The wonderful thing about Saturday, Alex Ghirardeli thought, is that you don't have to get out of bed until you're damn good and ready. The sad thing was, after twenty-eight years of getting up at 04:00 to start breakfast for hungry sailors, Lex was damn good and ready. He'd already slept in two hours later than usual.
Lex slipped from the covers, knowing that no matter how careful he was, the motion would wake DeeDee. She was a light sleeper—always had been. He watched her cat-like stretch as he walked to the head… the bathroom. Have to start thinking in Civilian terms again.
After he relieved his bladder, Lex decided to take a hot shower. A long, hot shower. Submarine showers is one thing I won't miss for a while. He adjusted the temperature and stood under the nozzle, letting the heat open his pores.
He heard the shower curtain drawn and smiled. After a few seconds, he felt a washcloth on his back. "Need your back scrubbed, sailor?" DeeDee asked.
"Okay," he replied, "but you'll have to hurry. My wife might come in any minute. She's a light sleeper."
DeeDee laughed, just as she always did. It was a familiar routine, one of the many that had survived twenty years of marriage. If her laugh was shorter, or less loud than in years past, it was so in honor of the memory of their other wives and husbands who'd shared the routines.
Lex turned around to rinse his back and begin soaping DeeDee's. She had her hair pinned up to keep it dry, and he lovingly scrubbed her back, just as she had his. When he made room for her to rinse, she did so, then turned with another cloth so they could wash each other.
Maybe they both sagged a bit, showing their ages, but DeeDee still looked damn good to Lex. As good a time as any, he thought, gently laving her breasts. "Dee, darlin', I've been thinking." He paused for the inevitable comeback.
"Shall I turn down the water temperature so you can cool your head?" Inevitable.
"Might not hurt, at that," Lex said. Routine. "Is that how you do it?" They smiled at each other. "Anyway, I think it's time we…."
"Please don't finish that thought." DeeDee's face had lost the smile.
Lex gathered her into his arms. It was awkward, turning off the shower without letting go, but he managed. Then he held her as she began to sob into his wet chest. He knew her tears were mixing with the wetness. "Okay, baby, not now. But soon."
Tragedy can strike anyone, anytime, anywhere. God knows we've seen enough for one lifetime. No one should have to bury two wives and two husbands. But if they must, they shouldn't have to bury them alone, or be alone afterwards. Lex did not intend to leave DeeDee alone. We're plenty young enough to marry again. It's time she faced that.
When she seemed calm enough, he hugged her one more time. Then they resumed the routine, as though nothing had happened. Dried. Dressed. DeeDee made the bed while Lex went to the kitchen.
She'll come around, he thought, while starting yet another breakfast. He snorted to himself. Don't know why I think she will, she hasn't so far. But she's got to. If we start living like some old couple or triple, waiting to die, we will. And we'll waste twenty or thirty of what's supposed to be our "Golden Years."
He had a thought. I'll take her out tonight. Chiefs' Club, or maybe the Mariner. Dancing after, she always liked that. Maybe we'll meet someone she takes a fancy to.
Hell, I know what'd put her in the mood. I wish I could tell her about the Skipper and his finance… feasance… "Fee on says," he finished aloud.
"Whose fiancées?" DeeDee asked, entering the kitchen.
Lex groaned. "I don't think I can tell you." …unless I want all of Norfolk to know about it. Telephone, telegraph, tell a Chief's wife, the three fastest ways to spread a message.
"There you go, thinking again. I thought that smell was bacon frying."
"Well, I can't tell you. The Captain swore me to…"
"The Captain proposed to Nancy and Debby Harboard and they accepted? That's wonderful!"
"…secrecy," he finished, mouth remaining open. "How in the hell did you figure that?"
"Obvious! fiancées, Captain swore, and everyone knows about the date with the Harboards. Who else would it be? Oh, I gotta call Milly, she'll love this." And she was gone.
"Telephone, telegraph, tell a wife." I am so screwed when the Skipper finds out.
He turned back to the bacon.
