Bertie brought the hilarity down to earth. “Wesley can’t disappearat Thanksgiving,” he pointed out. “Isn’t November the month you handle all the insurance policy renewals?”
“Actually, we work on those throughout the last several months every year,” Wesley said.
It was the workDeliadid for the last several months every year. Insurance renewals were run-of-the-mill tasks she’d been staying late to complete all month, with Wesley cutting out early so he could enjoy dinner with Amy and Mrs. Beekman.
“Still, don’t let Congressman Donnelly pressure you to be gone at Thanksgiving,” Bertie said. “You may find yourself shorthanded in light of Delia’s additional services to the CRB.”
“Delia will find it no burden,” Wesley said, raising his glass and sending her a complimentary smile. “She is the embodiment of competence. For the past six years, she has been my right hand for completing my annual contract renewals, and this year shall be no different.”
“To Delia!” Congressman Donnelly said, raising his glass as well.
Everyone around the table joined in the toast. Delia managed a smile, although she clenched her teeth so hard it made her jaw ache. She never minded hard work. Hard work and making Wesley’s law firm thrive gave purpose and meaning to her world. And if it meant that she worked late five nights a week or lost out on the chance to meet a suitable young man and form a romantic partnership, none of it mattered because she always believed her purpose in life was to keep Wesley Chandler and his law firm afloat.
Now she knew better, and her long hours merely bought Wesley the freedom to court Mrs. Beekman. What a mistake she had made.
“How long will you need Delia’s services?” Wesley asked.
“I’ve asked for a six-month commitment from Lieutenant Delaney. I would like for Delia to be on hand for his initial meetings with potential donors and to draft the legal agreements.”
“Done!” Wesley replied. “Think no more of it. Delia will conjure a solution to your problem before you even know it exists.”
Delia felt like a potted plant the way Wesley discussed her. Bertie cast a worried glance her way. “Perhaps we should ask the lady if she would be amenable to the task. It seems we are asking a great deal of her in addition to her normal responsibilities.”
How ironic that Mr. Hoover showed more compassion for her welfare than Wesley. It hardened her resolve. She stood to fetch the pitcher of iced tea to refill everyone’s glasses.
“Please, you don’t need to fear for me,” she said to Bertie. “I’ve worked with Wesley for six years and managed to keep his office afloat because I have no social life and few needs.”
She proceeded around the table, filling glasses, all the while watching Wesley from the corner of her eye. He had frozen, watching her through cautious eyes as if he feared she were a bomb about to explode.
“I gave everything I had to Wesley’s law firm, but now I look forward to working for the CRB. You don’t need to worry that I will be stretched too thin to accomplish the job. I will contact you by this time tomorrow with a preliminary plan for myself and Lieutenant Delaney to begin the fundraising.”
Delia reached Wesley’s side and leaned across him to refill his glass. The entire room turned silent as the slosh of ice cubes and tea poured into his crystal goblet.
“Wesley,” she added, keeping her voice as pleasant as a springtime breeze, “please take this as my notice that I resign, effective immediately.” With that, she thumped the pitcher of tea beside his plate and strode out of the town house without a backward glance.
12
Finn didn’t want to admit it, but Delia’s antiwar stance had gotten beneath his skin. She was acting like one of those rigid pacifists so committed to their position that they demonized the opposition rather than try to understand them. Did she believe he was ignorant of the horrors of war? He’d held the hands of men as they died. He’d seen women strapped to plows, tilling the fields because their horses had been requisitioned by the Army. Those women didn’t complain or criticize the men in uniform. They were grateful to the soldiers for protecting their farms and way of life.
He was still mulling over Delia’s hostility as he arrived back at Camp Mills. It was almost midnight, and flickering lanterns created pools of light among the tents. Hushed voices and the occasional clink of chains mingled with crickets as he propelled himself on crutches through the sprawling encampment.
The glow of a lantern illuminated Finn’s tent. Daniel Richardson, his tentmate from Kansas, always read late into the night. Permission to keep a lantern burning after taps was one of the few privileges afforded to officers.
Finn opened the flap of the tent, and Daniel rolled off his cot to help with the crutches. “How did it go?”
The last thing Finn wanted to discuss was seeing the love of his life again and hearing her disdain for everything he fought for over the past three years.
“Fine,” he said. The canvas of his cot let out a sharp squeak as he lowered himself onto it. The tent smelled of damp earth and wool uniforms. “It looks as if I’ll be doing fundraising for the next several months. I still should have some time to help you train the student pilots a few days per week.”
“Do you mind if I keep reading?” Daniel asked, and Finn shook his head. It was a warm night, and after shucking his uniform, he lay back on his cot in his skivvies, staring at the canvas tent sloping above him. The lantern cast flickering shadows, and the low murmur of voices drifted in from outside, punctuated by the occasional clatter of boots or the distant laugh of a soldier.
Meanwhile, Daniel read letter after letter. The guy was so homesick, he reread the letters from his wife almost every evening. Though Daniel was only twenty-five, he’d been married for eight years and had two kids.
“Do you ever regret getting married so young?”
“Nope,” Daniel said. “I started being truly happy on the day Amy Wells agreed to marry me. I never looked back.”
What would have happened if Finn hadn’t messed up but instead had married Delia like they planned? If he hadn’t taken her three hundred dollars, would it have been possible to escape the cannery and make a go of things? He took a big risk with her money, but it paid off. Within a year he had four thousand dollars to show for it, although Delia never forgave him for gambling with her money without permission.
