A red tint built on Gladys’s cheeks. “Honeymooning. In the Poconos.”

“Nobody goes to the Poconos in January. Isn’t everything closed?” Margaret had never actually been, nor did she travel in circles of people who took regular vacations.

Gladys grinned. “You’re assuming we actually wanted to go anywhere.”

She waited for Margaret and Dottie to realize what she was saying and waved away their eye rolls once they’d figured it out. “We did get snowed in, though. And the little hotel we were staying at lost their phone lines. So I couldn’t have called you anyway. Sorry, ladies. But here I am now.”

Margaret stood up. It was impossible to remain frustrated with Gladys, especially in light of such joyous news. But it had been a difficult few days without her, not to mention the panic she’d felt with no word from her friend. “Well, you’re the manager here, so I guess you can do whatever you like. But I had to step in. We’ve had forty women come in this week and I could have used your help.”

Gladys sat on the end of Margaret’s desk. Her red-and-blue tweed skirt had tiny gold strands that caught the reflection of the overhead light. “You’re not cross, are you? Please don’t be. Really, we didn’t expect to be away more than one night and that was over the holiday, so the office wasn’t even open. I didn’t leave you high and dry on purpose.”

Margaret shrugged. There was no use splitting hairs over something that had already happened. And besides—Hurricane Gladys had gone and done it. She’d gotten married.

Margaret felt her resentment slip away. Gladys was okay and the Brooklyn Navy Yard had somehow continued to stand in her absence.

“Well,” Dottie conceded, standing up and drawing Gladys into a hug. “We couldn’t be happier for you. Welcome to the club of old married couples.”

“I highly recommend it, Mags,” Gladys teased. “Your turn will be next.”

Margaret turned her back to them and opened the filing cabinet. She fumbled through paperwork instead of replying, occupying herself with nothing. “Not likely,” she finally said. “Maybe that’s just not in the cards for me after all.”

With every day that passed without a letter from William, her heart grew heavier. The old adage held true here—absence makes the heart grow fonder. Every day that the mailbox did not contain word from him made her anticipate it even more.

And worry more. If she was not hearing from him, something might be wrong.

It was the only thing that kept her from acknowledging the possibility that she could be falling in love with him. There was no reason to consider a future with a man who may not live to see it.