Devin surveyed the airstrip and couldn’t help but feel good about it.
He’d driven the road grader back through town this morning, with a minimum of mishaps, though he’d had to stop and pull a parking sign back into position, mostly, at Kingfisher’s Court, and had gotten lost again among the seabird roads—they wound and twisted and overlapped as if they were in flight themselves.
He’d started talking advanced grader technique with Peggy, which had turned into a long discussion. Then she’d sent him out to scrape and shape the runway. With her instructions in his head, he’d finally gotten a good feel for the machine and had enjoyed refinishing the runway’s surface before she returned from another flight.
“Nice job,” she said after landing her Stearman 4 biplane and taxiing back and forth o
