SWIRLS OF HEAVY SNOWFLAKES, DRIVEN BY A BRISK wind that whistled across the vast expanse of concrete runways that is New York City’s Idlewild Airport, dashed against the big picture window in the Personnel Lounge and spiraled back into the murky whiteness of the winter morning. Inside the comfortable room, four girls, all dressed in the trim, blue uniform of Federal Airlines stewardesses, sat in soft leather armchairs.
“Of all the luck!” One of the girls, a tall brunette, grinned as she shook her head in mock despair. “Here it is, the middle of the worst winter we’ve had in years, and what do I draw as my new assignment? New York to Chicago! The two coldest towns in the world! And you two, you lucky kids, get the Florida run!”
Vicki Barr tucked a strand of her ash blond hair in place, and her laugh tinkled like Chinese chimes stirred by a gentle breeze.
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