“Nothing I can’t back out of. What do you have in mind?”

“Something you won’t want to miss out on. Meet me at my pop’s shop at seven. I’ll tell you then.”

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The air was brisk, the newness of fall descending on Gladys and Margaret as they stood outside of the cobbler shop.

“Darling, if this is your idea of an exciting Saturday night, I am going to pen an obituary and etch a tombstone for you right now, because you’re already dead and buried.”

Margaret grinned. “And would you have come if I told you that we were going to be knitting?”

Gladys shook her head, her curls bouncing with newly set perfection. Unlike Dottie’s natural ones—assisted by only the tiniest bit of gel—Gladys’s spirals were the result of painful nights spent in foam rollers. Her hair was fiery—something Margaret always thought was a fitting crown for her personality. Between them, they made a complete set. Dottie with her ebony locks, Gladys the redhead, and Margaret with the shiny straight hair that her grandmother used to call “spun gold.”

And these were exactly the girls with whom she wanted to grow gray someday.

How she missed the days when how you styled your hair was the worst thing you had to worry about.

Gladys shivered and pulled a flask from her purse. “Hot chocolate,” she insisted before Margaret could comment. “I’m not a total lush despite reports to the contrary.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

“Sure you weren’t. Look—I can prove it.” She pulled a small envelope from her coat pocket and opened it. Margaret could smell the rich aroma of the chocolate powder, even though she could scarcely make it out in the dim light. The blackout hour was nearly upon them and shopkeepers in the neighborhood had begun the process of shuttering their windows for the night.

“Did you get that at Rockwood?” Margaret asked, referring to the factory that sat near the Navy Yard. In the right wind, the scent of cocoa teased the workers, and more than once, Margaret had found her mouth watering as she sewed stars on a flag.

Gladys closed the lid and returned it to her pocket. “Not on your life. All of their stuff is going to the boys overseas. Getting chocolate out of them would be harder than breaking into Fort Knox. Nah, this here is from Ebinger’s.”

“Ebinger’s! Mama said she’s going to treat me to one of their Brooklyn Blackout cakes for my next birthday. Have you had one yet?”

“Sure I have. What’s the use of having a sweetheart working in a sweetshop if you don’t get a little sweetness on the side?”

“Gladys!”