“I’m sure that’s it.” But Margaret didn’t point out the error in what Dottie said—it might be difficult for letters to find their units, but surely mail was going out regularly from the front. They were usually sent on cargo planes as equipment was transported and it was difficult to believe that if William was writing as diligently as he always did that the letters wouldn’t be making their way to her.

She feared that he wasn’t writing as much because something was wrong. But saying it out loud would make it too real, so she smiled and agreed with her friend.

Gladys returned, her face looking wan from the wear of the night, and perhaps from what she’d just heard.

“Oliver was checking in on us. I told him we’re fine. He’s heading to Long Island to look at the damage, but he’s hearing that over twenty-five hundred homes were affected. And about a thousand businesses.”

Margaret’s stomach tightened and she put her elbows on the table as she shook her head in disbelief.

“That could have been us. That could have been Brooklyn. I mean, look at Dottie’s—and we were just on the edge of it.”

She thought of their cobbler shop. The Navy Yard. Their home. How close danger had come.

“And,” Gladys added, “he confirmed that it was a hurricane. The gusts clocked in at a hundred miles an hour.”

“A hundred miles an hour!” Dottie exclaimed. “That’s faster than any train or car or airplane.”

“Indeed. Mother Nature is a mighty woman.”

“I guess our nickname for you is well-placed.” Margaret smiled. “You’re the mightiest woman I know.”

“Yes. But I use my force for good.”

“Speaking of which,” said Dottie. “I told you that I want to put our house to some use. That’s something George and I had already talked about. But now I know where to start.” She set her napkin down and pushed her chair back. “So, Gladys. Put that force of yours to work and let’s figure out a way we can help.”

Margaret could see Gladys’s mind racing through a catalog of possibilities.

“First, let’s see what we have to work with. Let’s take a look outside and get this house in order.”

The nanny breezed in as if on cue and the women walked outside to see the damage up close. Debris and driftwood were floating in the bay, and much had been washed up on Shore Drive. They walked to the left, and Gladys stopped and held her arm out.

“Oh, Dottie. Your car!”