She kept writing as they walked. “Oh my. Oh my. It sure got heated, didn’t it?”
“That’s why we’re going to the lagoon, where sweet little families sail on Swan Boats and feed the ducks and eat wholesome picnics.”
Mary closed her notebook and stashed her pen in her purse. “I’ll fill in details tonight. Goodness. One page per person is no longer enough.”
“Are you going to show someone? The FBI?”
“Heavens, no.”
“Maybe it’s time. Something’s going on. You should speak up.”
Mary’s forehead creased, and she shook her head.
“Wow. You really don’t like attention, do you?”
She glanced around at the budding trees. “It’s wrong to call attention to yourself. Pride comes before a fall.”
“Sure, but there’s nothing wrong with taking a little pride in a job well done or in accepting a little attention for it.”
Her mouth scrunched up. “Such a fine line between gracious acceptance and reveling in the limelight. Best to avoid attention altogether. Far less dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” This was the same woman he had to drag from a potential riot.
“I know. I know from experience.” Her voice quavered, and she pressed her hand over her mouth.
What could have made her so afraid? “Why? What happened?”
Mary raised startled blue eyes, a strange contrast with the fearless red suit and hat.
If she didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t force her. That wasn’t his way. He never pushed, never made waves.
Jim tilted his head across the street to the Public Garden. “Come on. Let’s enjoy the park. Then we’ll get some ice cream, catch the El back to Charlestown. You can get out of that fool wig and we can see Bunker Hill. What do you say to that?”
“All right.” Head lowered, she proceeded.
Jim crossed the street and ambled along the flower-lined pathway, but his stomach clenched. He could usually perk people up and encourage them, but he’d deflated Mary’s spirits.
She made a good friend, a good companion, but he still couldn’t figure her out. One moment timid, the next bold and determined. Quiet and modest, but she loved to explore and try new things. And he wanted to figure her out, find out what made her tick.
He puffed out a breath and glanced her way. He wasn’t falling for her, was he? Getting confused by the blonde wig? Nah. She was a nice girl, a pretty girl, but not for him. He liked women who overflowed with energy and joy and confidence.
At least she didn’t seem to be falling for him. None of that simpering and hair-twirling and fussing over him. Of course not. She knew better. She remembered him as a fool, drooling over the unattainable Quintessa Beaumont.
Just as well. Wouldn’t be long until they shipped out, and who knew what port they’d call home?
A miniature suspension bridge stretched across the lagoon, and Jim and Mary strolled onto it. On the silvery green waters, ducks floated, bobbing under to feed. Mary stopped and gripped the railing, and Jim leaned against a stone pillar.
On the near bank, a trio of children played with toy sailboats. One of the boats twisted into the wind and toppled over.
“That’s me,” Mary said.
“Hmm?”
She pointed, forehead puckered. “It hoisted its sail into the wind so proudly. ‘Look at me! I’m wonderful!’ And it capsized.”
Jim frowned at the boat, at the child wading into the lagoon to right it. “I don’t under—”
“In sixth grade. The Christmas pageant at school.” Mary traced one finger along the railing. “I was chosen to play Mary. Not only did I have the right name, but I had a lovely voice, Mrs. Cassidy said, the best in class. It was the most important role, and I was proud, so proud. My mother warned me and told me not to put myself above others, but I ignored her. I’d been chosen because I was wonderful. I reveled in the attention.”
