The phone rang

Agnes hummed like a beehive about the house that bright August morning of 1944 dusting the furniture. Grace and Harold had left for the Friends' School an hour earlier. She'd tippy-toed up to the third floor to let Brian know she was cleaning that morning, but heard snoring behind his bedroom door. His first piano student of the day didn't arrive until mid-afternoon. In recent months, mother-in-law Victoria had started going to Rittenhouse Square to walk Racer, becoming a routine on those Wednesday mornings when Agnes cleaned. Much better that the golden retriever not be underfoot! In these moments, Agnes marveled at how large her old Philadelphia brownstone was!

The ten months had gone quickly since the Navy's chaplain had delivered the awful news. She thought about her family as she hummed "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning." She was so glad she'd taken Brian and the children to New York in December to see "Oklahoma" -- turned out to be the best thing for Grace, who'd climbed into a protective shell after her father'd been killed in the London bombing. Victoria had been the last to recover, and why not? If Agnes's son had been killed, no matter at what age, she'd have hidden behind her bedroom door, too. Thank God that Victoria had come to live with them after Norman went to war -- so much a help to her and the children, especially now that Agnes worked for the War Department. The dinners she cooked spoke of Old England and its majesty.

The phone rang. Goodness, she hoped it wasn't Dr. Dixon. Since they'd been at the White House for the meeting about the Manhattan Project, Agnes's life had been turned upside down. President Roosevelt himself had complimented the work she'd done and had specifically asked the Secretary of War to find a job for her. And now they wanted her to move her and her family to Washington. Her old fears and anxieties rose to the surface. She would have to make a decision and give them an answer, certainly within the next few days. But she did not know. She loved her home and her life here in Philadelphia more than anything. Her parents were both gone, her husband was gone. There was no one to make her decision for her, but she did not want to make the decision herself. Why did life have to be so complicated?