of the service, Pat," she asked. "We were going to get married and settle down and- "I'm still thinking of doing it," McLanahan replied.
"Especially the marriage part. But… I don't know it depends on what the Air Force has to offer. If I get an assignment to SAC Headquarters-it'll be great. A perfect "Patrick, you run a restaurant, the biggest opportunity.d, "C'mon, Cat, it's not that big," he said.
"It's a little neighborhood pub that can't support me or us. And I just watch over things, that's all. "He walked over to her and put his arms around her waist.
"You don't have to worry about supporting us," Catherine asked. "You know that. You've established yourself in this town. Daddy will-" "No," McLanahan interrupted. "I don't want your dad to bail me out.
"He wouldn't do that-he doesn't need to do that, Pat," she replied, kissing him on the nose. "I want you to be happy. Are you happy in the military?I don't think so. "McLanahan waited a moment before replying. "Sure," he said, "I'd like to get into business-be my own boss someday.
But I'm doing a job I like right now, and the Air Force is paying for my education at the same time."
"And tacking two years onto your commitment every time you take a class," she pointed out. "It seems as if they're making out better on the deal."
"Maybe," McLanahan said. He sat up on the sofa. "Cat, I don't like to blow my horn, but I'm good at what I do. I like being very good at something. It's important to me."
"You can be good for Patrick McLanahan, too," Catherine replied. "The Air Force is pulling your strings like a puppet, Pat. You deserve better than that. Do what you want to do, what's best for you. Not what's best for the damn Air Force."
She sat down in an armchair in the far corner of the room.
"You're not a bridge-burner, Pat," she asked. "But I'm not a nomad, either. The thought of moving every two or three years, chasing a carrot held out by some general sitting on his fat behind in the Pentagon well, it sickens me. Those B-52s sicken me, your job sickens me. "She rose suddenly from the chair and headed for the kitchen. At the doorway she paused and turned.
"I don't know if I can follow you, Patrick," she said.
"Because I'm not sure what you're following. Your own plans and goals-or the damned military's."
She gave him a final look. "Please be ready by seven."
"Hello, Mrs. King. I'm here to see Colonel Wilder."
Colonel Wilder's secretary glanced at her appointment calendar and smiled. "Good morning, Patrick. Colonel Wilder is expecting you in the Command Post. I'll buzz him and tell him you're on your way.
In the Command Post?That was odd-but everything about this meeting was odd. "Thank you, Mrs. King."
"Congratulations again on winning Bomb Comp this year, Patrick," Mrs. King said with a smile. "I know the Colonel is very proud of you and your crew."
"Thanks," McLanahan said. He was about to leave, but paused in the doorway "Mrs. King?"
"Yes?"
"Everyone knows that you executive secretaries are pretty powerful persons, working so close to the commander. "Mrs. King gave a sly smile.
"Yes, Patrick?"
"Any idea what Colonel Wilder wants to see me about?"
"You a" a worrywart," she asked. "That's probably why you won so many trophies. No, Patrick, this all-important, highpowered secretary has no idea why the commander wants to see you. "She smiled at him.
"Why?
Got a guilty conscience?"
"Me?C'mon."
"Well, then, you'd better get going. I'll tell him you're on your way "Thanks.