The next day as Ginger slept through breakfast, she admitted to herself that perhaps she’d had a little bit too much to drink the night before. Haley brought her coffee and dry toast, and by noon she was feeling well enough to take part in the luncheon.

When she got to the dining room, she casually glanced around and noticed a few familiar faces. Nancy Guilford made a personal appearance sitting with Patty Applebalm, who wore a gingham day dress and low-heeled oxfords, quite suitable for the time of day and her station. The actress, though, in Ginger’s opinion, was overdressed for luncheon. She wore a long frock with her trademark calf slits, and her face was laden with makeup. It was almost like she’d slept in her evening wear the night before and only recently woken. Perhaps she had. On closer inspection, the makeup did appear smudged. Patty reached over to wipe a spot of egg from the corner of Nancy’s mouth, an act of kindness Nancy didn’t appreciate, and she smacked away the older woman’s hand.

Mr. Basil Reed caught Ginger’s eye as she and Haley strode across the room. Haley noticed the exchange.

“He’s attractive,” she said as they selected a table.

Ginger sat gracefully in the seat opposite her. “He’s too old for me.”

Haley huffed. “Your father married a younger woman.”

“Look how that turned out.”

“It turned out well for her.”

“I suppose. But my father was rich. She’d never have married him otherwise.”

“Are you saying you’re not interested in Mr. Reed because he’s not rich enough? Surely he must have some money to afford first class.”

“Of course not. Mr. Reed’s financial status is of no concern to me. You know the reason I’m not interested.”

Mentioning the man’s name had conjured him. “Ladies, may I join you?”

Ginger blinked back a wave of embarrassment. Had Mr. Reed heard them talk about him? And worse, how had she grown so careless as to be caught out like that? She was normally very astute. She promptly recovered.

“Please do. In fact, we were just talking about you.”

Basil Reed occupied the chair nearest Ginger and raised a dark brow. “Is that so?”

“Yes, Miss Higgins was saying how she wished she had danced at the cocktail party.”

Haley shot her a dirty look.

Basil smiled at Haley. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.” He removed his hat and stretched out an arm. “I’m Basil Reed. And I apologise for being amiss last night. My manners were dreadful, but I confess, I don’t remember seeing you there.”

“Miss Higgins,” Haley said. “And please, don’t mind Mrs. Gold’s mistaken inference.”

“Miss Higgins is a nurse,” Ginger said. “She cared for my father before he passed away last year, and we became dear friends over that sad time.”

Basil Reed held Ginger’s gaze and added politely, “I’m sorry to hear about your father.”

Haley turned her attention to the day’s menu. “I hope you like onions, Mr. Reed,” she said. “The entrée is French onion soup.”

“One of my favourite soups, Miss Higgins.”

The food arrived courtesy of the redheaded waiter who had served Ginger before. He wore a name tag—Roy Hardy—and the buoyant smile of someone who loved their job.

“Thank you, Mr. Hardy,” Ginger said as the server placed the meal on the table.

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Gold. Enjoy.”

Ginger and Haley removed their gloves before beginning the entrée—which, along with slices of fresh-baked baguette, was simply delicious. They made light discussion with Mr. Reed about the differences between American and English social customs and the bright future ahead for both nations.

“Certainly, housewives have benefited from kitchen items like electric mixers for baking, and vacuum cleaners for simpler housework,” Ginger remarked.

Basil Reed looked at her as if he didn’t quite understand, and then said, “Oh, you mean Hoovers.”

“Tomato, tomahto,” Haley murmured between sips.

“Also the automobile industry,” Basil Reed added. “Thanks to, for the most part, your own Henry Ford.”

Haley nodded. “Good old Henry.”

“Who would’ve guessed that every home could soon be in possession of a radio,” Ginger said. “So essential for the growth of culture.”

“And the delivery of information,” Basil said. “Like politics.”

Ginger stared at him. “Indeed.”

The main course of moist baked halibut dressed in a creamy lemon and basil sauce with a side of buttery green beans arrived.

“Smells scrumptious!” Ginger said. “Monsieur Babineaux is a charm! The French seem to enter the world possessing exceptional culinary talent.”

