The Beantown Girls

Viv looked over at me. Her lipstick had worn off, her hair was frizzy under her hat, and strands of it were sticking to the sweat on her face. She was passing out doughnuts with two hands.

“Alan was talking to one of his buddies and left the spigot on the coffee urn open.”

“I’m so sorry, Fiona,” Alan said. “I thought I had shut it off; I didn’t even realize.”

Nelson was back at work making the doughnuts, doing an adequate job at it except for the doughnut mix that seemed to have exploded all over the counters and the floor. He was standing in a gooey paste of flour and coffee and doughnut grease drippings.

“Alan, it’s fine, but why don’t I take over coffee? You can take charge of the record player and start passing out candy and cigarettes,” I said.

“Good idea, because if I hear that song one more time, I’m going to kill myself,” Viv said through her teeth as she smiled and leaned out the side to pass coffee to the front of the line. “How’s our poor Dots?”

“She’ll be okay,” I said. “Joe Brandon just showed up like a knight in shining armor.”

“Well, that was convenient,” Viv said. “I still think he’s a wolf.”

“So do I,” I said with a sigh.

I started handing out cups of coffee with her, forcing myself to smile and make small talk as I tried not to think about Dottie or how this day had turned out.

“I don’t need any sugar, sweetheart; just stick your finger in the coffee—that will sweeten it up,” said a soldier with a very dirty beard.

“You think I haven’t heard that line before, honey?” I said, giving him a smile and a wink. “You’ve got to do better than that.” His friends started to laugh.

“Hey, girls, good to see you again. Smile for the cameras.” Mr. Gibson walked up to the window with Miss Chambers and a photographer. Gibson was wearing a suit, tie, and fedora, but he didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the heat.

“Hello, Viv, Fiona,” Miss Chambers said to us. “Mr. Gibson would like to come in and serve up some doughnuts with you girls. Take some pictures.”

“Do you have an apron that’s big enough to fit around me?” he asked, laughing.

“I’m sure we do,” Viv said.

Viv took a quick look at the gooey floor and then back at me, raising her eyebrows. I shrugged. We had to let him come in; there was no getting out of it.

“Come on in, Mr. Gibson,” I said. “But please watch your step. Things got a little messy when Dottie got hurt, and we haven’t had a chance to clean up yet.”

“Let me make a quick inspection before you head in, Mr. Gibson,” Miss Chambers said, shooting me a look as she headed toward the door of the Cheyenne.

“I’ll grab you an apron, Mr. Gibson,” I said, turning around to get one out of the cabinet just as Miss Chambers walked in and gasped at the state of our kitchen.

Nelson looked up at her. He was covered head to toe in flour—even his hair was dusted with it. The goo on the floor had turned even thicker, and I had no idea how we were going to clean it all up.

Mercifully, Alan had just left to hand out cigarettes, but he’d forgotten to change the record on the record player like I asked, so the same damn song started for at least the twentieth time. I saw it all through Miss Chambers’s eyes and cringed at what she was probably thinking.

She was about to speak, but instead she jumped back and screamed as Vera Lynn sprang down from the top shelf onto the floor, meowing loudly at the realization she was up to her paws in stickiness.

“Oh God, Vera, no,” I said, grabbing Vera around her waist with both hands and shoving her back up on the top shelf, adding “cat” to the list of things we had to clean that night.

“Congratulations,” Miss Chambers said. She crossed her arms and shook her head, giving her best condescending schoolteacher look. “This is by far the messiest Clubmobile I have ever seen.”

Nelson started to laugh, but I gave him a look that shut him up fast.

“You don’t have to tell us,” Viv said, still pouring coffees and handing them out to soldiers with a smile as Miss Chambers stood there in judgment.

