“I suppose Dustin and Harrison will be the only ones left worth anything—lucky men,” Preston said.
I woke up from my ten-second reverie on the succulent attributes of Lucy Wilkes.
“Who’s Harrison?” I asked.
“Old friend. Little stodgy, but you’ll like him. If he shows.”
Preston searched the foyer for familiar faces. The guests were arriving in droves, all decked out for the party of the season, perhaps the last party seeing the numbers of young servicemen who turned out in uniform. They weren’t long for US soil—and maybe not for this earth.
“It makes me kind of sad, too,” Lucy said, apparently having read my mind. Preston was off to meet his friends, while his sister affectionately took my hand and guided me toward the patio of the house where the crowd was gathering.
“I’ve never
