“Here. This is from Drake and me.” Dot handed Margot a small package that contained a few decorative hairpins and grinned. “Mostly me.”

He certainly hadn’t chosen them. “Entirely Dot. She’s just too good to allow me to arrive empty-handed to the celebration, so she added my name to the tag.”

Margot lifted her eyes to him for the slenderest of seconds before focusing on the package, but it was a sliver of attention large enough to pierce.

Blast it all, he’d never get her out of his head now. The eyes, the prayers, even the poetry had all conspired against him. He was doomed. Which left him with one vital question.

What could he do about it?

“Oh, how lovely.” No particular excitement emerged with Margot’s words as she lifted the crystal-encrusted pins from their box. “Thank you, Dot.”

His sister laughed. “I know you don’t care a whit for pretty baubles. But they’ll help keep your hair out of your face without the need for the pomade you detest.”

“Oh!” Now her face brightened. “Thank you very much, then. And there are ones with metal flowers as well.” She held these up, presumably for Willa to see, since the other men seemed about as interested in them as Drake was.

But he took mental notes on Margot’s reactions. Pretty things—useless. Useful things—priceless. Mathematics over music. Logic over feelings. She was obviously a subscriber to the virtues of sarcasm, and when one could engage her there, she went from stony silence to smiles. She said she didn’t want a husband and children, but family was obviously of the utmost importance to her.

She sought solitude. But if she really wanted to be alone, she wouldn’t be so angry at God for letting her mother die that way.

He let it all tumble through his head while Dot served the cake she’d made with the sugar she’d been saving. He’d never win Margot over through conventional means. Never gain her heart if he appealed to it outright. But there had to be a way. She was no island—she was anchored to Lukas, to Willa, to Willa’s family. She’d formed a quick attachment to Dot and seemed to have taken to Red.

Drake let a bite of cake melt on his tongue. It would be easier if she were just another girl. Like Ada. But he’d never liked Ada. He had no interest in just another girl. This one, though. He apparently preferred dark eyes to ready smiles. Sarcasm to sweetness. Codebreakers to secretaries.

Codebreaker. He straightened a bit in his chair, barely even wanting to wince. She must be a talented one indeed, for DID to have hired her to the position contrary to convention. Obviously she loved it. That was the life she wanted to pursue, even after this madness of war was over. Numbers and equations and puzzles.