And yet, despite what the doctors said, George had the strongest heart of anyone Margaret knew, metaphorically speaking. (That was a Word of the Day in September, but one that she already knew.) Upon his rejection from the army, he had immediately applied for work in the Navy Yard. George had little need for money—his family owned one of the country’s largest appliance companies, and John had affectionately dubbed him the Refrigerator King. But his zeal for helping with the war effort led him to the modest work here in Brooklyn that fulfilled him more than selling state-of-the-art machines that could wash your dishes to Upper East Side matrons.
His college degree had quickly catapulted him to the position of foreman of the engraving section.
Margaret bit her tongue and held back an admonishment. She was worried that he would collapse one day if he didn’t take things easier, but she knew it was hopeless to ask him to do anything halfway.
She’d always thought he would have been an ideal match for Dottie if John had not already won her heart.
“I have good news for you,” George said, his voice steadying. “I couldn’t wait to tell you. Your promotions came through and I’m happy to announce that you both can start in the engraving section, second shift, as soon as next week.”
Margaret’s cold cheeks warmed at the news. She and Dottie exchanged looks, and it was the first smile she’d seen on Dottie’s face all day.
“So soon?” she asked. “Who did you have to pay off to make that happen?”
George laughed. “You think too little of yourself, Margaret. I’ve seen the work that you and Dottie do. And I’ve known you both since John and I met at Scouts. Now, I know that it’s not in the mechanic’s section like you’d hoped for, but I promise that it is an advancement, with an extra dollar per week. If you prove yourself there, you’ll be a shoo-in when something even higher up becomes available.”
“Shoes are something I know well,” Margaret joked.
Dottie rolled her eyes and exchanged a bemused glance with George. “The early shift turns her into a cornball.”
“My brother’s not here with his usual levity, so I consider it my duty to step in.”
“He has more years of practice,” George added, though she could tell he appreciated the attempt.
Dottie rescued her by changing the subject. “Please tell us more about what kind of work we will be doing in the engraving department.” Her voice was quiet and songlike, and Margaret could barely hear her in the wind tunnel created between the brick building and the massive ship to their right.
But George heard easily enough. Attuned, perhaps, to the inflections of the woman he loved in secret. “You’ll be working with machinery that engraves the ordnance.”
“The ordnance!” Margaret exclaimed. “I didn’t know we might be working with weapons. Will it be safe?”
Her assignment in the sewing department had only confirmed how much she liked working with her hands, but she shuddered at the element of danger that this suggested.
“Yes, very safe,” George assured her. “Nothing you’ll be handling will be loaded. That comes later after they send it to munitions. You’ll engrave casings, cannon shells, guns.”
Margaret felt relieved, but goose bumps gathered on her arms at the gravity of a job like this. Although the flags were important, the ordnance played an essential role in the war. That meant that Margaret and Dottie would be playing an essential role.
One more small thing to help John.
Dottie put a hand on George’s arm. “We can’t thank you enough for putting in a good word for us.”
Margaret felt bad for having jumped into the details without even acknowledging the gratitude he deserved. And of course, Dottie would have the consideration to do so. George beamed at her touch.
“Think nothing of it. You know I would do anything for you,” he said, looking at Dottie. And then he caught himself. “For both of you,” he hurried to add.
Margaret sensed his embarrassment and filled the awkward interlude to spare him. “We are in your debt, George. Now and always. You have come through for us at every turn.” And it was true. Not only had he vouched for them to get this promotion, but he’d also shared his sugar and coffee rations with them since the dawn of those measures, insisting that he didn’t care for them. Even though before the war, Margaret knew him to be a three-cups-a-day coffee drinker with heaping spoons of sugar. He’d also given Dottie his bicycle last month when the bus broke down. Not lent—given. And he’d brought over a chicken and string bean casserole a few years back when Margaret and John’s grandmother died.
How could they ever repay him?
Dottie shuffled over to Margaret and leaned against her as if she needed the support. It was nearly imperceptible; no doubt she didn’t want to alarm George and invite questions she wouldn’t want to answer. Margaret put her arm around Dottie’s waist and was grateful that such gestures were commonplace among her and her friends. Her hands lay against Dottie’s thin back, separated only by her cotton blouse. It worried Margaret. Dottie should be gaining weight. But she felt alarmingly skinny.
Margaret made excuses for their hasty goodbye. “Thanks again, George. You’re one in a million. We have to get back to work.”
He put his hands in his coat pockets and rocked on his heels. “I’ll see you both on Monday.”
“Bye, George,” added Dottie. Though Margaret could tell that it took effort for her to push the words out.
When George had walked far enough away so as not to overhear them, she turned to Dottie.
“We need to get you out of here. You look terrible.”
Dottie smiled wanly. “You sure know how to make a girl’s heart flutter.”
Margaret wrinkled her brows. “I mean it. I don’t have any experience with this, but I don’t think you’re supposed to look like death warmed over. Aren’t pregnant women supposed to have some kind of glow about them?”
They started walking back, Dottie clinging to Margaret.
“I think it’s a myth. I don’t know who profits from it, but there is absolutely nothing glamorous about spending the morning losing everything you forced yourself to eat for breakfast.”
“Oh, Dot. Is it really as bad as that?” Margaret felt distinctly helpless.
Dottie nodded. “It’s amazing that something the size of a pea can upend your entire body.”
Margaret paused and pulled Dottie in for a hug. “Well, I’ll bet that sweet pea is going to be worth every second. She’s going to have your eyes and your disposition and John’s chin and his good sense of humor.”
Dottie pulled her head back. “What makes you so sure that it’s a girl?”
Margaret grinned. “She has to be. Back when we used to play with dolls, they were girl dolls. You can have as many boys as you want with my brother. Just give me one little niece to dote on first. Ribbons and lace and frills. The works.”
“Ugh, I can’t imagine ever going through this again.”
“Oh, dear. Is there nothing I can do to make this easier?”
“Just be my friend, Margaret. Like you always are. I’m not going to be able to do this without you.”
They both welcomed the warmth of the stuffy sewing room when they returned. Margaret stayed by Dottie’s side until she was sitting at her station. Perhaps too solicitously, but her worries hadn’t abated.