“Rosa Reed!” Marjorie said with a sparkle in her eye. “It’s so nice to see you.” She sprang forward to give Rosa a hug, which momentarily surprised Rosa. This very non-English custom of hugging at every hello and goodbye took some getting used to.
“Hello!” Rosa said. Marjorie Davidson had transformed from a girl to a woman in the eleven years Rosa had been gone. “You’re all grown up!”
Rosa recognized Joyce Kilbourne and Pauline Van Peridon before Gloria could announce them.
“Hello, ladies,” Rosa said. They both wore less flashy dresses, Joyce, a slender brunette in violet and Pauline with a boyish-figure, in navy. If anyone needed a fuller crinoline, it was Pauline.
“Hi, Rosa.”
Pauline’s voice was soft and gentle. Rosa remembered how Pauline had suffered from shyness as a child.
“Hi, Pauline. So nice to see you again.”
Pauline covered her mouth when she said, “I forgot all about your accent!”
“I’d argue that you’re the ones with the accent,” Rosa said warmly.
Joyce grasped both of Rosa’s hands, leaned in, and kissed her on the cheek. “Oh, Rosa! It’s been too long.”
To the brunette who had only just stepped into the group behind Marjorie, Gloria said, “And you must remember Nancy.”
Rosa’s emotions were in a state of disorder as she stared at the young lady with honey-blond hair who gaped back. Older now, Nancy Davidson—now Kline—had her hair styled shorter, and a little more weight rested on her hips and face, but her round blue eyes and cute ski-jump nose were unmistakable.
“Hello, Nancy,” Rosa said, stepping closer.
Nancy had been Rosa’s American best friend during her days in Santa Bonita through the war years. Practically attached at the hip, they’d done homework together, discovered fashion and boys together, and ultimately, Nancy was the only one to know about Rosa’s forbidden affair with Miguel Belmonte.
The girls had continued to write after Rosa returned to London, but like with Miguel, the effort became too difficult over time. Because Nancy had invited Rosa to her wedding, Rosa had felt compelled to ask Nancy to hers. She had not expected Nancy would come. Or reply, for that matter, and she hadn’t.
Without smiling, Nancy said, “I heard you were back in town.”
Whether Gloria’s impulse to pull the other girls away was an act of sensitivity or merely a need to move things along, Rosa was thankful for a moment to speak with Nancy alone.
“I’ve been meaning to look you up.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I ran into your mother the other day at the bakery. She said you’ve been busy. Three boys?”
“Yes, Eddie junior, Johnny, and Mikey, ages ten, eight, and six.” Nancy risked a smile. “A right handful. Mom’s a champ about taking them occasionally so I can forget I’m an old married woman and pretend to be Marjorie’s age again.”
Rosa returned the smile. “It’s why I like hanging out with Gloria.”
“Are you here on your honeymoon?” Nancy’s eyes darted about in search of Rosa’s phantom spouse.
Rosa frowned. “I didn’t go through with the wedding.” Rosa had done a horrible thing to Lord Winston Eveleigh and walked, rather run, out of St. George’s Church before saying I do. “It’s a good thing you didn’t come.”
Nancy’s eyes brightened, and Rosa saw a glimpse of her old friend in them. “Golly! Now that sounds like a story I’d like to hear!”
2
Diego poked his fuzzy little face through the opening of Rosa’s satchel and meowed.
Nancy jumped. “Holy moly!”
Rosa bit back her grin. “This is Diego. I found him behind the bakery just before I ran into your mother.”
Nancy let out a sharp laugh. “I wondered why you were carrying such an ugly bag. I thought all your fashion sense had gone by the wayside or something.”
“It’s purely practical.” Rosa lifted Diego out of the satchel and kissed his head, silently thanking him for breaking the ice.
“Oh, he’s so sweet,” Nancy cooed. “Can I hold him?”
“Of course.”
As Nancy snuggled Diego, her eyes went shiny with sympathy. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with your lord.”
Rosa had to laugh at that. “All those titles and class differences sound very posh from this side of the world.”
Nancy limply flapped her palm. “Very posh. You sound so English, Rosa.”
“Well, I am rather English.”
“I suppose.” Nancy eyed Rosa as she handed back Diego. “You know who’s playing in the band?”
“Yes,” Rosa said without catching Nancy’s gaze. “Gloria mentioned it.”
“Eddie’s over there already, with some of his buddies. I’m headed that way.”
Rosa glanced about for Gloria and saw she and her friends were halfway there too.
“I’m fine,” Rosa said. “Miguel and I have already become reacquainted, and he has a fiancée now. I’m fine.”
Nancy narrowed her eyes knowingly. “You’ve said that twice.”
“Then it must be true.”
Rosa thought she could easily hang out with Gloria and Nancy and the others and not watch the band. She had Diego to keep her distracted. Right? However, when she rounded the corner to the amphitheater, the first person she saw was Miguel, front and center, on the stage—a guitar slung across a shoulder.
His black hair was oiled back and, for the occasion, styled with a duckbill fringe which hovered over a brow shiny with moisture from the afternoon heat. He and his band members wore casual clothes for this beachside show—khaki-colored pants and short-sleeve, button-down shirts—but all Rosa could see were Miguel’s dimples and copper-brown eyes.
“Are you coming?” Gloria asked, skipping back toward Rosa to grab her hand. Rosa had unintentionally stopped in place. Nodding numbly, she moved forward with her cousin as she tore her eyes from the stage.
Rosa hadn’t seen so many poodle skirts in one place before, and the fascination with saddle shoes became apparent as she watched the guys spin the girls around. They were perfect for sliding across the waxed floor.
The color and music intoxicated Rosa, and she took a moment to recognize Nancy, already out on the dance floor with
