When Rosalie was gone, Nora flopped back on the bed. ID badges, Cemestos, Flat Tops… She felt like Alice falling through the looking glass.

Outside the door, she heard girls chattering away. From the snippets of conversation, it sounded like they were going dancing on a tennis court after dinner. Dancing on a tennis court?

Nora’s stomach rumbled, reminding her that it had been too long since she last ate. There was no icebox, stove, or anything resembling a kitchen. Where was she supposed to eat?

“Hey, Nora? It’s Rosalie,” her neighbor called through the closed door. “I forgot to tell you, there’s a cafeteria not far from here. That’s where we mostly eat. If you want, you can join me and some of the girls for dinner.”

Nora opened the door. “I’d like that.”

“Okay. Let’s go. You can unpack later.”

As if on cue, doors opened along the hallway and girls piled out and down the stairs. As much as Nora wanted to disappear into her own space and write in her journal, she knew she needed sustenance. Besides, the more she could learn about this place by listening, the better. She checked her hair in the little mirror over the dresser, grabbed her purse, and followed the crowd.

May – October, 1943

CHAPTER SEVEN

Meyer’s Drugstore was hopping. Every stool at the ice cream counter was taken, and the line at the pharmacist’s station snaked around aisle three. Mary wiped the perspiration from her forehead with a handkerchief. She wished she could stick her head in the ice cream freezer. The air in the store was stagnant. Just like my life.

She surveyed the crowd. Of the ten people waiting for prescriptions, she knew eight of them. That was the thing about a neighborhood drugstore—everyone knew everyone. And everyone knows everyone else’s business.

She recognized that she was in a foul mood. The truth was, she’d been in the same lousy frame of mind ever since graduation night.

“Can we get some service around here?”

“This line is moving slower than molasses.”

“By the time I get my prescription filled, I could be dead.”

Mary let the comments roll past her. It wouldn’t do to answer these folks, although she would’ve loved to give them all a piece of her mind. She worked through the line, despite the fact that she should’ve been on lunch break.

Twenty minutes later, she’d waited on the last customer. “I’m going on lunch break, Doc.”

“Okay. When you get back, we’ve got some more orders to place. We’re running out of bicarbonate and phosphorus.”

Mary stowed her lab coat and grabbed the lunch bag out of her locker. The old oak tree in the park across the street beckoned to her, as it did every day.

“Oh, I’m sor—”

“Hello, Mary.”

“Phyllis! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to run into you.”