She took a Chesterfield from her purse and lit it.
Two young Marine officers came into her sight. Both of them were aviators (although she wondered about the smaller of the two; if he was nineteen, she was fifty). As she looked at them, they gazed at her, shrugged at each other, and marched toward her.
Oh, God, that's all I need, two Marine Aviators trying to pick me up!
"Mrs. McNamara?" the taller of them said.
How does he know my name?
"Yes."
"I knew it," the one who looked like a high school kid said in a southern accent you could cut with a knife. "The family resemblance is remarkable!"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Ma'am, I am Lieutenant William C. Dunn. I had the privilege of serving with your nephew, Lieutenant Jim Ward."
"What?"
"Ma'am, may I introduce Lieutenant Malcolm S. Pickering?"
"How do you do, Mrs. McNamara?" Lieutenant Pickering asked politely.
Carolyn ignored him. "You know Jimmy?"
"Yes, Ma'am, I was with him when he had his unfortunate accident."
"That was on Guadalcanal! You were on Guadalcanal?"
A bellman appeared carrying a tray with a glass of champagne on it. "Mrs. McNamara?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Compliments of the management, Madam," the bellman said. "We hope you enjoy your stay with us."
Without thinking, Carolyn took the champagne.
She looked at the young lieutenant.
"If you were on Guadalcanal... did you know Captain Charles Galloway?"
"Ma'am, I had the privilege of serving as Captain Galloway's executive officer," Dunn said.
"Do you know where he is?" Carolyn asked.
"At the moment, no, Ma'am, I do not, I regret to say."
A middle-aged man wearing a gray frock coat and striped pants walked up to them; he was obviously an assistant manager, or some other senior hotel functionary.
"Mrs. McNamara, we're ready for you. Whenever you're finished with your champagne, of course."
"By all means, drink the champagne, Mrs. McNamara," Lieutenant Pickering said. "Never waste champagne, I always say."
She glowered at him.
"You don't know where he is, either, I suppose?"
"No, but I'll bet he does," Pick replied, nodding at the assistant manager.
Carolyn stood up.
"Let's go."
"Finish your champagne," Pick said.
"I don't want any damned champagne, thank you very much!"
"It's been a pleasure, Ma'am," Dunn said. "We hope to have the pleasure of your company soon again."
"Yeah," Carolyn said. "Right."
"This way, Madam," the man in the gray frock coat said.
He led her toward the bank of elevators, but ignored one that was waiting. Instead he put a key in what appeared to be an ordinary door. He opened it and gestured for her to precede him inside. She stepped through the door and realized it was a small elevator.
The man in the frock coat reached into the elevator, pushed a button (the only one Carolyn could see), then closed the door. As he did, an interior door closed automatically, and the elevator began to rise.
When the door opened, Captain Charles M. Galloway was standing in what looked like somebody's living room. He was wearing a perfectly fitting, perfectly pressed uniform; his gold wings were gleaming on his chest.
God, he's so good-looking!
God, and I look like the wrath of God!
And what's going on? What is this place?
"What is this place, Charley?"
"Pickering's mother's apartment. It's ours for as long as we need it."
"Pickering's mother? What are you talking about?"
"You remember the first time we were here? We had dinner with Mr. Foster and his daughter?"
"The one who had a son who was an aviator? Wanted to know about his training?"
"Right. Pickering. You just met him in the lobby, right?"
"What was that all about?"
"They went down to meet you while I came here. We were shooting pool in the Old Man's apartment."
"You were shooting pool in what old man's apartment?"
"Mr. Foster's."
And then Charley slipped his fingers inside his collar, reaching for something.
What the hell is he doing?
He removed his fingers from his collar, impatiently pulled his necktie down, jerked his collar open, reached inside, and came out with a some kind of chain.
"I've got it," he said.
Oh, my God! My Episcopal Serviceman's Cross. He actually wore it!
"So I see," she said.
Thank you, God, for bringing him back to me!
"Carolyn, I love you."
Nobody's here. You feel safe in saying so, right?
"I know, my darling."
"Aren't we... aren't we supposed to kiss each other? Are you sore at me or something?"
"Charley, you don't want be close to me right now, much less kiss me. I haven't been out of these clothes for three days."
"I don't give a damn," he said simply.
"Charley, I desperately need a bath."
"Not for me, you don't."
"For me, I do."
"Jesus!"
"Charley, give me ten minutes, please."
He had somehow managed to move very close to her. She didn't remember him doing it. But all of a sudden, there he was, with his hands on her upper arms.
"I have to kiss you," he said matter-of-factly. "I can't wait ten minutes."
He kissed her, but not the Johnny Weismuller "You-Jane-Me-Tarzan" squeezing-the-breath-out-of-her kiss she expected. He slowly moved his head to hers and, barely touching her, very gently kissed her forehead, and her eyebrows, and her cheeks, and even her nose. And then he found her lips.
By then, her knees seemed to have lost all their strength. She was sort of sagging against him.
"Oh, God, Charley," she said when he took his lips away.
"What I thought about," he said, "was taking your clothes off and then taking a shower with you. Like the last time. Remember?"
"What are you waiting for, Charley?" Carolyn asked.
[FOUR]
The Lobby Bar
The Andrew Foster Hotel
San Francisco, California
1735 Hours 24 October 1942
Lieutenants Pickering and Dunn shouldered their way through the crowd at the bar and finally caught the attention of the bartender.
"Gentlemen?" the bartender asked, then took a good look at Lieutenant Dunn. "Lieutenant, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to see your ID card."
"He's with me," Pick said.
"And I better have a look at yours, too," the bartender said. "They're really on us about serving minors."
Identity cards were produced.
"I'm sorry about that," the bartender said. "What can I fix you?"
"No problem," Pick said. "Famous Grouse and water. A lot of the former, just a little of the latter. Twice."
"Sir, I'm sorry, we're out of Famous Grouse."
"There's a couple of bottles in the cabinet under the cash register," Pick said.