One

January 1940

The smell of ground beef frying in the skillet filled the kitchen. Josie grabbed a bottle of milk from the icebox and turned to the table.

“Mix the biscuits. Brown the meat.” The steps to preparing the meal tripped off her tongue. Tonight they would celebrate their two-month anniversary. She wanted to make the evening special but didn’t trust herself to broil steak. If only she’d paid a bit more attention when Mama had tried to teach her the finer details of cooking. Nope, she’d had to focus on housekeeping. The apartment sparkled while she slowly tried one recipe after another with varying degrees of success. She was blessed that Art played the good sport regardless of what she plopped on the table.

Warmth flooded her at the thought of Art’s smile as he walked through the front door and pulled her into his embrace. She counted down to the moment he appeared. Each day, it seemed he raced home as if another moment’s separation would be too much.

Two months. In her most extravagant imaginations, she hadn’t pictured how wonderful marriage truly was.

She glanced around the apartment. It was small, but close enough to Art’s job that he walked to the factory on all but the coldest days. While he worked, she added touches to the rooms, turning the space into a home. Grandma’s davenport, decorated with a few pillows and Aunt Mary’s doilies, sat against one wall in the living room. A tiny, round table—nothing like Mama’s large one—filled the other corner. Josie had slipped a flowered cloth over it. The matching fabric for curtains sat on the lone chair in the bedroom. Soon, she’d buckle down and hem them. She’d made great strides in the room, but there was more she could do to make it feel like home. She turned on the radio that sat on the floor next to the couch. She’d fill the air with Glenn Miller tunes matching her celebratory mood.

As the swinging music filled the air, Josie spun around the room. She must make quite a picture. Joy bubbled inside and spilled over as she laughed.

“It’s only a two-month anniversary.”

If she felt this excited now, she couldn’t imagine what life would be like when they hit six months. A year. Fifteen years.

❧

Art glanced at his pocket watch. It felt weighty and substantial in his hand, like the expectations of the men in his family, particularly his grandfather. He’d never forget the words Grandfather spoke as he had handed the gold watch to Art at his college graduation. “You may have graduated, son, but the men in this family have each earned their way in this world, and I expect no less of you. With your education, you should do more than the others.”

Do more.

No handouts.

Grandfather couldn’t have been clearer. He was a self-made man and expected nothing less from Art. Forget the millions sitting in Grandfather’s bank account.

A little money would have been nice as a wedding present. Help him and Josie get started. But that wasn’t Grandfather’s way. Art could respect that.

Art’s thoughts turned back to his desk. He’d cleared about as much as he could if he still hoped to get home at a decent time. His accounting job with the E. K. Fine Piano Company was a good position. It built on the eclectic experience he’d gained at a small firm in Dayton. The difference? Now he used his education and training every day. That’s what he’d wanted when he took the position.

He looked at the stack of papers and corporate books on his desk. A weight settled in his gut. He could work for two months straight and never complete all the work. The firm had been without a bookkeeper too long. It would take forever to straighten out the mess. Yet Art also knew he should be grateful. Thanks to the weak economy, good jobs were still hard to find.

He stared at the piles of paper, but his thoughts were with his bride. Josie. Warmth filled him at the thought of her. Marriage to her exceeded his hopes. Life was richer. Not for one minute did he miss going home to a small, empty bachelor’s pad each evening. He glanced at the watch again, deciding to stay a few minutes more. After all, working hard at his job was taking care of his bride.

“Wilson, you still here?” Edward Kendall Fine III stopped at Art’s desk. The rotund man liked to emphasize the fact he was the third. Art failed to see the significance since he’d never known E. K. Fine the first or second. “Burning the midnight oil, I see. I like that in a man. Willing to work until the job’s done.”

Art wavered between smiling or groaning. In the few weeks he’d been at E. K. Fine’s Piano Company, it had become crystal clear that E. K. Fine would squeeze everything from the men in his employ. Every last drop of work.

“Making sure I understand the complexities of the company, sir.”

Mr. Fine showed his crooked teeth in what some would call a smile. “See to it you do, Wilson. This is a big company. Lots of issues to stay on top of. Keep those books clean.”

Art nodded, then opened his mouth.

“Well, I’m off to see the missus. Good night.”

Art closed his mouth. Surely if Mr. Fine was headed home, he could, too. The time on his watch stamped in his mind. Six o’clock. He’d have to hurry his walk or be more than an hour late. Josie would understand, wouldn’t she?

❧

The dish sat on the stove, ready to pop into the oven the moment Art walked in the door. Josie curled up on the davenport and tried to follow the flow of words as they swam across the pages of the book. Usually, Willa Cather’s characters spoke to her, but tonight, every fiber seemed tuned to the door as she listened for the sound of Art’s footsteps in the hallway. Her stomach grumbled its protest that it was past dinner time.

She heard the creak of one of the hall floorboards. Josie tossed the book onto the couch and stood. Brushing the wrinkles from her skirt, she hurried to the door. He was finally home! Josie pulled the apartment door open and leaned against the doorjamb. “Welcome home.”

Art’s hair stood up in all directions, as if he’d carelessly run his fingers through it. A smile tugged the corner of her mouth at the thought. She’d seen him make that gesture so many times.

Fatigue weighed down the corners of his eyes. “Thanks.” He brushed a kiss on her cheek and pulled her into the apartment with him. “Another day in the office finished.”

“Night, too.” She whispered the words under her breath. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

Art stopped and looked at her. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothing.” Josie slid her arms around his waist. “I wish my groom were home more. It’s lonely here without you.”

“I miss you, too.” He snuggled her closer. She giggled and pulled away.

