Chapters (57)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Forty-three
- Forty-four
- Forty-five
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- POPULAR BOOKS FROM THE ERA
- When We Meet Again
- A Conversation with Caroline Beecham about When We Meet Again
- Discussion Guide
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“Now that would be telling,” he said, tapping the side of his nose.
“So, do you think you can help me?”
“Well, here’s the thing.” He laid his arm over the back of the bench as he shifted closer. “You don’t seem to me to be the kind of girl who has friends with little problems, so I’m wondering what it is you really want.”
Alice held herself steady. “I might not look like that kind of girl, but unfortunately it’s true. And . . . well, I was told you have the best contacts in London.” She looked at him with doe eyes, hoping she wasn’t overdoing it.
His mouth twitched into a half smile. “And these little problems,” he said, “when will they arrive?”
Alice swallowed. “A few are here already . . . and there will be others over the next few months. The girls don’t have much money, and they want to know how much it is to take them off their hands.”
“I don’t know.”
“But you must have some idea?”
“No, it’s not my area of expertise.”
“What is, then?”
Joe stared at her, then got up from the bench and started to limp away.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, chasing him across the playground. Did he suspect something?
He turned, lifting his hands from his sides. “Do you want to come or not?”
“Where are we going?”
“I thought your friends were in a hurry. Do you want to meet the boss, or don’t you?”
“Yes, but—” It was happening too quickly: the introduction had been too easy, and she wasn’t armed. For the first time, she felt genuinely scared. “But I can’t go right now. I wish I could, I just didn’t know it would be so soon.”
His gaze flitted over her. “Friday, then. I’ll meet you here at midday.”
Thirty-three
New York, May 5, 1943
Theo hurried the three blocks to his favorite diner on the corner of West Forty-sixth and Ninth. He needed coffee flowing through his veins before he faced Walter, particularly since it would be the first time he saw his employer—Walter had been away and was making a special trip from his New Jersey home.
Over a week had passed since Theo’s return to New York, and he was still having restless nights. He lay awake listening to the clamor of garbage trucks as he wrestled with everything that was on his mind. There were concerns about his father and George, but most of the time he was consumed with thoughts of Alice. It wasn’t just the guilt he felt at being disloyal to his employer and his fiancée, but also a deep-rooted panic at the very real prospect he would never see Alice again.