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The music cut off abruptly, replaced by the crisp click of the radio dial.

The evening news broadcast played as Frank settled into his armchair with a weary groan.

I set the table with our everyday dishes—plain white porcelain edged with a thin blue stripe.

The clinking of the plates and cutlery punctuated the droning voice of the newscaster.

Steam curled toward the ceiling as I lifted the meatloaf and casserole dishes out of the oven and set them onto trivets on the cream-colored countertop.

I stepped into the doorway to call them to dinner but paused, watching the scene unfold. Frankie toddled over to Frank, his chubby hands outstretched. “Play, Dada?” he asked hopefully, holding up a red wooden fire truck.

Frank barely looked at him. “Not now, kiddo. Daddy’s tired.” He took another swig of his bourbon and rested his head against the back of the armchair, eyes closed.

Frankie’s bottom lip quivered, but he didn’t cry. He was already learning to swallow his disappointment. My heart ached for him.

“Spill it, Babs.”

The gilt-rimmed china plate slipped from my soapy fingers, but I caught it before it crashed onto my mother’s kitchen counter. I looked up at Edith and cleared my throat. “Spill what exactly?”

She nudged me with her hip as she picked up another plate from the sink and wiped it with a blue-and-white checkered dish towel.

“You’re twenty million miles away and sighing like a schoolgirl fawning over Cary Grant.

” She shot me a knowing look. “I know you. Something’s clearly on your mind, so spill it. ”

I set my towel aside and leaned against the marble counter, my hands pressing into the cool stone. “You’re right,” I admitted with a sigh. “There is something I need to talk to you about. But not here.”

I glanced through the kitchen doorway toward the living room where Mother, Frank, my brother Bill, and his wife, Janette, sat around a square table playing bridge.

Frankie lay curled on the sofa, fast asleep.

Mother insisted the staff have Sundays off—one of her grand magnanimous gestures—but that meant Edith and I were left to manage the aftermath of family dinners ourselves.

“Can we step outside for a bit?” I asked.

Edith arched an eyebrow but nodded. She draped the damp checkered cloth over the faucet. “Lead the way.”

I wiped my hands on my apron, untied it, and hung it on the hook by the pantry. Edith followed me through the kitchen door onto the back porch.

“Are the dishes done, girls?” Mother hollered at us.

“We’ll finish them in a minute,” Edith called over her shoulder and closed the door behind us before Mother could protest. “Ugh! I’m forty, but she still treats me like a child.”

The Sunday afternoon air was crisp and mild. A cool breeze whispered through the hedges, carrying the faintest trace of salt from the distant ocean. Edith lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and sank gracefully into a wrought iron chair. She tipped her chin toward the chair opposite her.

“All right, it’s just us now. What’s going on?”

“Well…” I started as I sat down. “I’m not sure how to begin.”

Edith tapped the dead ashes off her cigarette. “Let’s start with how utterly mussed you looked when you picked up Frankie on Wednesday. I hope you cleaned up your appearance before Frank got any ideas.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “I did, but I’m not sure he would have noticed regardless.”

Edith narrowed her eyes and leaned in, her cigarette poised between two elegant fingers. “Does this have something to do with your swanky new boss? What’s his name—Victor?”

My stomach flipped at the sound of his name on her lips. I swallowed hard and nodded.

“I knew it.” Edith took another slow drag, the cigarette’s ember flaring bright orange against the fading light.

“So, what exactly happened between you two? And don’t you dare hold back on me.

You know I don’t give a fig about propriety and all that jazz.

My only concern is for you, your happiness, and your well-being. ”

I hesitated, my fingers twisting in my lap. The ghost of Victor’s touch lingered on my skin. “He wants to be with me.”

“Be with you…? As in take you to bed? Take you to the movies? Share your seat on the streetcar?”

“Edie, I’m serious.” I sighed and looked out across the lawn, the last golden rays of sun dappling the grass through the nearly bare branches of a line of oak trees.

“Victor wrote me a letter,” I said quietly.

“Had it delivered by private courier on Friday. He said…more than I ever expected. How much he adores me, how he yearns for me constantly, how he wants to take care of me and cherish me. How he feels we’re meant to be together…

” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, my gaze fixed on my lap.

“He wants…everything with me. Not just an affair. A future.” I lifted my eyes to meet Edith’s. “He says he’s in love with me.”

Edith’s eyebrows shot up. She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, I’ll be damned. That’s quite the declaration.” She tilted her head, studying me. “And how do you feel about him?”

I bit my lip, my heart fluttering like a trapped hummingbird. “I’m drawn to him in a way I’ve never experienced before. When I’m with him, I feel…alive. Seen. Understood. Desired.” I shook my head, a rueful smile tugging at my lips.

“Are you sure he’s not just looking to get you between the sheets?” She held up her hands. “Not that there’s anything wrong with a good jaunt.”

“Edie!” I hissed.

“What? You think I don’t know how to have a good time?”

I shook my head again, more firmly this time.

“It’s more than that, Edie. So much more.

The way he looks at me, talks to me, touches me…

It’s like he sees right through me. Like he knows me better than I know myself.

” I took a shaky breath. “And God help me, but I want him too. So much it frightens me.”

Edith whistled low. “Sounds like you’ve got it bad, Babs.” She leaned forward, her expression sobering. “But you know this is playing with fire, right? You’re a married woman with a child. Are things so terrible that you’d throw it all away for this Victor fellow?”

“Yes,” I answered quietly, my eyes widening at the admission.

“Heavens, I haven’t said it out loud before.

” My shoulders slumped as I sank further into my chair.

“I’m suffocating, Edie. Trapped. I’ve known it for some time, but it’s taken this to make me admit it to myself.

If the war taught us anything, it’s that life is too short to be miserable.

I have a chance at some happiness. And I’m going to take it. ”