Mack moved closer to Mary Jo.
“They’ve been there for years,” Mary Jo said. “The letters were written in the early 1940s to a woman named Joan Manry, who lived in the house.”
“Joan Manry.” Charlotte slowly repeated the name.
“Does that sound the least bit familiar?” she asked hopefully.
Charlotte’s forehead wrinkled. “I can’t say it does. I was a young bride myself back then. Clyde and I had just married, against the wishes of my parents, mind you. I was far too young, but these were desperate times and Clyde was about to go off to war.”
“From what I’ve been able to decipher, Joan lived at 1022 Evergreen with her sister and worked in the shipyard.”
“As I did,” Charlotte said. “I’m sorry, but the name doesn’t ring a bell. Let me think about it, though.”
“Who wrote the letters?” Ben asked. “A soldier?”
“Yes. His name was Dennison,” Mack supplied. “Jacob Dennison.”
“Jacob Dennison.” Charlotte frowned thoughtfully. “His name does sound familiar but I can’t recall why.”
“I’d love to find out what happened to those two,” Mary Jo said, her voice full of enthusiasm. “I want to know if Dennison survived the war and if he and Joan ever got married. If so, I’ll bet their children and grandchildren would treasure these letters. They’re beautifully written and very moving.”
“Hidden away like that, too,” Charlotte commented.
“Yes, I can’t imagine why she’d do that. The only thing I’ve come up with is that, for some reason, Joan’s sister didn’t like Jacob.”
“Maybe,” Charlotte murmured. “I’ll see what I can learn about those names for you,” she said.
“That would be great.” Mack felt some of the tension ease from between his shoulder blades.
Mary Jo turned to Charlotte again. “You don’t happen to know who lived in the duplex in the forties, do you?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, sorry, but I do know it wasn’t originally a duplex.”
“When did it become one?”
“Oh, heavens, I’m not sure. It must’ve been twenty years ago. The previous owner hadn’t kept up the place, but that all changed when Mack bought it. He’s made such a difference.”
Mack’s heart sank all the way to his feet. He glanced covertly at Mary Jo and was surprised she didn’t react to the news.
“Mack’s made improvements, then?” she asked without letting anything slip.
“The difference is like night and day,” Charlotte said.
Mack stayed quiet, for fear that any remark he made would damn him all the more in Mary Jo’s eyes.
“I’ve kept you long enough,” Mary Jo said after a moment. “I’ll come by on Wednesday with Noelle.”
“Ben and I will see you then.” Ben started to push the cart away when Charlotte turned back. “I’ll find out whatever I can about Joan Manry and Jacob Dennison in the next couple of days and tell you what I learn on Wednesday.”
“Oh, thank you. I can’t wait.”
Mary Jo yanked the cart away from him and steered it back to the diaper aisle at a clipped pace. Mack had to hurry to keep up with her. The anger and betrayal she felt seemed to radiate from her rigid back and stiff shoulders. Unsure how best to proceed, Mack trailed silently behind her.
Not a word passed between them as Mary Jo finished her shopping. He stood, still silent, as she paid for her purchases and exchanged pleasantries with the friendly cashier. The woman’s name tag said Christie Levitt. He thought he’d seen her before, but troubled as he was, Mack couldn’t remember where.
Mary Jo seemed quite cheerful—until he caught her eye. Her gaze narrowed and Mack knew there’d be no reprieve for him. She was upset and she wasn’t going to forgive his deception easily.
Once she’d paid and collected her bags, Mack dashed ahead of her and unlocked the car, opening Mary Jo’s door. Usually he put Noelle in her infant seat but this time Mary Jo did it, not giving him a chance. With nothing more to do, Mack slid into the driver’s seat, and simply waited until Mary Jo got in. His hand on the ignition key, he looked at her.
“Can we talk about this?”
“No.”
Her voice was stark.
“Uh, can you let me know when we can talk about it?”
She didn’t answer.
“I guess that means it won’t be anytime soon?” he asked, attempting a bit of levity.
“Probably not.” She stared out the passenger-side window.
Mack exhaled slowly, then backed out of the parking space. He drove in silence.
“Just when I thought I’d met a man I could actually trust,” Mary Jo blurted out five minutes later, “I discover that not only did you outright lie to me but you continued with the fabrication when you had every opportunity to set the record straight. Were we not discussing this very matter no more than thirty minutes ago?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Can I trust anything you have to say?”
“Yes,” he insisted.
“I doubt it.” She looked pointedly out the passenger window again, her arms crossed.
“Would it help to say I’m sorry?” he asked. And he was. But once he’d told her someone else owned the duplex, he couldn’t ever find a way to introduce the truth. He wished now that he’d tried harder.
“No.”
“That’s pretty harsh, don’t you think? Okay, I screwed up. I admit it.”