Well, that was painless enough, Bob thought, as he relaxed in his cousin’s staff car. James had thoughtfully made both car and driver available for Bob’s trip to the War Department. The interview with the Commander of Submarine Forces (Atlantic) and Fleet Commander, Virginia, was more social call than anything else. Just another tradition, in a tradition-bound service.
The morning traffic hadn't been nearly as bad as Bob had expected—it was, after all, Saturday—and the return traffic was even less so. So the debriefing over coffee and coffeecake was anticlimactic. A Captain of a decommissioned ship normally received his or her new orders at these debriefings, whether a new ship or some other assignment. Bob had been relieved to hear that he would resume the helm of CSS Robert E. Lee when she was recommissioned following overhaul.
I didn't really expect anything different. Why was it such a relief to hear it confirmed? Am I that insecure? Bob knew he wasn't, but… there were always possibilities. If they'd offered something newer, he pictured the Ballistic Missile submarine under construction at Pascagoula, would I have turned it down? Officers who turn down promotions or opportunities generally aren't 'bothered' with any more of either.
He frowned. Would the idea of such an offer have bothered me at all, if I hadn't just begun courting Nancy and Deborah? Never mind my Exec's commitment to her career—what about mine? The unwritten rule was always, "Junior Officers should not marry—senior officers must." It's never applied to female officers, either way—how fair is that—and the boundary between "junior" and "senior" was extremely flexible. Bob was certain that his position as a ship's captain was on the senior side of that line.
Bob gazed out the car's window, but his eyes focused on none of the landscape or buildings that rushed by. How much did that unwritten rule influence my decision to court the Harboards? He thought back to the day Deborah reported aboard, all starched and crisp… and smiled. He'd liked "the cut of her jib" even then. And at the Submarine Ball, Nancy seemed so shy, so fragile—and Deborah so fiercely protective, without being assertive. He'd danced with both, and with all his officers or their spouses, as custom demanded. But I enjoyed Deborah—and Nancy—in my arms more than any of the others.
No, he reassured himself, I didn't start thinking about any silly unwritten rules until after I'd made the decision to ask them out. Just the head trying to provide justification for what the heart had already decided. And nothing in our two dates has changed the heart's decision. If anything, the attraction is stronger. Now if I can just keep my too-clever head from screwing up what the heart needs…
The diorama beyond the windows slowed and stopped. Bob was startled to realize that they were once again at Lee House. He profusely thanked the General's driver and proceeded into the house.
Pricilla and Connie were waiting for him in the family room. From the set of their jaws, they were ready to resume castigating him for the clumsy way in which he'd handled the courtship so far. Well, enough s enough. It's my courtship, and clumsy or inept or not, it's my affair to run or ruin. So, let's set that record straight.
"Bob, we think you need to…"
"Good morning, ladies. Prissy, are you still beating that dead horse, or are you prepared to offer constructive criticism of my love life?"
Pricilla's eyes darkened and her brows knit. Her face began to color ominously. Constance, on the other hand, took a step back, her eyes widening. A hand darted to her lips, and she appeared to be stifling herself. She looked at the back of Pricilla's head, darting glances at Bob. Pricilla began to inflate, preparatory to an explosion.
Get there firstest with the mostest. "Stop looking at me in that tone of voice, Prissy. If you don't like the nickname, don't act the part. Constructive criticism or silence. I've taken enough of the other.
If Pricilla had inflated before, now she positively swelled, her face a beet red…
…and then she let it all out, in one prolonged "Bronx cheer." Her shoulders didn't quite slump, but they were no longer pulled back. Her color returned to normal. She cocked her head to one side, and looked Bob in the eyes.
"Rings."
"Rings?"
Pricilla nodded. "Engagement rings. If you're determined to aggressively pursue them, get the rings on your way home and carry them on you all the time. Be prepared to whip them out on a moment's notice."
Connie joined in. "Take a cab to this dinner tomorrow. Don't make it easy to get rid of you. Dismiss the cab immediately when you arrive."
"Don't push. Just be your sweet, boyish," Pricilla cocked her head the other way, "bedeviling, annoyingly charming self."
Bob laughed, and hugged his cousin's wives.
