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The countess is sponsoring the show and, with the help of her connections and her husband’s newspaper, we have already begun to stir up interest in the press and with potential benefactors. I had the idea to ask women from the various auxiliary services to be our models. I was worried for a spell, but I’m beginning to believe it might be a success.

I think you would like Lady Winman. She is unconventional and knows her own mind. She is also a great fan of your designs, and every time she comes by the shop I catch her eyeing up the dress Miss Reid is working on. I hope you don’t mind, but I have sold her a green-and-white-striped summer dress from one of your earlier sketches.

Yours,

Sylvia

P.S. We never stopped being sisters, but I promise you that I will do a better job at it.

2 June 1942

Dear Sylvia,

I have only a few minutes because our unit is due to report, but I could not leave your letter unanswered and so I am dashing this off in hopes of making the day’s final collection.

I hope you will follow the advice that you gave me in your last letter and take risks to find your happiness as well. You deserve more than what Horrible Hugo and that woman did to you, just as you deserve to surround yourself with people who embrace you rather than look down their noses at you.

I will let you know how my evening away with Jack goes.

Your sister,

Izzie

P.S. I know the dress you’re speaking of, and I can think of no greater honor than having a countess wear it.

2 June 1942

Dearest Jack,

I have been approved for leave for twenty-four hours starting at five o’clock in the evening on 9th June.

I cannot wait to see you.

Yours always,

Izzie

Chapter Thirty-Five

Sylvia quickly checked her hat and hair in her gold compact before snapping it closed and knocking on William’s office door. She waited, her ears straining, until she heard the heavy tread of his shoes stop. The door swung open, and immediately her shoulders relaxed.

“Sylvia, what are you doing here? Is everything all right?” William asked, concern etching his brow.

The sight of him bolstered her, and she smiled. “Everything is just fine. I’ve come to speak to you about that legal matter we discussed.”

He hesitated, and for a moment she wondered if he wasn’t going to let her in. But then he stepped back and said, “Why don’t you join me in my office?”

She brushed past him and into the space where nearly seven months ago William—and her mother—had changed her life. Without her mother’s bequest, she never would have reconnected with her sister, rediscovered her talent for business, or seen her married life for what it is. She certainly wouldn’t have had the courage to ask William for help with what she was about to do.

Sylvia took the same seat she’d sat in for the will reading and watched as William rounded his desk. He sank down into his leather chair, steepling his fingers and taking a breath like a battle-weary knight pulling on his armor for one last fight.

“What can I help you with?” he finally asked.

Rather than replying, she opened her handbag and pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper. She opened it and placed the precious squares of chocolate on the desk between them.

“You’re always bringing me sandwiches, so I thought it was only fair to return the favor. I seem to remember that you always did love chocolate as a child,” she said.

“I never did grow out of my sweet tooth. Thank you.”