#winnie!!

“Sorry, I can’t make it—”

“Mammi needs me at the hotel—”

“I have to cover a shift tonight for my auntie—”

Excuse after excuse as to why Vika hadn’t made it to any of their outings or book club meetings recently, and Juliet was getting the sense that something was off.

She didn’t even want to talk about her last date with Benny!

Vika usually loved gushing about an evening spent with Benny— usually in whispers so her mother wouldn’t overhear and all their efforts to keep it secret were undone— and with their last one being the weekend of Valentine’s Day— several weeks ago, now— she had been practically giddy at the thought of having someone to properly celebrate the holiday with.

She brings it up during book club that evening with the girls.

“Have you girls heard from Vika lately?”

“I’ve called a few times, lunch invitations or just chatting, but I haven’t gotten much out of her…” Olive frowns.

“Perhaps she’s just busy?” Jo ventures, “With the weather getting warmer I’m sure the hotel’s getting more business.”

“Maybe…” Juliet muses, “But… has she mentioned anything about her last date with Benny?”

There’s a collective murmuring, hummings of no and shaking of heads around the room.

Juliet sighs.

“That’s what I thought.”

When the boys return from their outing, they report back to their girls that they couldn’t get much out of Benny either— they all noticed that he seemed worried about something, though.

So is it really any surprise when they all show up on Benny’s doorstep— or rather, in the hallway of his apartment— a few days later?

“Hey! Uh, not that I’m not thrilled to see you all,” he stammers as they push past him into the apartment, “but maybe a call would be nice next time? Give a guy some warning?”

“No can do, pal,” Dougie says cheerfully, leaning down to pet Meatball.

“Something’s up with Vika,” Val says sternly, “She hasn’t been herself since her last date with you— we’ve hardly seen or heard from her— and I’m hoping to god it isn’t because of something you did, but if it is…”

Jules steps in to pull Val back.

“Woah there, tiger,” she laughs nervously, “I’m sure it isn’t anything like that… right?”

Benny shakes his head frantically at the two women now glaring daggers at him.

“No! No, I swear, I’d never… look, it’s…”

He huffs, gesturing to the living room.

“Sit down. I’ll explain what happened on our date.”

The gang’s eyes go wide as the story unfolds: the walk in the park, the secluded clearing, the almost-kiss cut short by the sudden appearance of Vika’s cousin— and when it was clear what was happening in front of him, the sudden disappearance as he ran off to undoubtedly report all he had seen to Vika’s mother.

“She’s on lockdown,” Juliet concludes, eyes wide. “That’s why she hasn’t been coming to see us, her mother’s likely keeping as close an eye on her as she can after… that.”

“Well,” Olive stands, Dougie scrambling to follow. “Just because she can’t come to us doesn’t mean we can’t go to her. Anyone feel like a trip upstate?”

It takes some convincing to get Benny to come along— “what if I just make things worse for her?”— but soon enough they’re all packing into cars and headed for the hotel.

Vika beams in surprise, a hint of guilt in her eyes when she sees the girls entering the lobby, and Jules is kicking herself for not thinking of coming sooner as she hastens towards the front desk. When Vika’s bright smile is replaced by an anxious look, eyes darting around the space for any sign of her parents, she knows she’s spotted Benny.

By some stroke of luck, the lobby is deserted of guests, so they have Vika’s full attention when Olive steps up beside Jules and starts rambling.

“So sorry we didn’t come sooner, chicken— Benny only just explained what happened, I promise if we had known—”

“Thank you girls for coming,” Vika cuts her off with a soft smile. “Benny, I—”

She falters for a moment when she meets his eyes, only continuing when she forces her gaze down to the wood of the desk.

“I appreciate you coming, but it might be better if you left.”

“Oh. I— of course. I…”

Benny turns to leave, looking back in an attempt to catch Vika’s eye.

“I’m sorry, Vika.”

And he walks out.

The girls can only stare at Vika, mouths agape.

“It was for the best,” she says, before any of them can say anything, “My parents won’t like him here, and knowing that I can’t—”

Brown eyes well up with tears, Vika blinking them back as quickly as they appear.

