Chapter 33

Junior ... princess of all she surveys ... said, “I’m the one who issued her license ... I supplied her flight training aids ... and watched her like a hawk as she learned to weld.”

She thought about it ... no sense in rushing ... just get it over with.

“She built a Dr-1 when she was 4 ... going on 5. Finished it when she was 6 ... she had a little adult help.”

“A Fokker? Triplane?”

“Aerodrome kit,” Junior said. “She said it didn’t fly like she wanted so ... she sold it, bought a Pitts kit. Aerobatics.”

“The Dr1 ... it is still airworthy?”

“Fella in Ludington owns it ... flies it religiously... 600 hours ... or there about. He says it’s more fun than his 210.”

“Adult help? Some rigger or A&P?”

“Umh ... no ... a local. He had no real interest in the build ... but he was trying to get closer to Surprise ... influence the kid ... score the mom.”

“Ah ... you know some ‘male secrets.’

“I’m The Princess, I have to know stuff like that.”

“The princess?”

“Of the Princessapality.”

“Umh...”

I hauled out a fifty, “Look at the picture.”

He did.

“Look at me.”

“You’re Her!”

“Yup.”

“What were you doing at The Antler?”

“Waiting tables.”

“Why ... you have an entire country to do your bidding.”

“Neighbors,” as if that should settle it. I could see it didn’t.

“I’m here for the summer ... Tyche and her Aunt bought my family vacation home ... I stay with them ... well ... not exactly ... I stay on the Basilisk.”

“What is the basilisk?”

“Come with me,” Junior said.

It’s only a block to the lake. She pointed to the HUGE catamaran tied up at the rectangular dock against the small shore of the north end of the lake.

“Holy Shit,” the driver said. “You live on that?”

“Yes ... wanna see?”

And they did.

Meanwhile ... Surprise and I were buried in customers at the Antler ... she, waiting on tables and I at the sinks ... chapping my hands.

‘Remember, little girl ... cleaner; Acetone ... or mineral spirits. A glass spray bottle for Dawn dish detergent diluted with water. A new toothbrush or small paintbrush for the metal. Maybe Q-Tips and cotton swabs. A heat gun to “melt” the cosmoline,’ I thought as I washed cups, soup bowls and mugs. The mugs are heavy ... and go in the freezer. Ice cold rootbeer. Mmmm.

‘Buy some Dawn ... a big bottle.’

Frank took off his apron. I drained my sinks. Surprise shed her pencil and order pad.

‘And Dr. Pepper ... don’t forget the Dr. Pepper.’