Unfortunately, even as he removed his shirt to reveal shoulders good enough to make a girl go slack-jawed, his only thought was of the errant au gratin potato. “Here you go, Doll,” he said, holding his shirt out to her. “Maybe you could get that cheese out, before it’s too late.”

A moment of incredulity passed, then she snatched the shirt from him and stomped to the basement.

Chapter 9

PINE RAPIDS MESSENGER
Friday evening, April 6, 1917

UNITED STATES DECLARES WAR AGAINST GERMANY
WORLD INFORMED OF ACTION AS
WILSON SIGNS DOCUMENT

WASHINGTON, APRIL 6.—War was declared at 1.13 o’clock this afternoon.

At exactly that hour President Wilson signed the joint resolution passed by the House of Representatives and by the Senate declaring a state of war between the United States and Germany.

An hour before, the resolution was signed by Vice President Marshall, at 12.13.

These were the last formalities necessary to make the United States an ally of England, France, and Russia in the world war of democracies against autocracy….

Chapter 10

TOMSOVIK’S FLOWER SHOP
209 E. First Street, Pine Rapids
Friday, April 6, 1917

When her son Chase announced, “I’ll go, too,” Wilma suddenly recalled the circus she had been to as a girl: the cacophony of calliope and shrieks; the pungent scents of popcorn, sawdust, and the steaming piles that trailed the elephants; and the sequined lady who had balanced prettily on the bare back of a black horse as it galloped round and round the ring. Across the distance under the big top, the lady’s gleaming smile was all that was discernible, but as the horse pranced toward Wilma’s place in the grandstand, the noise of its hooves growing deafening, Wilma could see the trembling of the leg on which the performer was poised, and lines of impossible strain between her eyes.

Looking at her two sons amidst the buckets of tulips and carnations, their determined eyes locked with each other’s, she suddenly knew how the woman had felt.

Steady, steady, she told herself. “What are you boys talking about?”

The matching blond heads turned toward her; their eyes were placid blue pools.

They were unfathomable, these boys, though they had been born out of her.

“Boys,” she said.

They shrank in their boots, just slightly; their eyes crinkled.

“Wait for Mr. Tomsovik to get my order ready, and then bring the flowers home.” Her heels clicked as she crossed to the door. “You may send my husband the bill, Mr. Tomsovik,” she called, not looking back, as she stepped out onto the sidewalk.