Pricilla said, "Just two more constructive criticisms, and I'm done criticizing for the rest of your visit."
Bob smiled wider. "Go ahead. What's the first?"
She nodded. "Whatever you're planning on spending on those engagement rings? Double it. At least."
Bob laughed again. "To make up for my 'annoying' charm? Fine. What's the second item?"
Pricilla swelled again, slightly, and in deadly earnest said, "Don't call me 'Prissy'."
Winnie Tanner-Bloom ran a tight ship. As senior wife to a pair of Chiefs-of-the-Boats, she had to. A COB's spouse is as close to an official position as any unofficial position can get. The spouse of the COB is at once a counselor, a confidant, a confessor, a crying post… the list goes on.
That list includes "town crier." If the ship had news, it was up to the COB's spouse to activate the phone tree and get it out there to everyone who had a need to know. So, as she set the telephone in its cradle, she wondered why she wasn't one of the first to know what she had just learned coming up the phone tree. But she knew who to ask.
"Lucas Tanner!"
"Ma'am?" The gruff, no-nonsense macho Chief-of-the-whole-damn-boat-and-don't-you-forget-it COB of the Robert E. Lee scrambled out of his recliner and left behind the sports page to stand in the door of Winnie's den.
Winnie cut straight to the chase. "What's going on between The Captain and Lieutenant Harboard and her wife?"
Luke swallowed. "Officially, I don't know. The Captain hasn't said anything to me, nor has the Lieutenant." He swallowed again. "I heard they had dinner together last night. Mrs. Harboard stayed aboard with the Lieutenant and was present at Change o' Command. That's all I know." He wanted to swallow again, but his mouth was suddenly dry.
"According to Georgia Carter, she heard from… well, never mind the chain, but it leads to a 'reliable source'—that The Captain proposed and the Harboards accepted. Now, I need to be able to confirm or deny. Get me proof one way or the other." Winnie went back to preparing the Spouses' Club Newsletter, trying to decide whether an announcement should be on the front or in the personal news section.
Luke had his marching orders. The simplest way to verify the story would be simply to ask the Captain. He even knew approximately where the Captain might be. But no way was he calling COMNAVSUBFOR(Atlantic), or even his office, to ask about a personal matter—not even for Winnie "Ironfist" Tanner-Bloom.
The next simplest was to ask the Lieutenant, if he could figure out a delicate way to phrase the question. He dug into his own phone list and looked them up. He reached for the phone.
Nancy and Deborah looked at what may well have been the entire contents of their walk-in closet, laid out on their bed, across their dressers, and on the backs of chairs. Then they looked at each other. "Road trip," they both said, and laughed.
Choosing clothes to shop in was a matter of grabbing slacks and a blouse, and in moments, both women were heading out the front door, purses in hand. Nancy had the keys; Deborah paused to lock and shut the door behind them.
As they pulled out of the driveway, their phone began to ring.
Luke set the phone down, mildly annoyed. Neither the Captain nor the Lieutenant are available for comment, not that I know exactly what to ask. "Good evening Lieutenant, sorry for calling you at home, but did you and your wife get engaged to the Skipper last night, and was it supposed to be a secret?" Oh yeah, that's a great way to start. So now what do I do?
He broke out the muster sheet he'd used the day before to ensure that the duty section was mustered off the ship. The Captain's steward… he cross-checked his leave and school schedule… on leave, home to Sonora. A General Delivery address and phone for contact. No help there.
Then there were the Wardroom pantry cook and Senior Chief Mess Specialist Ghirardeli, both on board last night. Luke's face broke into a grin considering Winnie's "reliable source." But he decided to call the pantry cook first. The phone rang twice before someone picked it up.
"Good morning, Mrs. Pufta. This is Master Chief Tanner, the Chief of the Boat. I'm trying to reach Stamos, is he in today?"
"Yes, ma'am, I'll hold."
"Oh, no ma'am, there's no emergency. He won't be called in, I just need some information…"
"Thank you, Alicia, and you can call me Luke. Stamos has to call me 'COB', but you don't."
