“I will. And I was actually going to ask if I could borrow your telephone to ring my mother. It’ll only take a moment.”

“Of course. You know I—”

“Nurse Denler!” Another volunteer came careening from a ward. Her mask was a bit askew, her hair escaping her kerchief in frazzled strands. “One of the men with the fever—you’d better come. He’s turning blue, and I don’t know what to do!”

Murmuring a prayer through her mask, Arabelle took off every bit as quickly as the aide. Lily nearly followed, but she had no more idea what to do than the other VAD. The man needed Arabelle, a trained nurse, not her.

She could pray, though, and she did as she slipped into the office. For wisdom for Ara and whatever doctor she’d likely call. For healing for the soldier. For calm in the ward.

The small envelope sat on the corner of the overcrowded desk, Camden scrawled hastily on the front. Lily picked it up and slipped it into her pocket, then turned toward the candlestick phone that had its own stand in the corner of the office. After drawing in a fortifying breath that did little to make her feel stronger, she asked the operator to connect her to Mayfair-1003.

“Hello?”

Her mother’s voice sounded . . . normal. Bright. Cheerful. Not the voice Lily had been hearing from her lately. Without warning, tears clogged her throat. How could she miss her so much, when they were still together every day?

“Hello?”

She cleared her throat. “Mama. It’s Lily. I had a question for you.”

A pulse of silence. “What is it?” And just like that, the sunshine had been eclipsed by clouds in her voice.

Lily’s eyes slid shut. “I need your help. This Saturday marks the day Mr. Marin should have been marrying his fiancée in Russia. I have to think he’ll be eaten up all day by guilt and sorrow.”

“Oh. The poor man. I hadn’t realized the date was so quickly upon us.” Mama sounded sincere in her sympathy. “We ought to do something kind for him.”

At least they could still agree on something. “That’s just what I’ve been thinking, and I’ve been racking my brain trying to come up with something Daddy won’t object to. Do you think he would approve an afternoon garden party? Or tea party?”

Her mother made a scoffing sound, and it sounded like hope to Lily. “Let him try and stop us. If you can create a guest list during your lunch break, I’ll call at the OB and pick it up and have the invitations out before your father even gets home this evening. Be sure and put someone important on it so he won’t want to risk offending them by canceling.”