Naval Academy chapel.â
The cornerstone for the chapel, a Beaux Arts treasure designed by architect Ernest Flagg, had been laid in 1904. Amyâs room, in the west wing overlooking the garden, would have an unobstructed view of the chapelâs magnificent dome. âIf our Founding Father were here right now,â I teased, âheâd tell you that was impossible. The chapel wonât be built for more than a century.â
Amy simply stared at me. Unwittingly, I must have hit a nerve. I felt like a total shit when she explained, âItâs kinda ironic, but three years ago, Drew and I were married in that chapel.â
I laid a hand on each of her thin shoulders and squeezed reassuringly. âOh, Amy, Iâm so sorry. Me and my big mouth.â
âItâs OK, Hannah. I miss him, sure, but itâs over now. Drewâs dead. Iâve sold the condo. The furnitureâs in storage. Itâs time to move on.â
Next door, Melody had turned the volume up. âYou make me feel that, la la la la la, you make me feel so, la la la la la . . .â
The moment was so not-according-to-the-script that Amy and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. âAt least somebodyâs happy,â Amy said.
I picked a hand mirror up from my bedside table and studied my face in the early morning light. âMy eyebrows are pitiful. Thereâs a bit of a uni-brow thing going on here.â Still holding the mirror, I turned to Amy. âWhat did they use for tweezers back then?â
âTweezers? Iâm sure they go back to Egyptian times. Do you want me to ask the diary cam?â
I laughed. âNo, Iâll do it. I have to do something with these eyebrows if Iâm to be seen in polite company.â
With a nervous glance out the window, Amy said, âI laid out your green silk today, but with the weather . . .â
I hopped out of bed, opened up the trunk at its foot and started pawing through it.
âIf they think Iâm going to wear a silk gown in this weather, theyâre crazy. Homespun will do nicely, I think.â I pulled out a dark blue gown. âWhat do you think about this?â
âNice.â She handed me my petticoat. While she waited for me to step into it, she said, âDrew and I really didnât have all that much time together. First it was the training, then he was deployed.â She shrugged. âYou know what they say after the wedding ceremony, when you walk through the arch of swords on the chapel steps and they whack you on the butt?â
I did, and I said so, but she reminded me of it anyway. ââWelcome to the Navy, Mrs Cornell.â I was twenty-five years old, and thought I knew everything, but nothing really prepares you to be a Navy wife, does it? A usersâ manual would have come in handy.â
Amy helped me into my dress, pinned the stomacher in place, then watched, head cocked to one side, as I arranged a scarf around my neck. Once that was done, I could no longer ignore the letter that sat on the silver tray, its official wax seal staring at me accusingly like a big red eye.
I snatched the letter from the tray, plopped down in the chair, slipped my finger under the seal and opened it up. âOh, blast, hell and damnation!â
âWhat is it?â
âIt seems that George Washington is passing through Annapolis on Saturday, a stopover on his way from Mount Vernon to Philadelphia for a meeting of the Continental Congress. Heâs representing Virginia, no surprise. Heâll be staying here overnight. Damn.â
The color drained from Amyâs face. â
The
George Washington? As in the first president of the United States?â
âBingo. But heâs only a colonel. He wonât be president until . . .â I paused to think. â. . . until 1789. Thatâs fifteen years in the future.â
âBut, all our bedrooms are taken! Where will Colonel Washington
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