Luke found himself laughing. "Alicia, I've heard the very same rumor. That's the reason I called, in fact."
"Yes, I'd have to agree it would be a good thing, if it turns out to be …"
"Oh, he won't? Well, we'll see about…"
"Thank you, Alicia."
"Good morning to you, too…"
"So you know why I call…"
"Wait, I haven't asked you to confirm or deny any…"
"Yes, I understand oaths…"
"No, I…"
"No, I…"
"But, I…"
Enough is enough. "Petty Officer Pufta, shut up and let me explain why I'm on this phone. No. Shut up and listen." Luke took a deep breath and waited for silence on the line. "There is a rumor making the circuit—rapidly—that the Captain asked Lieutenant and Mrs. Harboard to marry him, and that they accepted. Shut up, I'm not done." Another deep breath.
"Sta, listen very carefully. If the rumor is true, but the Captain and the Mrss. Harboard do not want it public—yet—then the word must be put out to keep quiet, because those are their wishes. If he asked and they are thinking about it, a call for discretion is even more important, lest we screw it up for either side. If he asked and they said no, discretion is even more important, or a lot of people are going to be very embarrassed.
"The fourth case is that he never asked, in which case not only must the rumor be squelched, but I need to track down the rumor monger for counseling. All four cases require investigation. So, now I'm going to ask you just one question… no, wait for the question, damn it!"
Luke wondered how to phrase the question. He only had one shot, and he didn't want to waste it. Okay, here goes. "If my wife passes word on the phone tree that the Captain and the Mrss. Harboard do not want their relationship discussed until they discuss it publicly, will she be correct?"
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone while Sta Pufta reviewed the details of his promise.
"…nor deny that information. Yes, I understand. I don't have any other questions, Sta. Enjoy your weekend, and when it comes time, I'll personally inform the Skipper that you never broke your promise not to tell anyone about his engagement."
Luke smiled slyly at the response. "You're very welcome, Sta—it's the least I can do." After a few more pleasantries, he hung up.
Way to go, you crafty old bastard. The kid doesn't even realize his thanks gave away the whole show. He paused. Or maybe he does, and he just needed a discreet way to let it slip, without actually letting it slip. Either way, I've got confirmation. Now I just need to deal with the discretion issue. This phone number he knew from memory. No need to reach for the lists. But first he'd better give Winnie the poop.
Willard Schotz finished speed-reading the resume in his hands and turned his attention to the young woman who had brought it with her. He next asked for her portfolio, and thanked her for having it available on such short notice. "When Jason told me this morning that you'd agree to an interview, I couldn't wait to get you in here. Based on his recommendation and the photos I've already seen, I'm prepared to offer you a position."
Donna hesitated. "You understand that I'm not available full time until August first? My enlistment doesn't expire until then."
Willard nodded, thumbing through her portfolio. If anything, the photos there were even more impressive than what he'd seen before. "Since my previous photographer moved to Albuquerque last summer, I've been making do with interns from the art college at William and Mary's Norfolk campus. Some of them are very talented, but most want to be 'news' photographers, or photo-journalists, or the like. They seem to think of the Society Section as practice—or purgatory."
He leaned back. "How do you feel about photographing for the Society pages? Please be candid."
"Truthfully, I just love to take pictures." They both laughed. "I'm a city girl. I can appreciate photos taken in a war zone, or by someone accompanying a trek through the wilds; I can admire the artistry of a given shot; but I've no wish to put up with the bugs or lack of toilet paper it took to get them." They both laughed again.
"All my other applications—for photo work, I mean—have been with portrait studios. I like working with people. Does that answer sufficiently?"
Willard smiled. He'd seen enough. "As I said, I'm prepared to offer you a position. Are you prepared to negotiate a salary, or am I wasting our time?"
"With the understanding that the Navy has first claim on my time…."
Willard waved that off. "Not a problem. We want to claim your free time—we'll work around military duty until your enlistment is up. If what Jase told me is correct, you're too 'short' to deploy with your current command, and you'll finish your hitch on temporary duty at the Naval Station here."