Once they all sampled their first bites and made appropriate yet subtle noises of approval, Ginger turned to Basil Reed. “Mr. Reed, do tell us a bit about yourself. Were you born and raised in London?”

“Yes, madam.” He gestured with his left hand. “I know London inside and out.”

Ginger had noticed the plain gold band on the man’s ring finger the evening before. Had he, too, suffered the loss of a spouse?

“Is there a Mrs. Reed?”

A shadow crossed their companion’s face for an instant. “Yes.”

“She didn’t join you on your trip to America?” Haley said. “I hope she’s not in ill health.” Haley poised herself like she was just being a concerned nurse and doctor in training, but Ginger knew Haley’s curiosity was more personal.

Basil Reed hesitated. “Unfortunately, Mrs. Reed is visiting her sister in Paris.” He adeptly changed the subject. “Miss Higgins, what brings you to London?”

“I’m studying to become a medical doctor.”

“That’s quite, um, ambitious.”

Haley leaned back and crossed her arms. “For a woman?”

Ginger bit back a grin. Haley was about to launch into her views on feminism.

“Mr. Reed,” Haley continued with a clipped voice. “All women in America now have the right to vote, not just those who are over thirty, like in your country. American women are considered equals to their male counterparts. Any profession that a man may pursue is available to a woman, and if it is not, it damn well should be.”

Basil Reed sat back as if he’d been attacked by a gale wind. “My apologies, Miss Higgins. I never meant to offend. I’m sure ladies everywhere would appreciate having more female doctors about. And, of course, I support women’s right to vote. I do hope that the British Parliament will soon pass a law to match the forward thinking that is found in America.”

Basil Reed took a long sip of his coffee and shifted his focus to Ginger. “How about you? What brings you to London? Are you on holiday?” He glanced at her ring finger and threw the question back. “Without your husband?”

“Sadly, my husband passed in the war.”

Basil Reed twitched at his unintentional insensitivity. “My condolences.”

“It’s quite all right, Mr. Reed. My trip to London is more business than pleasure. I must attend to my father’s estate. It was serendipitous that Miss Higgins was heading there at the same time. Once the matter has been sorted, I’ll be returning to Boston.”

“Your father was English, then?”

“Oh, yes, through and through. Right up to teatime at four p.m. with crustless cucumber sandwiches and beans on his breakfast toast.”

“He sounds delightful.” Basil Reed considered her. “It makes sense now how an American woman could come across so English.”

“Yes, I adore the benefits found in both cultures.”

“Righto. Well, I do hope that you enjoy London for as long as you might stay.”

The waiter returned to retrieve the dirty dishes, and Haley stood. “It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Reed,” she said, “but you must excuse me. I need to return to my books.”

Basil Reed looked perplexed as he watched her go. “Your friend’s the serious type, isn’t she?”

Ginger laughed. “You could say that.”

Haley wasn’t gone long before their attention was captured by a loud commotion coming from the kitchen.

“What do you suppose is going on in there?” Ginger said.

Basil Reed wiped his mouth with a cloth serviette. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Babineaux rushed across the dining room to Mrs. Walsh’s table. He spoke too softly into her ear for Ginger to understand what he said, but the expression on Mrs. Walsh’s face was of shock and horror.

Nancy Guilford, whose gaze scanned the room nonstop—no doubt searching for the captain—approached Mrs. Walsh’s table unabashedly.

“What’s the matter, puddin’?” she asked with her nasal voice. “Has something happened?”

Mrs. Walsh turned away, and much to Miss Guilford’s chagrin, Babineaux took the actress’s elbow and guided her back to her own table.

“Please excuse me,” Ginger said, leaving to see to Mrs. Walsh before Mr. Reed could say anything to stop her. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach as she approached the woman.

“Is something wrong, Mrs. Walsh? Anything I can help you with?”

Mrs. Walsh covered her mouth with her fingers, pushed away from her table, and rushed out of the room. Ginger stared after her.

Babineaux returned and said with a thick French accent, “Eet’ ees terrible, madame.”

“What’s happened, Monsieur Babineaux?”

Babineaux’s voice wavered. “I am so sorry to have to tell you that Captain Walsh ees dead.”