Margaret felt her heart thawing. “And you were the one who cautioned me against William. Why the change of heart? Has marriage softened you? Dottie, has our Gladys become a big old teddy bear?”

“Stop it! I haven’t gone soft. But this is what I see. I see that it’s not the name that matters. From what I can tell, William’s contribution was introductory, at best. You don’t know him personally. So what does the name even mean to you? William. Tom. Bugs Bunny. That is not the important part. It was Tom’s words that put that smile on your face. Tom is the one who bled his feelings onto paper. Tom is the one you actually wrote to.”

Her voice lowered. “He’s the one asking for your forgiveness. Which is not an easy thing to do. I should know. It’s never been my strong suit.”

Margaret looked at her friend. The one who always told it like it was. Maybe she had, indeed, missed the whole point.

“Ladies, I have some breakfast for you.” The cook peeked her head into the living room and once again Margaret marveled that Dottie’s help had impeccable timing and discretion. There was nothing like breaking bread to even the playing field between warring factions.

Dottie led them into the dining room and she pulled back the curtains to reveal the light that was beaming into the space. It refracted on the bevels, casting rainbow spectrums onto every surface. Margaret smiled at the beauty of it. And even felt reassured. However this turned out, there were some things you could always count on. Sunlight. Rainbows. Friendship.

As the cook set a plate of toast and sausages on the table, George sauntered in wearing slacks and a perfectly tailored burgundy sweater that looked like one of Dottie’s creations.

“Good morning, ladies,” he said. Seemingly unsurprised by their presence.

“May I?” Dottie asked Margaret, and Margaret nodded. She didn’t even need to finish that question to know what her dearest and oldest friend meant.

As they ate, Dottie filled George in on the news of the morning, and Gladys handed him the letters, which she had not yet let go of.

“Darling,” he said to his wife when he’d been fully apprised of the details. “I never like to disagree with you, but I have to say, I’m siding with Gladys on this.”

Margaret watched Dottie’s expression, and her initial indignation—already disappearing—seemed to melt away in her husband’s presence.

“How do you mean?” she asked.

“Well,” he said, pushing his chair back. He looked at Margaret, remembering that this conversation was really about her in the first place. “All I can say is that I know what it’s like to be a man in love. And to have to hold that love in until it is best for all parties to know.”