“Anne Wallace,” Dolores said. “I know you’ve just got off a shift at the hospital and probably haven’t eaten since breakfast. You’d better have the meat loaf, with mashed potatoes and gravy and a side of green beans.” She nodded to herself, wrote it down on her tablet. Harry glanced at Anne, who had opened her mouth as though to object.

Dolores went on. “And then pie for dessert, where it belongs.” She made another note, then looked up at Harry. “And you?”

“Sounds great. I’ll have the same,” he said, folding his hands atop his notebook.

“Coffee for you both?”

They assented, and Dolores made a note, then walked away, calling, “Joe! We need two loafs with mashed and beans!”

“I’m sorry about that,” Anne said.

Harry laughed. “I didn’t mind,” he said, picking up his pencil again.

“But your wife—”

“Nothing to worry about, Miss Wallace. I’m not married.”

She glanced up with big eyes. “You’re not?”

He shook his head.

“Oh! Well, forgive me. I naturally assumed—”

“That’s all right.”

“The girls aren’t going to believe it,” she said.

“What’s that?”

She met his eyes. “Last year, when you came to the hospital those couple of times, all the girls had the awfullest crush on you, and Yvonne said she’d heard you weren’t married. But I told them you had to be, because you were the most perfect gentleman to me, and single men never are!” She laughed. “I’m afraid I dashed all their hopes.”

“Well, I’m flattered, I think.”

“I shouldn’t have told you that. That’s me—always opening my mouth when I shouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Harry said.

Dolores appeared with their coffees, setting one before each of them without comment; they thanked her.

“All right, then,” Harry said. “I just want to make sure I got this all straight. You’ve been volunteering as a Gray Lady at St. Francis since just before you graduated high school?”

She nodded.

“Which was what year?”

“1942. I was in the Junior Red Cross while I was in high school, too. I was president of our chapter my senior year. We raised over six hundred dollars.”

Harry nodded, scratching out his notes. “So, was it Bobby who inspired you to keep working for the Red Cross? Was he in the service back then?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. I didn’t even meet Bobby until I started college. He was from Superior, but he went to Central and I went to East.”

“So was he a freshman at college the same year you were?”

“No, he was a sophomore. We dated that whole school year, and then in June he left for his pilot’s training. He proposed to me just before he left. I only saw him twice more after that, but we were engaged for over two years before—” She stopped.