“It hurts.” She says softly, “So it’s best if I don’t see him.”

Jules steps around the desk, wrapping her best friend in a hug.

“What… what did they say, honey? Your parents?”

Vika nearly flinches at the memory, prompting the rest of the girls to crowd behind the desk for a group hug, wanting to comfort her however they can.

Vika draws herself up, strengthened by her friends surrounding her, and tells them softly of her parents’ reactions when she returned home from her date.

“Mammi was angry— so, so angry, but I expected that. Papa… he looked… he was so disappointed, and that hurt more than anything. That I had let him down.”

Her friends hold her as she spills out the whole sorry tale, her mother keeping her busy at the hotel so she has no chance of seeing “that boy” again, her father alternating between giving her disappointed looks that shatter her heart and asking her questions about Benny that only shatter her further.

“Wait, wait,” Val interrupts, “Your dad… asks about him?”

Vika nods sadly.

“He keeps saying he’s just disappointed I kept it all from him.”

“So… if he met Benny— as a sweetheart of yours, not just a friend— there’s a chance he’d approve?”

“I—” Vika blinks, “Well, he’s never quite said that…”

“But it could be worth trying?” Olive urges, hazel eyes wide.

Vika gnaws at her lips, unsure, as Juliet squeezes her hand.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try, Vika,” she gives her a soft smile, “I’m sure Benny could win even your mother over. We could help you convince her to at least meet him properly before banning you from seeing him entirely.”

She turns her gaze towards each of her friends in turn, still in disbelief even after all these months of friendship.

“You girls… you’d really do that? You think it would work?”

“Of course we would, honey,” Val says, fiercely kind.

“Well, what’s all this?”

Grown women though they are, the voice of Vika’s mother startles them all.

Though Vika recovers the quickest, it’s Juliet who speaks first.

“Hello, Mrs. Patel! Apologies for just dropping in like this, but it’s been so long since we’ve seen Vika… I was hoping we could whisk her off for a quick dinner?”

Mrs. Patel’s lips press into a thin line before spreading into her bright hostess smile.

“That’s very sweet of you, girls— I’m not sure if I can spare Ruthvika for quite that long, but I suppose it would be fine if you all had dinner here at the hotel.”

Her way, of course, of keeping an eye on her daughter even with her friends.

“We’d love to, Mrs. Patel,” Jean smiles, “I promise we’ll have Vika back before you know it.”

With her mother’s permission, the girls commandeer a table in the dining room off the lobby.

“Now,” Jo grins as she leans across the table— the smile of a girl who grew up alongside an aspiring lawyer.

Business or Pleasure?

People moved around them at a feverish pace, suitcases in hand, each one rushing to their gate so that they could board their plane in time. Tucked into the corner of the TWA terminal at John F Kennedy Airport, Everett and Valencia Blakely sat sipping cocktails, the couple painfully early for their departing flight to Rome.

“I know Curt wanted to drive us,” Val spoke around the rim of her martini glass. “But, he didn’t have to take my mother so literally when she said we should leave ourselves enough time.”

“I thought you said you were going to talk to him.”

“I did, and he wasn’t listening.”

“Does he ever?” Everett countered, pulling two cigarettes from his pack and lighting them both before passing one to Val.

“Thank you,” she grinned, inhaling before speaking again. “And no, he does not.”

When the bartender came by to offer another round to them, both politely declined. Valencia knew that even though they had an overnight flight and she wanted to sleep, a third drink would have her asleep before she even got on board. Instead, Everett paid their bill, left the gentleman a tip, and helped her off her stool.

“How much time do we have?” He asked her, gesturing to her watch.

“About an hour, give or take.”

“Come on, we can browse the shops by our gate this way we’re not too far.”

“Do we need anything?”

“No, but we need to kill time. Besides, I want to see if I can get us one of those phrase books for when we land.”

“What do you need a phrase book for?” She balked at him, eyes wide.

“So we can speak to the airport staff in Rome!”

“Sweetheart, I speak fluent Italian. We don’t need a phrase book.”

“Isn’t Sicilian different from Roman?”

“I’ll still be able to understand them,” she assured him. “I’m a perfectly capable phrase book.”