“Yes, it’s a mess,” I said with a sigh as I grabbed another tray of doughnuts to serve. “And I’m sorry for that, and we will scour it tonight. It’s only when Dottie—”

“I know, the accident—that was unfortunate,” Miss Chambers said, interrupting me. “But it also doesn’t really reflect well on you. You’ve got men to serve, and Mr. Gibson is coming in for a photo op, so I will be brief. Bottom line is, I still have my doubts about you three. I was hoping you would change my mind today. But you didn’t.” She lifted one of her feet off the floor and examined the greasy goo dripping off it. “Anyway, we’ve got to send a few more Clubmobiles over to France in a little over a week. The Cheyenne definitely won’t be in that group.”

I felt my cheeks start to burn, devastated that we wouldn’t be going with the first group from our Clubmobile class. I wanted to go for Danny, but at this point, I also wanted to go for myself. I knew we were up to the job, and I was angry that Judith Chambers still didn’t think so. I was furious, but I blinked back my tears of frustration quickly so she wouldn’t see.

“Honestly, things have been going really well overall,” I said. “You can ask Liz. Just today wasn’t—”

“Yes, but this was your observation day, your day to shine,” she said. “And you didn’t.”

She paused, stepping back toward the door, taking one more look around at the mess. “Now I’ve got to bring Mr. Gibson in and warn him he might ruin his shoes. Get ready for the pictures. Put on some lipstick, but no bright red, Viviana.”

She opened the door to step out but turned back, looking Viv and me in the eye.

“One other thing: I haven’t forgotten—one of you has got to learn how to really drive.”

With that, she stepped out and the Clubmobile door slammed shut behind her.





Chapter Fourteen

That evening, after what was by far our longest day yet, Liz brought a very pale Dottie home, and we settled her in with a blanket on the sofa in the sitting room.

“She has fifteen stitches up her forearm,” Liz said. “The doctors told her to take a day off to rest and recover before she’s back at it.”

“I am more than happy to nurse her back to health,” said Mrs. Tibbetts, tucking the blanket around Dottie.

“I’ve got to run, but Fiona, I need to ask you a big favor,” Liz said.

“Sure, what do you need?” I asked.

“I’m sorry to ask this, because I know it’s been a long day already,” Liz said, “but I was wondering if you and Jimmy could make a late-night run, bring coffee and doughnuts to some men that are working overtime at a cement mixer. It broke down yesterday, and now that it’s fixed, they’re making up for lost time by working all night. One of the officers requested it, thought it would really lift their spirits.”

My back ached from scrubbing down the Clubmobile, and I was in such a sullen mood I doubted I could lift anyone’s spirits. But after the day we’d had, I felt I needed to redeem myself.

“Yes, happy to do that,” I said, trying to smile.

“Thank you,” Liz said, visibly relieved. “Jimmy will pick you up in the jeep in about an hour with all the supplies you need; no need to bring the Clubmobile.”

We said good-bye to Liz, and Mrs. Tibbetts brought out some berry tarts and tea as we filled Dottie in regarding our conversation with Miss Chambers.

“I’m so sorry,” Dottie said. “I feel like it’s completely my fault that this happened.”

“Nonsense, Dottie,” I said. “Those huge tins of lard are a pain in the neck to open; it could have happened to any of us.”

“It’s true,” Viv said, lighting up a cigarette. “And honestly? I don’t think she was going to send us to the Continent no matter what happened today.”

“Did you at least get to ask Mr. Gibson anything about the IRC tracking down Danny?” Dottie said.

“No,” I said. That was another reason for my low mood. I was aggravated with myself for not asking when I had the chance. “We were so busy, I swear every soldier in camp turned out for doughnuts, and then the photographer kept taking pictures, and when I finally had a quiet moment to ask Mr. Gibson, he was gone.”

“So now you’ve got to ask Captain Moretti to see what he can find out,” Viv said, pointing at me with her cigarette. “And maybe don’t lie to him this time about Danny being your fiancé?”

“I know, I know,” I said. “I will. Although, now it’s going to be awkward because I lied.”

“Why exactly did you lie?” Dottie asked, frowning at me. “That’s not like you.”

“No kidding,” I said. “I don’t know. I didn’t want him to look at me differently? It was an impulsive thing to do, and now I feel foolish. Anyway, how was Joe?”

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