Donna nodded. "With that stipulation, then, yes. I'm prepared to discuss salary."
"Good. What would you say to…" he named a monthly figure, midrange on the scale he was authorized to offer.
Donna's brows knit.
Shit, he thought. I don't want to lose her. "…to start, of course. During the three month transition from Naval service to our service. After three months probation, I can offer…" he named a figure three quarters up the scale.
Donna's lips pursed.
"…with full dental and medical insurance, of course, and the usual stock options and retirement plan."
Donna's hand shot across the desk. "Deal. Where do I sign?"
Willard took her hand and shook it. He didn't learn until much, much later that in researching salaries for his negotiating position, he wasn't dealing with the equivalent of a Public Affairs Officer with less than six years of service, but a petty officer second class. Donna had been ready to leap across the desk and kiss him after the first offer—she thought she'd heard wrong.
By the time he learned his error, she'd been Chief Photographer for a year, and he consoled himself that it had still been a bargain.
While they were filling out forms in personnel, she remembered to thank him for getting the Captain's engagement announcement into tomorrow's paper.
"Hello?"
"Caroline? Hi, it's Winnie…"
"I'm not Caroline, I'm Samantha. Hold on a second and I'll get her."
"Wait—if it wouldn't be too much trouble, Commander, could you stay on an extension? This concerns you, too."
"Certainly. Just a moment… Okay, she'll join us in a few seconds. Winnie? Winifred Tanner-Bloom, the COB's wife, right?"
"Yes ma'am. Please call me Winnie. Everyone does."
"I will if you'll call me Sam."
"Thank you, Sam. I'll do that."
"Hi, Winnie. What's up?"
"Hi Caroline. I don't know if it's reached the officer's wives yet, but there's a rumor going around about the Captain and Lieutenant and Nancy Harboard…"
"I haven't heard anything except from Sam. Sam?"
"They dated once before the last deployment. We saw them together after Change of Command, leaving the ship. What does the rumor say?"
"First, the facts. The Captain invited Nancy Harboard to dinner with Deborah and himself. He gave them the use of his stateroom—Nancy stayed aboard last night, with Deborah. The Captain slept in his sea cabin."
"Date number two." "Interesting. Go on."
"The rumor—and it's all but verified—is that Captain Lee proposed to them…
"Oh, my!" "Jesus!"
"…and they accepted."
"Sam, stop laughing. Winnie, why do you say 'all but verified'?"
"I'm sorry, but it's funny. You make a pass at him…
"Sam!"
"…and later that night he proposes to someone else. That's so funny!"
"Winnie, that's for your ears only. Sam, it's not that funny."
"Yes it is. We never stood a chance."
"So I put a bug in his ear. Got him at least thinking about marriage. Nancy and Deb can thank me later. Winnie?"
"Sam's right, it is funny."
"Winnie! Who's side are you on?"
"Do I have to take sides? Anyway, neither the Captain nor the Harboards have been available for comment. So I had Luke—COB—check for witnesses."
"And?"
"His steward's on leave and hard to reach, but the wardroom cook and Chief Ghirardeli are both pleading the fifth. 'I can neither confirm nor deny' and 'don't ask me, I made a promise to the Captain not to say anything.' But DeeDee Ghirardeli says her husband mumbled about 'fiancés' and then started that 'promise' speech when she asked what he was talking about."
"So she started the rumor?"
"Right. She put one and one together and leapt straight to ten. Digital logic."
"Digital logic?"
"In binary, one plus one equals one-zero. It equals two, but it's written like a ten."
"Oh." "I'll explain it later, Caroline. Go on, Winnie."
"What it boils down to, is the Captain apparently asked, and they accepted, but they don't want it known right away. I'm guessing they plan a formal announcement, or…
"Or?"
"Or they're planning to sneak off and get married without telling anyone—until they get back."
"Sam? You know his schedule, right?"
"Right, Caroline. Let me think… Okay. Of course, if they want, they can spend thirty minutes getting the license and taking the vows with any justice of the peace. No waiting period or blood tests in Virginia. But if they want a honeymoon, It has to be in the next two or three weeks. He's booked for witnessing acceptance tests and trials after that.
