Page 92 of The Book of Summer

“Twenty offers!” Mary yelped, grabbing at her throat.

Ruby could see it all over her face:I knew that girl was fast…

“Offers of thecareervariety,” Ruby clarified as Mary managed to look relieved and disappointed all at once.

Thank God it was Ruby who stumbled upon Hattie and Topper in the pantry. Mary likely would’ve called the fuzz. Or expired on the spot.

“What would Hattie need with a man?” Ruby said. “She’s going places. I guess that’s half the problem. Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud as peaches, but sometimes it’s hard to be the one left behind.”

Left by Hattie, and Sam, and Topper, too, as it happened. And though Ruby tried not to think about it, soon Daddy would be added to the group. He’d already outlived doctors’ estimations by a good six months.

“It can be hard to be left behind,” Mary said, once again displaying uncharacteristic human understanding. “But, rest assured, when a woman claims to be ‘going places’ it is usually in the wrong direction.”

Ruby let out a cackle. So she was the same Mary, by and by. Swell to know that not everything was thrown to the four winds.

“Oh, Mary,” Ruby said, still chuckling. “You do hold a curious place in my heart. And I think Hattie will do all right. She’ll score some primo gig at thePost,then jet-set all over the world, hobnobbing with dignitaries and irritating fascist dictators left and right. What a life!”

“Yes. But you have a life as well. Two times over.”

Mary gestured to Ruby’s stomach, and Ruby smiled in return. Yes, a baby. Her parting gift from Sam, the lug. If nothing else, she had that—motherhood. Nothing important, mind you. Only what she’d dreamt of her whole dang life.

“Fancy a smoke, Mare-bear?” Ruby asked. “Because right about now I could use a cig and some fresh air like a rat needs his cheese.”

“A rat and his cheese,” Mary said, grumbling and rising to her feet. “No one would doubt you were raised with a pack of wild brothers.”

“Nah. Mostly I was raised away at school.”

Ruby put a ciggie to her lips and bummed a light from the chap two tables over. Folger-something-or-other. He was in uniform, another body for the cause. If Hattie were there, she’d give the man a farewell look-see of her leg, raising her hemline to midthigh to tide him over. Ruby would never do such a thing. She didn’t have Hattie’s gams, for one.

“Let’s go outside,” Ruby said, taking a puff. “The night’s clear. Not a bank of fog for miles. A damned miracle.”

“I’ll join you but, Ruby, I have to say, when I was in Boston last I was talking with your father. And, well, he believes cigarette smoke is unhealthy. A carcinogen. He read it in some scientific journal. It made me quit cold turkey!”

“Don’t listen to old Dad,” Ruby said with a snort. “He also thinks they’ll discover a cure for polio.”

“Be that as it may, the smoking thing seems to have legs. Notably bad are the Turkish ones you prefer. You should at least switch to ivory-tipped.”

“My cigarettes are French.”

“Same thing.” Mary slapped at the air. “Foreign, you know. I’m only suggesting you lay off on account of the babe.”

She pointed to Ruby’s not-quite-a-belly.

“Aw, Mare,” she said. “Don’t be such a nervous Nell. Smoking is a stress reliever, everyone knows. Plus, the doctor says I can only gain fifteen pounds. How else am I supposed to keep my weight down?”

“Ruby Packard, you look fantastic. I’d never know you were pregnant if you hadn’t told me.”

“Thanks, kid. So, whaddya think?” Ruby said, the cig hanging out the side of her mouth like a Hollywood gangster’s. “Should we check out what’s happening on the harbor?”

She linked her arm through Mary’s. Mary gave a little jolt as though she’d been stung by a bee. But after thinking about it, she settled into the gesture.

“Sure,” Mary said. “The harbor.”

“All those boats,” Ruby said, leading her along. “I hear there’s a soirée on every one. With no gas and no go they might as well put the clippers to some use. At least these parties aren’t pretending to be something they’re not.”

July 10, 1942

Dear Ruby,

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