This morning, she had hurried through her meal planning and grocery shopping at the bungalow, planning this afternoon to start on the Mickelson kitchen. She had finally received a response from her mother to a plea for cleaning tips fired off two weeks before. I’m happy that you’re so content keeping the house, Dolly, and wanting to learn all you can, her mother had replied, along with the requested information. But some of the questions you asked made me wonder what kind of place Byron has you living in. You should not have severe problems with mold, and is the wood really in such bad condition? Well, Dolly would explain later—if things worked out with the house, anyway.

Dolly hadn’t told anyone about what she was doing with the Mickelson house, not even her best friend, Jane, back home in Battle Point. Her family and Jane all would probably just shake their heads: “Oh, that Dolly! Always coming up with some new, impossible scheme.” Her older sister Lily, if she found out that Dolly had taken her inspiration from It’s a Wonderful Life, would be sure to tell her, “This is real life, Dolly, not the movies.” Well, Lily had told her that during the war, too, every time she’d caught Dolly working on the scrapbook about Byron—“This is real life, Dolly, not the movies. You can’t just decide you’re going to marry some boy and then have it all work out.” Dolly, to show she had no hard feelings, had named Lily as a bridesmaid when the time came to plan the wedding. But this time, she didn’t want to listen to the opinions of her family. She was simply determined that her life and marriage would not be “one of countless thousands that settle into a routine, then gradually stagnate,” according to an article she’d seen in the Ladies’ Home Journal. The article had gone on to indicate that in many cases a “triangle” would develop when an “interesting third party” happened along, “because the marriage offers too little competition.”

The thought of Byron becoming interested in another woman made Dolly nauseous. Well, she already was making her best effort in the bedroom with her Hollywood starlet nightgown and at the supper table with her apron. If she could keep all of that up, plus perfect this spectacular home for him, surely he wouldn’t stray in search of excitement.

If only she could get pregnant—children would strengthen the bond between them for sure.

Well, she couldn’t think about that just now. For now, it was enough that she felt armed to tackle the dusty kitchen cabinets and cobwebbed stove, the moldy refrigerator, the filthy linoleum floor.