"Winnie, what have you done so far?"
"So far, I activated the enlisted call tree. I told everyone that yes, he asked. Yes, they said yes. But they want it a secret, so don't let on and act surprised when the time comes. I figure you'll handle the officers' spouses, Caroline."
"Yep, and I'll tell them the same thing."
"I'm also taking up a collection for a wedding present from the crew."
"Good plan. I'll see if I can organize a secret wedding shower from the wardroom on short notice."
"I'll help."
"What if they elope?"
"Winnie, we'll cross that bridge if we come to it."
"Good enough."
"Thanks for calling, Winnie. Talk to you again soon."
"You too. Bye."
"Bye." "Bye."
I said I was sorry. Why does he have to be so pigheaded about it? DeeDee asked herself for the tenth or eleventh time. So I'm good at puzzles. So I like to gossip a little. That just makes this silent treatment so much worse!
I said I was sorry!
Serve him right if I went out and found another husband or wife to talk to when he gets like this. She stopped meandering from shelf to end table, clutching her dust rag suddenly tighter. He tried to suggest that very thing, this morning, and I shut him out. Maybe I should have listened. She went to the kitchen, poured herself an iced tea, and sat at the table.
I'm only forty-five. How did I get to be such a gossipy old woman? I wasn't like this when Frank and Alice were alive. Well, maybe a bit, but only in the family. I didn't need to call everyone I know to prove… to prove… DeeDee started sobbing. I'm not dead. God took Frank and Charlie, Alice and Loretta, but not me and Alex. We still have each other.
Oh, God, I need Alex so much right now and I fucked up and got him in trouble and now he won't even speak to me and it's all my fault and... DeeDee began openly weeping.
And then she felt Alex's arms coming around her. She turned into him and bawled, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over, even when she could feel his hand stroking her hair while the other hugged her close.
It was a struggle, but DeeDee managed to control her breathing. "I really am sorry, Alex. Are you going to be in very much trouble?" She sniffled into her dust rag, grimaced, and set it aside.
Alex turned her face up with a hand under her chin. Alex shook his head while keeping eye contact. "I don't think it'll be very much trouble."
DeeDee tried to grin. She wasn't sure she pulled it off. "There you go, thinking again."
Alex's grin was real. "I know. I can hear the rusty gears in my own head, squealing. Maybe we ought to go out tonight and get 'em really lubricated."
DeeDee shook her own head. "Maybe we ought to call out for delivery and just talk together, tonight. I think you were right this morning. It's time."
"There you go thinking. Let's follow the Skipper's example - less thinking, more action."
"Think you're up to it, old man?"
"Think you can handle it, old woman?"
"Enough thinking. More action."
"I still can't believe it—my baby brother, a spaceman."
"Well, let's not put the cart before the horse, Caroline," John replied, laughing. "I'll be training for the Mars landing along with about a hundred other people, but most of us will end up being ground support."
"Nonsense," Nat put in. "I've been watching you ever since Caroline and I first met. You're one of those people. The type that lead the charge, win the battle, get the job done."
"Thank you, Nat."
"It's not a compliment, just an observation."
"Nat, from you that makes it an even bigger compliment."
Nat shrugged, smiling. "I just call it the way I see it."
"He's right," Samantha interjected. "And you're cute, besides." They all laughed.
"So. Since May seems to be the month for romance," Caroline said, "have you got any news for us on that front?"
"Romance? John scoffed. "Me? Not hardly! What makes May so special, anyway?"
"Have you met Samantha's Commanding Officer?" Caroline asked.
"Certainly. At the Submarine Ball, remember? You ladies drug me along for a fourth." He remembered the ball very well. He'd danced with Samantha, whom he liked very much, as well as his sister.
"Right. Well, do you remember a brand-spanking new Lieutenant Lower Grade named Deborah Harboard and her wife, Nancy?"
John thought for a few seconds. "Yes, actually, I do. I remember her because she reminded me of you, Caroline."
"Reminded you of me? Caroline was startled. "In what way?"
