“I see. And that makes a strapping good officer.”
“I hope so.” The Navy had plotted an excellent course for him, and he couldn’t wait to see which career they’d point him to.
“Well, the Boston Navy Yard is known for its destroyers. You’ll love theAtwood.”
Jim smiled down at the familiar, unfamiliar face. “You know, this might be the longest conversation you and I have ever had.”
“I’m sure of it.” Mary’s eyes sparkled. “With Quintessa around, how could we have gotten a word in edgewise?”
His chest contracted. He hadn’t spoken or heard that name in years, yet it never left his thoughts. He forced a light smile. “True.”
“I never minded. I could enjoy fun evenings out without being responsible for conversation. And Hugh and Quintessa were so entertaining.”
The sound of his former best friend’s name hurt even more, but it was his turn to respond. “Are you—still in contact?” The question scraped on his throat.
“Oh yes. She’s my dearest friend in the world, and we write every week. She’s in Chicago now. It was best for her to leave town after...” Her voice petered out.
After Hugh cheated on Quintessa while she was away at college, got the other girl pregnant, and married her. “Still can’t believe he did such a thing.”
“Of course not. You’re an honorable man. All those years you pined over Quintessa, but you never—”
“What?” He stopped beside a basswood tree, the fountain behind him tinkling like Quintessa’s laughter. “She was Hugh’s girl. I’d never—”
“I know.” Mary gave him a compassionate look that saw right through him. “We knew you’d never interfere. You’re not that kind of man. But we also knew you were crazy about her.”
Jim’s mouth tightened, and he marched toward the brick church building. “I was a fool.”
“Nonsense. We were all dazzled by her.”
He still was. “Main reason I haven’t gone home much since I graduated. It wasn’t right, being crazy over another man’s girl. I needed to break free.”
“Me too, in a way.”
“How’s that?” He faced her.
Mary reached up to a low-hanging branch still waiting for its leaves. “I was content living in her shadow. No one paid attention to me, and I liked that. But my parents said I needed to step out and find out who I was and what I could do, and my grandfather found me this job with his old friend.”
“Did it work?”
“I think so. I love my job. I’m using my talents for a good purpose.” She smiled and fluttered the bare branch in front of her face like a fan. “And I can still hide in obscurity.”
Jim laughed. After his time in the Academy, with everyone angling to get noticed, to be liked, to get ahead, Mary’s attitude was refreshingly foreign.
3
Friday, March 28, 1941
Mary curled up in her armchair in the bay window of her apartment, sipped her morning cup of unpatriotic tea, and tucked her bathrobe around her slippered feet. If she nudged aside the lace curtains and tilted her head, she could gaze up Charlestown’s Monument Avenue to the Bunker Hill Monument.
What more could she say in her letter to Quintessa? The poor dear was lonely in Chicago and still reeling from heartbreak. Almost two years had passed since Hugh’s betrayal, but they had dated close to five years, waiting for Quintessa to graduate from college.
Except Hugh couldn’t wait.
After all Quintessa had done for her, all the years of deep friendship, Mary longed to do something to ease her pain.
All she could offer was a cheerful letter. She traced her handwriting on the stationery. Her news about seeing Jim Avery would pique Quintessa’s interest, as would the mystery at the shipyard. How many hours had the girls spent huddled over Nancy Drew books in junior high, sharing good-natured arguments about who would make the better detective—Quintessa with her confidence and ability to talk to anyone, or Mary with her analytical ways and ability to listen? In reality, they worked best as a team.
Mary tapped her pen on her stationery. One more paragraph.
