Dottie smiled, bigger this time. “We’ve been friends for more than half of my life. You know I come by these honestly.”

“Honestly with a little help from pomade.” But all joking aside, this was serious news. Margaret drew Dottie into a hug and could feel both of their heartbeats racing. Dottie’s slender frame was rigid at first, but at last she rested her head on Margaret’s shoulder, heaving staccato breaths as tears surfaced.

Margaret pulled away after some time and handed Dottie a handkerchief. She led her to the kitchen table and set a newly washed cushion on the wooden chair. Then she joined her on the other side. The tension of the situation was enough to steal the air they breathed.

“What are we going to do about it?” she whispered.

Dottie raised the handkerchief to her nose, reddened, perhaps, by the chill in the air. But more than likely, she’d shed some tears before even coming here. “What do you mean, we? This is my problem.”

“Dottie.” Margaret lifted her friend’s chin up with her hand and mustered a firm look that she hoped was more convincing than she felt inside. “This is our problem. And let’s not even call it a problem. That’s my little niece or nephew in there. Do you realize that? That’s John’s child! John’s going to come home and he’s going to marry you because he loves you and has loved you for as long as I can remember.”

“But my parents…”

“…are not going to find out until we figure out a plan.”

Dottie ran her hand along her waistband. “We’d better figure out something soon. I don’t know how long it will be before it will be obvious to everyone.”

“How far along are you? John left for basic training six weeks ago.”

Dottie nodded. “That long.”

Margaret bit her lip as she was thinking. Maybe Dottie could come live here and stay in John’s bedroom. She was sure her parents would rather do that than see Dottie turned out. Although, if word spread that they were harboring an unwed woman who’d gotten herself into trouble, people might take their business elsewhere and their shoe shop might suffer more than it already was.

But then—a solution. Or at least the fledgling hope of one.

“I know what we’ll do,” she said. “We’ll talk to Gladys.”

*  *  *