Across a parting in the crowd, she saw two naval officers in navy blue overcoats and caps—“covers” in the naval jargon. One man had fair hair and one had dark.
The dark-haired officer had a friendly, open face, very much like Jim Avery from back home in Vermilion, Ohio. Except Jim was tall and scrawny, and this man was tall and ... not scrawny.
Jim had attended the Naval Academy, and Mary hadn’t seen him since high school. A lot could happen to a person in five years.
Mary inched closer, and with each step the officer looked more like Jim Avery, except he held himself straighter, with more assurance.
He laughed at something his friend said, and in a flash, Mary was sitting around a table at the soda fountain with her best friend Quintessa Beaumont, Quintessa’s boyfriend Hugh Mackey, and Hugh’s best friend, Jim. All of them enraptured by Quintessa’s effervescence.
Jim’s gaze drifted to her, and he gave her the mild smile men gave silver girls like Mary, without the spark reserved for golden girls like Quintessa.
Oh, why had she come over? How silly of her. She returned the mild smile and angled her path away.
But Jim peered at her and took a step in her direction. “Mary? Mary Stirling?”
He actually remembered her? “Jim Avery?”
With a grin, he strode forward and gripped her hand. “Well, I’ll be. What are you doing in Boston?”
“I work here. Almost four years now.” She gestured to the grand expanses of scaffolding. “I’m a secretary.” No need to go into prideful detail.
“Isn’t that swell?” In the icy sunshine, his eyes were clearly hazel.
Had Mary ever noticed that before? “I assume the Navy brought you to town?”
Jim beckoned to his companion. “Mary, this is my friend, Archer Vandenberg. Arch, this is Mary Stirling from Ohio. Arch and I went to the Academy together, and we’ve just been assigned to theAtwood.”
“Oh yes.” The Gleaves-class destroyer had been launched at the shipyard in December and had almost completed the fitting-out process before commissioning.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mary.” Arch spoke with the measured tones of upper-crust New England, but the shine in his blue eyes said he didn’t deem a Midwestern secretary beneath his acquaintance. “Four years in Boston, did you say?”
“Yes.”
“Say...” Jim nudged his friend.
Arch crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Mary. “Yes, she’ll do quite nicely.”
She drew back. “Pardon?”
Jim laughed. “Never mind him. We were just talking about how we’re new to town and wish we knew someone to show us around.”
The thought of an excursion lifted her smile. “I could do that. I love exploring this city. So much history.”
“Swell. I had visions of Jim and Gloria and I walking into the harbor while trying to navigate.” Arch held up the launching program as if it were a map and squinted at it.
Jim dipped a partial bow. “And you’ll save me from being the third wheel. Again.”
What fun. Although Yvette was a dear friend, she socialized with French refugees, and Mary didn’t speak French. “How about this Sunday? You could join me for church or meet me afterward.”
“A real church with pews? That doesn’t rock with the waves? Count us in.” Jim pulled a pen from the breast pocket of his shirt. “Arch, you have something—”
“I have a notepad.” Mary always did. She wrote down the church’s address and sketched a map.
The band stopped playing. Mary passed Jim the slip of paper and turned to watch the ceremony under a bright blue sky. If only the temperature hadn’t dipped to sixteen degrees, one detail Mary couldn’t control.
TheEttingerfilled her sight, sleek as an arrow, 348 feet in length and 36 feet across at the beam. Above her red hull, everything was painted gray. A string of colorful pennants swooped from her prow up to her mast and down to her stern.
Mary pressed up on her toes. What a joy to watch ceremonies as keels were laid down and ships were launched. Thank goodness her grandfather and Mr. Pennington had become fast friends in school.