"Poised. Confident. Very protective of her wife. Recently divorced, if memory serves, but determined to deal with it." He thought a little more. "Oh, and gorgeous. See? just like Caroline—except for the divorce, of course."
Caroline blushed. "Oh, you!"
"Can I take it that Sam's Commanding Officer also noted these qualities, and acted on them?"
"You may," said Sam.
"Damn. There goes the closest thing I've found to my big sister. Maybe they'd like another husband in the Marines?"
Everyone laughed. "I'll make sure you get another introduction," Caroline promised. "After the wedding."
Once again in the lady's room, Jean and Brenda were hugging, tightly. When they finally separated, Jean was the first to speak.
"Oh God, sis, you were so right!"
"I'd say I told you so, but this is a shock, even for me!"
"I know! Three nights, three dates, and now they want to go steady? Nobody on the face of the earth moves this fast. At this rate, we'd be married in a month."
"But how do you feel about it?"
"If you hadn't grabbed my hand and told 'em we needed a minute alone, I was all set to accept."
Brenda grinned, hugely. "I know that. That's why I grabbed."
Jean looked puzzled for a moment. "Don't you want to accept? All you've talked about all weekend was how well-suited we are to each other, the four of us. I've agreed with every word. You were right about Jaimie — Jaime — and there's so much more to Boo than just his charming smile."
Brenda couldn't help it. "Told you so." They giggled together. "But before we go back out there with our panties dripping and scream 'Yes!', you need to think about this; if we do that, there'll be no more 'Ask Brenda' when a guy hits on us… you. The boys are asking for exclusivity."
Jean dismissed it. "That won't be a problem."
"No?" Brenda asked. "Suppose, oh," she recalled someone Jean had drooled over, "Bradley O'Mara asks you for a date. What will you say to him?"
"I'll say, 'Ask our boyfriends.' How's that?"
Brenda laughed out loud. "Good answer." She was very happy to see that Jean understood what the boys wanted. Happier still that Jean wanted what she wanted herself. "Let's go let the boys know we reluctantly accept, despite the sacrifice to our busy social lives it entails."
"Good answer."
"I'm pooped."
Deborah silently agreed with her wife. Shopping could be exhausting—if you did it right. They were just finishing rearranging the closet, the new summer dresses on the back of the door for tomorrow.
She glanced at the packages on the bed. Finding just the right combination of demure and provocative in a summer dress had only occupied a couple of hours. The contents of those bags — well, Lady Victoria had many secrets, and the Harboards had been let in on a few. Quite a few, as a matter of fact.
It's not like Bob will get to see any of those things any time soon, she thought to herself. If ever, she added, but the thought lacked sincerity even in her mind. She looked at Nancy, stripping her shopping clothes directly into a wash basket. We never play "dress-up" for each other, either. So why did we blow so much of the clothing budget on these frilly wisps of not-much?
She closed her eyes and thought back to the store. There, a model had repeatedly changed and displayed outfits. The model was no singular beauty, just another average woman with the luck to have a job she seemed to enjoy - and she owned every outfit she modeled; Nancy had asked. They don't let you try on intimate apparel unless you buy. What had made Nancy and Deborah buy them?
Nancy was in the shower now. Deborah opened the packages. The first thing she withdrew was a sheer camisole and panty set in peach. Nancy had said, "Good Lord! If Bob sees you in that, he'll eat you up like French Vanilla ice cream." Well, that explains that purchase. Are they all like that? Nancy pulled out another item.
A black lace garter belt and sheer black nylons… "Oh, my! Bob sees those, Nancy, and he's all over your ass." Deborah giggled. I guess I take the blame for those. I pushed her buttons. She dumped the bags on the bed. Looking over their buys, she shook her head. She pushed mine, too. We egged each other on unmercifully.
Stepping over to the laundry basket, she undressed for her own shower. Then she stepped back to the bed, gathering the lingerie and setting it on the dresser. One item she didn't remember buying caught her attention. She tried it on. What in the world?
