“Dee, I wish I could heal the war that’s tearing the world apart. I don’t know how. You don’t either. Let’s stop attacking each other and work out a plan, okay?”
“Does this plan involve you getting in a plane and dropping bombs on people?”
Anger surged anew, but he tamped it down and met her gaze. “I want peace. So do you. We’re not going to get there by attackingeach other. I promised Bertie six months to help raise funds for the CRB. I have no idea how to do that, and apparently people wiser than me think you can help with that, but it’s not going to happen tonight.”
Delia ran a hand through her hair and wiped the contempt from her expression. Her face was now as calm and emotionless as a cameo. “I apologize,” she said without emotion. “I can continue.”
“I can’t,” he said. He was due back at Camp Mills before taps, and he’d already stressed his leg enough for the day. He grabbed his crutches and faced the door. “Let’s meet again tomorrow when we’ll both have cooler heads. Can you come out to Camp Mills? There’s a Red Cross Hostess House on the base. You can find me there tomorrow morning at nine o’clock.”
He headed toward the garden gate. Disappointment and frustration simmered inside, and he could only pray that their meeting tomorrow morning would go better.
Delia returned to the town house and went to the kitchen to help Louisa, Bertie’s wife, set out the buffet dinner. Louisa was a strong-jawed woman who had met Bertie while they were both in college earning degrees in geology. She later followed him around the world to various gold and silver mines. Tonight she supported him by hosting a casual dinner, arranging cheese and tomatoes on a tray while Delia rolled slices of turkey, chicken, and roast beef for the sandwich platter.
All the while Delia eavesdropped on the men in the other room, smoking cigars and gossiping about yacht racing, but mostly she was listening for Wesley’s voice. He didn’t even like sailing, and yet he joined in the discussion with gusto.
“Would you please fill bowls with mayonnaise and mustard sauce?” Louisa asked.
“Of course,” Delia said. “Is there any horseradish?” The question was out of her mouth before Delia realized she neededto quit fussing over Wesley. He loved horseradish on roast beef, and she would always bring some when she fetched their meals from the delicatessen. But she could hardly change her mind once Louisa pulled a jar of horseradish from the icebox. Delia scooped some of it into a small dish and set it beside the meat platter.
Bertie arrived to help carry everything to the sideboard. “You’ve worked the details out with Lieutenant Delaney?”
“Of course,” she replied calmly. “Our first meeting is scheduled for tomorrow morning at Camp Mills.”
“Excellent,” Bertie said before carrying the platter away.
She and Louisa waited while the men had served themselves from the buffet, and Wesley complimented Mrs. Hoover on the fine array of offerings.
“I love horseradish,” he said with a smile at Mrs. Hoover as he helped himself at the sideboard.
Soon they were all settled around the dining table. Louisa gamely joined in the conversation about an upcoming yacht race scheduled over Thanksgiving weekend. Laughter mingled with good-natured rivalry as Bertie jested with Congressman Donnelly about whose yacht ruled the seas. Given his flushed face and overly loud voice, it appeared that Congressman Donnelly might have had one too many glasses of sherry.
“Wesley!” he called from the end of the dining table. “Tell us you’ll join me on my crew for the Thanksgiving race. There’s no other yacht as fine as myAurora, but Bertie paid a fortune to refit hisSequoia, so the competition will be tough.”
Welsey cleared his throat. “I won’t be available this Thanksgiving.”
Bertie sent Wesley an engaging smile. “I heard you and your daughter would be heading up to the Hudson Valley at Thanksgiving. Tell us, is the lovely Mrs. Beekman involved? I gather her estate is up near Tarrytown.”
Delia scowled at the mention of Mrs. Beekman, and Wesley casther a nervous glance. He seemed momentarily tongue-tied, and tiny beads of sweat formed on his brow as he cleared his throat.
“Yes, I expect I shall pay a visit to the Beekman estate,” he said. “But your yacht race sounds exciting. Tell me more about improvements to theSequoia.”
Wesley’s attempt to change the topic completely failed. Bertie continued his train of thought without pause. “I always thought Horace Beekman should have dredged a deeper pier at his estate. It would be the perfect place in which to launch a yacht.”
“Try to convince Mrs. Beekman to deepen the pier,” Congressman Donnelly said to Wesley. “I heard that wedding bells might be in the offing.”
A wave of heat flooded Delia while Wesley let out a stiff laugh. “There is no such understanding,” he said. “You’ll have to appeal to the lady herself if you wish the pier to be improved.”
Louisa joined in the conversation. “When I saw the two of you at the Henderson gala last month, the pair of you looked as happy as two lovebirds.”
“Marry her,” Congressman Donnelly said. “Anything to get that prime river frontage made suitable for an afternoon on the water.”
“No,” Louisa said in a teasing voice. “He should marry her because it would be lovely to see two widowed people find a second chance at happiness.”
Congressman Donnelly shook his head. “No, marry her for the river frontage.”
Everyone, even Wesley, laughed.
Delia silently fumed as the ribbing continued. It seemed the entire population of Manhattan knew about the relationship between Wesley and the lovely Constance Beekman. While Delia stayed late at the office to tend to business, Wesley was galivanting around town indulging in a high-society courtship.
