I blushed at the memory of Captain Ravenel’s lips on mine. Despite my best efforts to forget it, I could still taste him every time I closed my eyes. Which is probably why I hadn’t had much sleep in the past week. A week where I’d happily delegated his care to Nurse Hathaway and the other staff doctors, ignoring his requests to see me.
“It wasn’t like that. He . . . surprised me. And then excused the whole thing to Dr. Greeley by saying he confused me with someone else.”
Margie looked over her shoulder at me. “I wish some good-looking man would surprise me with a kiss. That sort of thing doesn’t happen in the archives at the New York Public Library, unfortunately. And if it did, it would probably be from some old man wearing tweed with suede elbow patches and smelling of mothballs.” She screwed up her face, her good humor returned. “Of course, I’d probably still be grateful. It’s been a good deal too long since I was last kissed. This war is taking far too long.”
“Send a Western Union to Hitler, why don’t you? He probably hasn’t realized.”
“I just might,” she said, turning around and holding up something brown, wool, and indescribable. The only way I could tell it was some sort of garment was because it was on a hanger.
“Whatever it is,” I said, “it’s perfect.”
“It’s a dress that was my mother’s, and not only is it blatantly out of style, but it’s also hideous. And it’s about two sizes too big for you.”
I was already unbuttoning my blouse. “Then let me borrow a belt, too.”
“I’m still not sure why you agreed to go out with this guy, Kate. Just tell him no and let him say what he wants. You’re a brilliant woman—one of very few, I’d bet, who’ve graduated from college in less than four years. And you’re a good doctor, too. Surely your work will speak for itself.”
I slid the rough material over my head, grimacing in the mirror as it settled on my shoulders. “In a perfect world, maybe. But I’m a woman, and a young woman at that. People will believe what they want to believe. They’re already prejudiced against me because I’m only twenty-three and already a doctor. They think I haven’t paid my dues because I graduated from medical school in two years—along with just about every other MD candidate since the war started—which they conveniently don’t remember. Like it’s my fault there’s a shortage of doctors. I’m constantly made to feel as if I need to wear my Vassar diploma around my neck as well as my MD to prove myself.”
I turned to the side and back, making sure the heavy material hid all of my curves. “So, no, my work doesn’t count, only the word of my male colleagues.” I leaned forward and plucked Margie’s cigarette from the ashtray and took a long drag before regarding myself in the mirror again as I blew smoke at my reflection. “Which is why I’m being forced into this charade tonight. I just need to make sure that Dr. Greeley is left with no illusions. I plan to talk about my thimble collection and my crooked toes all night.”
Margie took the cigarette and took a drag before placing it back in the ashtray, studying me with a tilted head and narrowed eyes. “I hate to tell you this, Kate, but even in that awful dress you still look beautiful.” She took a folded handkerchief from the top drawer of her dresser. “Maybe if you wipe off your lipstick.”
I did as she instructed and faced her again. “How’s this?”
She shook her head. “It’s no use. Maybe you should show him your toes just in case.” Margie stuck her head back into the closet and when she turned around she was smiling triumphantly.
“Here are a pair of my librarian shoes—only seen on elderly women over eighty and younger women who are on their feet all day and work in libraries—and which will look perfect with those old stockings with the ladders running up and down your legs.”
I smiled, knowing the thick, clunky heels and manlike uppers would be perfect with the dress. “I hope they don’t turn me away. The 21 Club is pretty ritzy.” I’d wanted to go to my mother’s favorite restaurant—one she’d told me about again and again when I was a child yet where to my knowledge she had not been since I was born—but I’d sadly discovered that Delmonico’s had closed in 1923.
Margie took another drag from her cigarette, then blew the smoke up to the ceiling. “Why’s he taking you there? It’s not like he couldn’t take you to some dive—you had to say yes anyway.”
“His cousin’s the bartender, so he can get us a table. Dr. Greeley is trying to show me how important and well connected he is, I suppose, even though we’ll probably be put in some corner by the kitchen.” I slid on the shoes and sighed. “I can’t believe I went to med school for this.”
“Sure. You could be living the glamorous life of a librarian like me instead. What I wouldn’t give,” she added under her breath.