Behind

Before Sofia had even placed a foot on the ground outside the car, Charles had made it to the Tylers’ front door. East Grand Avenue might have larger mansions, but for Charles, single-minded in pursuing the management job at Plymouth Motors, the Tylers were simply the end. George Tyler was president of the motor division.

“Hurry up, Sofia, don’t be running behind all the time,” Charles said.

It was difficult, rushing to step out of this car, Plymouth’s latest incarnation of the small car, the Valiant Barracuda. She’d borrowed Charles’s mother’s mink stole for this occasion, too tight in the midsection, and she had a tough time getting out of the car. And then walking in these high heels – Charles insisted she must dress her best for this cocktail party.

“Just one moment, sweetheart.”

Sofia tried to adjust her face into happy lines, her beehive into a neat pile on top of her head, and her skirt into place. With all the snow, the air was so dry, her skirt stuck to her stockings, and this mink stole simply didn’t help. When Sofia reached to close the door, her finger felt a shock on the handle.

But she’d do anything to help Charles in his career. It was a wife’s duty, after all.