Chapter 5
Santa Monica, 1945
“Isn’t the sunshine wonderful?” Celina tossed her head back in the convertible, letting the breeze blow through her hair, which she’d secured with a paisley print scarf tied just so at the nape of her neck as her mother had taught her to do.
Beyond the glistening beach, the ocean roared onto the shoreline. Pelican and cormorants dove into the white-tipped waves for fish, while smaller shorebirds skittered across the sand in peripatetic paths.
“Feels good to have a full tank of gas and be out on the open road again,” Tony said. With one arm stretched across the back of the bench seat, he drove along the Pacific Coast road, his other hand resting on the Chevrolet’s large steering wheel, the engine rumbling beneath the long hood. “I knew you’d love this trip,”
