I have seen such beauty in the city of Paris and hope that someday it will be more than a spot on your atlas. Maybe you will let me bring you here. There is a feeling of victory that I hope can soon be celebrated on our home ground as well. Take heart—the end is coming.

Just that much had taken up nearly all of the postcard. He put the pen in his mouth and considered what to do next. There was no space to tell her all he’d want to say about William, and even if there was, the news might dampen the excitement he wanted her to feel.

And she might question a postcard coming from Tom.

Next time. He would tell her next time when he had more paper to tell the story.

He penned a tiny fleur-de-lis in the corner. Almost a flower.

And finished it with:

Love, William

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

September 1944

I asked Oliver to marry me.”

Margaret turned off her welding torch and flipped her visor up.

Gladys’s rosy blouse was the same shade of her cheeks.

“It’s about time!” Margaret had to shout to be heard over the other workers. Gladys wasn’t even supposed to be in this room, as she’d been promoted to foreman of the engraving department. She’d tried to insist on the title forewoman, but it never caught on and for the moment, she had to be satisfied with the nearly unprecedented advancement for one of her gender. She had also argued that she should receive the same pay as a man, but that, too, had been dismissed.

So it was no surprise to Margaret that Gladys had asserted herself into a different traditional role, that of the one to initiate a marriage proposal.

Just as she’d predicted.

“Is that all you have to say? I thought you’d be shocked.”

“Nothing you do shocks me, Gladys. Don’t you know that? Except maybe you being in the welding room. If Mr. Drake sees you, it’s going to be hell for both of us.”

Gladys grinned. “Not so. I caught him necking with one of the girls in my department in a janitor’s closet. Now that I have something on both of them, I’ll use it as I need it.”

“You are one ruthless woman, my friend.”

“Life is a battle, Margaret. That’s my motto. And the sooner you listen, the wiser you’ll be.”

Margaret shrugged. She had a passive admiration for Gladys. Somebody had to carry the mantle for the progression of women, and there was none better suited for it than her.

“Anyway, our shifts are almost over. I’ll tell you more after that.”

“What about Dottie? She’ll want to hear about it too.”