“Let me get supper in the oven.”

Art shrugged out of his coat, plopping it over the back of a chair. “Smells good.”

Josie crossed her fingers. “Hope it tastes good.” She drew the word out as she popped the pan in the oven. Tugging him to the couch, she sank onto its cushion. “Tell me about your day.”

He leaned against the back, head tipped toward the ceiling. His words about trying to catch the company’s books up-to-date flowed over her. She didn’t really understand much of what he did, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was that he loved what he did. And he loved her. She might be a little lonely when he was gone, but she’d do something about that eventually. Right now, she enjoyed the time to develop their relationship as it explored this new level.

“Did you get out today?”

“Just to the library and the grocer.”

Art laughed. “I don’t know if that qualifies since the grocer is downstairs.”

“The library does. I had to walk almost a mile round trip.” She shuddered in an exaggerated shiver. “It’s too cold to do even that right now.”

His fingers caressed her cheek. “Are you happy, Mrs. Wilson?”

“You’ll have to come up with a harder question than that.”

“You haven’t answered me.”

Josie smiled. “I can’t imagine being happier.”

❧

The conversation lingered in Art’s mind long after dinner had been eaten and the dishes cleared. Josie seemed so content in their relationship, but he wondered about her loneliness. He didn’t expect Josie to spend her days in the apartment. Yet that’s what she’d done since they’d moved. He’d asked her to marry him, then transported her out of the familiar to a new world. She’d always seemed the kind who loved adventure, but maybe the reality of living in a new and different place didn’t match the glamour of the idea. Her words indicated she didn’t think much about it, but still, he wondered.

After work the following day, he stopped at a bookshop. She loved to read. Maybe a book would be a nice surprise gift. He ambled among the rows, trying not to sneeze through the dust that filled the air and tickled his nose. Which of the many volumes would appeal to her? She read so much he couldn’t keep up with her list. It had taken her mere days to discover the library branch near their home, a find that saved them immense amounts of money. Today, though, he wanted to surprise her with a book that would be meaningful to her. Among the rows of books, he spotted a nice fat tome. Gone with the Wind. Maybe that would work. At least it had lots of pages. Certainly, it would fill a few of her hours.

He climbed the stairs to the apartment with a spring in his step. Running to the door, he threw it open. “Darlin’, I’m home.”

Silence answered. He tossed his briefcase on the floor and roamed the rooms—taking all of thirty seconds—but Josie wasn’t there.

He pulled off his suit coat and then loosened his tie. Guess he’d settle in and wait. He looked at the briefcase. Maybe the thick book would work for him, too. He settled on the couch and cracked it open.

The scrape of the key in the lock pierced his mind. He rubbed his eyes and then looked at the thing weighing down his chest.

“Well, fiddle-dee-dee.”

Josie swept into the room, cold-kissed roses filling her cheeks. “What was that?”

“Um, nothing.” Art ran his fingers through his hair and sat up. “Where have you been?” He winced at the note of censure in his voice. “I was surprised you weren’t here when I got home.”

“I decided to go out. Explore the neighborhood despite the bite in the air. Eclectic architecture fills the neighborhoods around here. Brick. Wood.” She pulled a beret from her head and tossed it on the table. A quirky grin—one of her best features—creased her face. “The birds beckoned me to join them.” She flopped next to him on the couch.

“In the snow?” He tried to hide his skepticism, but her raised eyebrows signaled he’d failed. He put his hands up, palms out. “Okay. You’ve transformed into a snow princess who loves the cold. Snow White with the animals talking to you.”

“As long as you think I’m the most beautiful in the land.” Her face scrunched in a pout. Art couldn’t resist her and didn’t need to, so he reached for her and pulled her into an easy hug.

“There’s no question.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “There’s no one else for me. No one more beautiful. No one more silly.” She poked him in the side. “And no one else I could love.”

Josie leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed.

He pulled back. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, my princess can’t sigh like that without explaining. A prince needs the opportunity to fix his beloved’s woes.”

Josie giggled and shrugged. “I don’t know how to explain.” Oh, it hadn’t taken Art long to learn those words were often the forerunner to something important. “I love the life we’re building together. But some days, it feels like I’m stuck. There’s got to be more to this area. If only one of the churches we’ve visited felt like home.”

“We’ll find one.” Out of all the churches in Cincinnati, one had to feel like home. Someday. Until then. . . “What about ladies at the library?”

Josie crinkled her nose. “They’re either old or have lots of kids. I don’t exactly fit.”

“Why not try?”

“Don’t you miss anybody from home?”

“You’re my home.”

She sat up, and a winsome smile flitted across her face. “I struggle to be as content. I miss my friends. I even miss Mark and Kat. Before we moved, if you’d told me I’d miss Kat, I would have laughed. But I’d welcome her never-ending teasing right now.” She wiped a tear away, and Art felt something inside tighten. “I love you, Art.” He was so glad to hear those words. “I guess I didn’t understand leaving would be so hard.”

Art sank deeper into the couch. Someday, he’d give Josie the nice furniture she deserved. No more handouts from family. Until then, he wanted to make her happy.

“What will help you meet people? Make Cincinnati feel like home?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll live in the library every day. Escape in a book.”

Art grinned. He’d known Gone with the Wind was the ticket. “I got this for you today.” He handed the heavy book to her. Her eyes lit up as she took it from him.

“Ah. Fiddle-dee-dee, indeed.” She fanned the pages. “How much have you read?”

“Only enough to know the Tarleton twins don’t stand a chance with Scarlett.”

“Hmm.”

“But I do with you.”

She snuggled closer. “Then I think it’s time to kiss me, mister.”

Art couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do.