“That you are.” He grinned, wrapping the arm that wasn’t laden down with his suitcase around her.

“But I won’t say no to a snack if we can find something sweet.” Val gave his hip a gentle pinch and beelined it for the shop in search of a snack.

By the time they had landed at Leonardo Da Vinci airport, both a little worse for the wear, but having slept enough to get by — they had both kept odd hours during the war— their excitement was edging out any lingering exhaustion. Picking up the bags they had dutifully checked back in New York, they waited their turn in customs to have their passports stamped. When the gentleman at the counter waved them over, Everett, being the gentleman he was, did his best to speak to the customs agent before his wife had to take over.

“Buon giorno, signore.” Ev nodded, handing over his passport.

“Ciao… Americano?”

“Uh, si, yes.” Everett nodded.

“Stai viaggiando per lavoro o per piacere, signore?”

Are you traveling for business or pleasure, sir?”

Eyes wide, Everett turned to Val, who was smiling behind her hand and trying not to laugh. He was trying his best, wanting to learn Italian, but the customs agent was proving too much, too fast for her husband.

“Signore?” The agent prompted again. “Stai viaggiando per lavoro o per piacere?”

“Scusa, mio marito sta ancora imparando. Siamo a Roma in vacanza.” Val cut in with a charming smile, watching as the portly gentleman looked at her in shock.

I’m sorry, my husband is still learning. We’re in Rome on holiday.

“Americana?” He asked her.

“Si, Americana e Siciliana.”

“Che bella,” the man took both passports and stamped them, handing them back with a smile. “Buon Viaggio, Signore e Signora.”

“Grazie mille!” Val smiled, leading Everett from the counter.

“My own little phrase book indeed.” He grinned, dropping a kiss to her forehead.

“You were doing good until he asked if we were here on business or pleasure.”

“Most definitely pleasure…” Ev winked as they approached the line for taxis. “And lots of it if I have anything to say about it.”

“Everett Ernest!”

Let’s Get Away from It All

For most of her life, Josephine had never imagined she’d leave her little block in Flatbush, let alone see much of the world. Yet, here she was strolling the quaint streets of Paris with Rosie. When he had returned home after the war, he had promised her that he would never go anywhere she couldn’t follow ever again. She hadn’t considered that the Nuremberg trials were something she could follow him to —not the trials itself, but overseas— and yet, here they were, strolling Paris together now that they had finished.

Fresh baguettes, pain au chocolate, charming sidewalk cafes with the most delicious coffee she had ever tasted, and martinis that would have Jean Crosby crowing in delight. Yes, she felt that Paris agreed with them both, much the way Brooklyn did. The only thing that was missing were their friends. Their sweet nephew Joseph, and the newest addition to their gang, little Olivia Brady. Those were the things that had Josephine Rosenthal itching to get back home. Otherwise, had they all been here together, she’d have been quite content to become a Parisian, and sip cocktails with her friends every evening by the light of the Eiffel Tower.

“I’ll be sad to leave at the end of the week,” Jo looked around wistfully, her eyes sweeping over the bakery they stopped at every morning. “But, I do miss the gang.”

“Me too, to both sentiments.”

“Have you heard anymore from the fellas?”

“Just that cable from Croz that the house was fine when he and Jean checked in, and that Joseph has been asking for Aunt Jojo.”

“Oh, my little love, I miss him so.” She gave Rosie’s hand a squeeze, knowing that he too, missed the little boy who he once rocked to sleep to the sounds of Artie Shaw.

“He’s getting big…” Rosie mused. “Can’t hold him and rock him to sleep anymore.”

“No, now he just lays down with his head on your lap and drools all over your trousers.” Jo giggled.

“Drools just like his father.”

“Oh I’m sure that has Jeanie all hot under the collar.”

“Wouldn’t you be if I did that?”

“You’d be back at your mothers.” Jo raised a brow, the faintest hints of a smile at the edges of her mouth.

They walked quietly, the sun warming their faces, eyes hidden behind sunglasses, until Rosie pulled her to a gentle stop in front of a small shop. Inside were handmade trinkets, toys, as well as some ceramics and what appeared to be hand sewn table cloths and runners.

