Some part of her understood that what Nora did, she did for the war effort. But the bigger part of her selfishly wanted to take Nora away from here—to ease her stress level—and to return to those fun-loving days when they danced carefree in the living room.

There was no sense talking to Nora about it—she’d tried. The response was always the same: this was her duty and she needed to see it through. Well, at least they both were scheduled to be home for dinner tonight. It would be the first time this week.

Her shift ended, and she slogged through the change room, the bus ride, and the walk home. She had no idea what time Nora would arrive, probably because Nora didn’t know either. It had been months since their last night on the town—a screening of Judy Garland’s Meet Me in St. Louis—and Mary missed their occasional outings. At least they still found time to read together several times a week.

By the time she walked through the door, Mary’s mood was as dark as the clouds overhead. She kicked off her shoes as she headed for the second bedroom, or as she and Nora called it, the place where her clothes lived. She was halfway there, when she smelled something delicious in the air.

“Are you going to walk on by, or are you at least going to say hello first?”

Nora was seated at the table with her chair facing outward. Her eyes twinkled in the candlelight. Candlelight? For the first time since she walked through the door, Mary took a good look around. The table was set with fresh flowers and a lit candle for a centerpiece. Something in the oven smelled fabulous, and Nora… Well, she looked ravishing.

Mary put her things down. “Hello.” She walked in between Nora’s knees.

“That’s better.”

“What’s all this?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“No, but in my experience, you always have one.”

“I hate that you know me so well.” Nora pulled her down for a kiss.

“Do you?”

“No, but I do hate being predictable.”

Mary indicated the scene. “I sure didn’t predict this.”

“Go wash up. Dinner’s ready.”

As she washed her face and hands and changed clothes, Mary wracked her brain. What was she missing? In the living room, she heard the strains of the new song, “Sentimental Journey,” by Les Brown and his Orchestra and a new vocalist named Doris Day.

She emerged to find Nora standing in the middle of the living room, her arms open in invitation. They danced cheek-to-cheek and Mary forgot her foul mood.

“Do you remember the first time we did this?” Mary asked.

“I was horrible at it.”

“No. You were just inexperienced.”

“Mm-hmm.”

The song ended and Nora led her to the dinner table.

“Roast? Wherever did you find a roast?”

“I’m resourceful.”

“With real gravy?”