Mary gripped her friend’s hand. “You’re staying in Boston?”
“I’m so excited. I haven’t been this happy in over two years.”
“Wonderful. Wonderful.” It took every grain of effort to keep selfish disappointment from marring her face. Quintessa would still be here when Jim returned.
“Do you suppose ... I hate to spring this on you, but Mr. Garrett at Filene’s said finding an apartment in Boston is near impossible with the shipyards booming. Do you suppose...?”
“You could live here?” It was difficult to swallow and smile at the same time. “My room is plenty big. We could fit another bed, another dresser, but of course I’d have to ask Yvette.”
“She loves the idea. In fact, she’s the one who suggested it. Cut the rent, you know?” She winked, cute as ever.
“This is wonderful.” Mary built it up in her mind. She’d finally have a dear friend in town to do things with, to—“Oh! Now I can show you my notebooks for the Case of the Shipyard Saboteur.”
“I can’t wait.” Quintessa clasped her hands together. “I couldn’t stand how you were having this delightful mystery adventure without me. You’ve been having all the fun this year. And with Jim Avery in town too.”
Jim Avery, who had a lifelong infatuation with Quintessa Beaumont.
Mary’s heart deflated. “He shipped out an hour ago.”
Quintessa pressed her hand over her mouth. “He did? When will he be back?”
How could she face Quintessa and talk about Jim? She went to the kitchen, since she had to make dinner anyway. She grabbed her favorite apron from the hook by the kitchen door and tied it around her waist. “I don’t know how long he’ll be gone. A month or so, I imagine.”
“Oh, bother.” Quintessa followed Mary and untied the apron from behind. “Don’t you dare make dinner. I’m taking you out. I was hoping Jim would be here too, but oh well.”
Mary studied her golden friend in her golden dress. “He’ll be happy to see you.”
“Do you think so?” Quintessa patted her throat. “Pardon me, but may I have something to drink? I’m so thirsty.”
“Would you like some iced tea?” Mary opened the refrigerator and pulled out the pitcher she’d made this morning, before Liberty Fleet Day. Before the kiss.
Pain squeezed her heart, and her hand squeezed the pitcher handle.
“Did you forget something?” Quintessa asked.
Yes, she’d forgotten how gold outshone silver. She lifted a smile. “The glasses are in the cupboard behind you.”
Quintessa spun around and pulled out two glasses, always thinking of others, and she set them on the table.
With a deep breath to steady her hand, Mary poured the iced tea. “Sugar?”
“No, thank you.”
“Come, let me show you something.” Mary led her friend back to the living room. “Sit in that chair, lean toward the bay window, and look up the street.”
Quintessa did so, brushing aside the lace curtains. “Oh, look! You can see the Bunker Hill Monument. How thrilling.”
Only minutes earlier, Mary had wanted to twirl in its shadow. Now she stood behind her best friend to conceal her face. “It’s my favorite spot.”
“To tell you the truth, Jim is one of the reasons I came to Boston.”
“Oh?”
Quintessa swirled the tea in her glass. “You said the two of you are only friends—you know I’d never interfere in a budding romance—but your letters got me to thinking. He was madly in love with me in high school, but of course I overlooked him because I had a boyfriend. But now ... if he’s turned out as well as you say he has, he sounds like a real catch. If he adored me then, he might adore me again. I thought to myself, why not?”
“Yes,” Mary choked out. “Why not?”
Quintessa turned and took her hand. “Do sit down, sweetie. I want to see your lovely face.”