“Let’s bring something back for the kids, yeah?”

“Oh yes!” Jo beamed, immediately on board with the idea as they entered the shop. “These linens are lovely too!”

“Pick some stuff out for the girls then, honey pie.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” Rosie smiled, gesturing for her to look further into the shop. “Go on, whatever you think they’d like.”

Perusing the shop, Jo finally returned with her selections; a bowl big enough to hold all the pasta Valencia could dream of painted with a fleur de lis, appetizer plates for Jules with the daintiest of roses painted over them, a crisp, white, linen table cloth for Jeanie to host over, the hand sewn edges having caught her eye so much she picked one up for her and Rosie as well, a table runner that matched the green vase that sat in the middle of The Douglass’ handmade kitchen table, and a set of teacups and saucers for Vika. When she found Rosie, he had a few of the handmade toys set upon the counter by the shop owner, a bashful smile on his face.

“For Joseph and Olivia…”

“They’ll love them darling.”

“I hope so,” he took some of the items from her arms, setting them down with the gifts for the kids. “I know Joseph is big on trucks and trains but Olivia stumped me a bit until I saw the doll.”

“Madeline is very popular with little girls.”

“Then maybe, I think, I did alright.”

“Perfect, my love.”

³⁾ coaxing them, half-asleep, through the house to the bedroom with a tender touch and even softer tone

“Tesoro?”

Vika’s head jerks up at the sound of Benny’s voice, narrowly avoiding jabbing herself in the hand with the needle she’s still holding.

“Hm?” She blinks quickly, trying to force the glaze of near-sleep from her eyes, “Yes? What is it?”

“Vika, I think it might be time for bed.” Benny’s voice is gentle as he gently pries the needle from between her fingers, carefully folding the shirt she was mending and placing it back in the basket.

“No…” she mumbles, sleepy fingers too slow to stop him, “I was almost done… I’ll go to bed after I finish the basket.”

There are only… about five more things that she needs to mend. She thinks. Or maybe it was seven? Either way, her mother had stayed up much later doing much more work— if Ranjan Patel could do it, then so could Vika.

“Nope,” Benny says, gentle but firm. “You need sleep, sweetheart. You’re half-asleep right now, and I’d rather you fall asleep in our bed than out here holding a needle.”

She wants to protest— she does protest, but it comes out as a string of sleepy mumbles that she herself can’t even make sense of, and before she knows it Benny’s guiding her up from the couch, one hand at the small of her back and the other holding her own hand as she’s led out of the living room.

“One little step up here, sweetheart… mhm, just like that.”

“Okay, now we’re turning here…”

“Alright, now sit down here… yeah, bed’s right there, tesoro, there you go— no, sorry, don’t lay down yet, Vika. Let’s get you into your nightgown first.”

She feels… so completely safe, barely opening her eyes as Benny leads her from the couch to their bedroom. She knows he’d never let anything happen to her, and besides, Meatball’s following close behind; she can feel the occasional brush of fur and warm huff of husky breath at the back of her legs along the way.

When they finally reach the bedroom, all Vika wants to do is fall into bed. The only thing stopping her is Benny’s gentle touch, his voice soft as he reminds her that falling asleep even in her house clothes won’t be comfortable. She acknowledges him with a sleepy hum, allowing him to slip off her dress and replace it with one of her soft nightgowns.

She hadn’t realized he’d been paying such close attention to her nightly routine, but even in her sleepy state she’s surprised to feel him rubbing cold cream into her skin, cleansing the makeup she’d so carefully applied that morning.

She lets out an appreciative hum as he massages her skin and moves to pluck the pins from her hair.

“You want a braid or one of your scarves, tesoro?” Benny murmurs, raking his fingers through her dark waves. “I’d offer to do those little pin curls you like, but we both know that wouldn’t end well.”

Vika can’t help but smile as she lets out a sleepy mumble that Benny correctly deciphers as a request for one of the silky scarves she likes to wrap her hair in at night.

The moment her routine is done, Vika falls into bed, curling into Benny’s side as he draws the duvet over them.

“Th’nk you, mera pyaar.”

The last thing Vika feels before she finally falls asleep is the press of lips to her forehead.