A smile spread across her face. Even though she couldn’t see herself, she knew it was the crooked one she saved for what made her the happiest. But this was so much better than Coney Island or Cary Grant.

She stood up and leaned forward, over her desk. She was grateful for it. Her legs felt as solid as an ambrosia salad and if she didn’t have the stability of the desk, she might collapse.

He raised his right hand and stroked the side of her cheek and she let the tears fall.

Relief. Joy. Love.

“Margaret,” he breathed.

“Tom?”

He nodded as she whispered.

“You’re here.”

*  *  *

The door swung open and Gladys walked in. The desk still stood between Margaret and Tom, but they’d been too impatient to move around it. Tom had wrapped his arms around her shoulders and she felt his deep, soulful kiss all the way down to her toes. Margaret—not pulling away from him—waved Gladys away. But she should have known it was an impossibility.

“It’s all arranged, doll!”

Tom turned around and put his hand out.

“Tom Powell.”

“Gladys Sievers.”

Of course, she’d insisted that Oliver keep his name and she keep hers.

“Nice to meet you, Gladys.”

“If you hurt her, I’ll put a bullet in you since the Germans missed.”

“Gladys!”

“Margaret, if he’s going to become a part of our little enclave, he’d better get to know me as I am right now.”

“She’s kidding,” Margaret assured him.

Gladys folded her arms. “I’m not.”

Tom turned back to Margaret. “I’m glad you have such fierce friends. But I promise, Gladys,” he said over his shoulder. “You can keep your gun holstered. You won’t need it.”

Gladys grinned and threw her arms around him. “Welcome to the family.”

She handed Margaret a box. “Dottie pulled this together for you. Your best dress, some stockings, and some shoes. I’m on hair and makeup duty. And, Tom, there are some things here for you too. Those clothes Margaret’s dad lent you are all wrong, so Dottie guessed your size and bought something else.”

“Those are my dad’s clothes? I thought they looked strangely familiar.”

Tom looked down and grinned. “Yeah. Your mom found something he hadn’t worn for a while. They don’t quite fit.”

Gladys rubbed her hand down his arm and grinned. “You can say that again. The army put some muscles on you.”

“Why the clothes?” asked Margaret.

“Why, you’re going out on the town, doll. You and Tom. You’re going out for a nice steak dinner at Delmonico’s, courtesy of George and Dottie. And if you want to stay in the city…”

“Gladys!”

“I’m just saying. You have a lot of catching up to do.”