She moved to the mirror on the bathroom door. Deborah didn't consider herself "well endowed," but the push-up shelf bra took what she had and… presented it. Nothing covered her nipples, which the chill of the room caused to stand up. This is downright lewd. I'm certain I'd remember if this was modeled, and I don't.
The bathroom door opened suddenly; Deborah was face-to-face with Nancy, whose face was breaking into a huge grin. Deborah blushed.
"I see you found my present to myself."
"This was yours?" Deborah's blush deepened. "I'm sorry, I was trying to remember when we saw it, and I — I'll take it off."
"No, don't!" Nancy closed the gap. "I said it was a present for me." Dropping her towel, she raised her hands to Deborah's breasts. "I didn't say it was for me to wear."
The light went on in Deborah's head as Nancy bent to take a nipple in her mouth. "Why, you little minx! Oh!" Yes, do that. You aren't the only one with buttons, are you. And I love the way you suck on mine. "What… what else did you get that I don't know about?"
Nancy stood up, her twisting fingers taking the place of her tongue. "Did you know that Lady Victoria had a secret toy department?" Deborah shook her head.
Things got even more… playful… after that question.
Everyone stared at the open velvet box on the coffee table.
"They're really… big." Livvy hadn't accompanied Bob to the Jewelers. This was her first look at the engagement rings.
Pricilla nodded. She was staring, and she had accompanied Bob, but she hadn't seen his final selection. "I made the mistake of telling Bob to double whatever he'd planned to spend. I had no idea just how generous an amount he'd allotted."
Connie sighed as she stared. "They do catch the light, don't they?"
Livvy nodded, still staring. "They're really big."
"The real question," Bob asked, "is do they convey that I am serious in pledging my heart and my soul? I didn't believe a word the jeweler said; he sells dreams and diamonds, and both at a substantial profit."
James cleared his throat. He was staring, too. "Well, I think you managed to just avoid accusations of gaudiness, but not by much. Sparklers like those are impressive. I'm almost afraid you've given our wives some unreasonable expectations." He reached for Connie's hand, nearest his.
Pricilla moved over and took James' other hand. "You didn't answer his question," she chided. Turning to Bob, "Every woman knows it isn't the actual dollar value of the rings that's important. But it goes to symbolism. The engagement ring says something about how a man values the woman he gives it to, but only if he means it the same way. So the most important question is, what do the rings mean to you?"
Bob frowned. "I didn't really care about the stones in the rings. The fact that they are engagement rings is what makes them important to me. At the same time, I wanted something as beautiful as my fiancées. Anything less would be an insult, and even these are only a pale shadow to me."
There were smiles all around. Connie said, "I hope you can remember those words when the time comes." She turned to Livvy. "Isn't that about the sweetest thing you've ever heard?"
Livvy nodded. "They're really big."
Don groaned though he was still smiling. "Jim, where did he say this jeweler was? I think we're going to need to pay him a visit." The ladies laughed, but James only smiled, nodding.
Pricilla noticed, and squeezed James' hand again. "Now boys, you shouldn't feel under any pressure to compete with Bob." She held out her left hand, palm down. Her own engagement ring, welded to the wedding band, sparkled with three stones, one for each of the Lee wives in the room. If the individual stones were smaller, the total carat weight was definitely higher. Connie and Livvy extended their left hands as well, and displayed matching rings. "You've done fine by us."
Livvy swung her hand near the jewelry box. She held her fist with her own rings near the two in the case. "They're really big."
Don reached over and closed the case. He tossed it to Bob. "Guard that with your life."
After the laughter finally settled down, the Lees discussed Bob's travel plans for the morning. Once again, James insisted on providing car and driver after church.
"Doesn't your driver ever get weekends off?" Bob protested.
James laughed. "The drivers are all sergeants, and part of a pool. They get more time off than anyone else in the army, in exchange for working a few weekends a month. After tomorrow, I won't see that driver again for two weeks."
That settled, the ladies helped him refine his plans to get flowers and recommended a good after-dinner cordial.
Just before bedtime, Bob quietly pulled the ring box from his pocket again, and glanced inside. Behind him, he heard Livvy say quietly, "They are really big."
He hoped they were big enough.