Crimson Kiss

CHAPTER ONE


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April 21, 1944



When Maggie O'Neill came home after pitching for the Hunter College varsity

softball team, she saw that her roommate, Bridie McGovern, was putting away the

cleaning supplies.

"About time," Bridie grumbled at her. "Did you deliberately pitch slow so that

all the cleaning would be done when you got home?"

"Fair is fair, Bridie. Didn't I agree to do all the cooking and dish washing next

week if you'd clean the house today? And I went into the USO at eight this

morning to help with the blood drive. Besides, you're in very good company. I

read somewhere that Joan Crawford cleans her Hollywood mansion on her hands

and knees."

"Big deal," Bridie grouched.

"Anyhow, don't be mad—look what I brought home." Maggie reached into the

brown paper bag she was carrying and removed four bottles of beer.

Bridie's mood immediately improved. "Great! I'll get the bottle opener; you get

some glasses. Did you bring home any cigarettes? I'm all out."

After the girls were seated on the couch, Bridie asked, "How's the blood drive

going?"

"Not bad—I must have called everyone in Manhattan to come out and give

blood on Monday."

Bridie eyed Maggie. "And will the donors include yourself?"

"Of course," Maggie said indignantly. "I've never not given blood. I just have a

little trouble with the needle."

Bridie snorted. "A little trouble? I never saw anyone over the age of five make

such a fuss about needles. Anyway, how was the game?"

"I pitched a shutout," Maggie said gleefully, opening the second bottle of beer.

"You should have seen the looks on the faces of those Barnard snobs."

"Good—then maybe my news won't bother you too much."

"Is something wrong?" Maggie asked.

"I can't go with you to Pauline's tonight." Pauline Manchester was a wealthy

girl Bridie and Maggie had met at the USO. They weren't really close, but Pauline

had invited them to one of her mother's society parties. They'd gone to a few in

the past and both girls had been looking forward to the party.

"Why can't you go? Is something wrong?"

"The hospital called." Bridie was a student nurse at St. Vincent's Hospital. "A

bunch of girls called in sick. They need me to work the midnight-to-eight shift all

weekend."

"That's too bad."

"Are you still going?"

"Of course."

"What will Johnny think?" Johnny Devlin was Maggie's fiance. He'd been

wounded in France and had come home three weeks ago.

Maggie frowned and lit another cigarette. "I don't have to answer to him. And

anyway, who says he has to know I'm going by myself? He's up at Harvard this

weekend on an admissions interview."

Bridie opened her second bottle of beer. "Maggie, is there something wrong

between you and Johnny?"

Maggie took a strong pull of her cigarette before answering. "I don't know. It's

just that he's different now. Since he came home, sometimes it feels like we've got

nothing to talk about."

"Are you getting cold feet about the wedding?"

Maggie hadn't wanted to think about this, but now that the question was in

front of her, she felt she had to answer it. "I think I am. But I don't know what to

do. Should I break off our engagement?"

"Give it a little more time," Bridie advised. "It could just be that you have to get

used to each other again."

"Maybe," Maggie replied. "Let's talk about something a little more upbeat—like

what I'm going to wear tonight." Maggie didn't want to think about Johnny

anymore. She just wanted to go to Pauline's party and have some fun.



When the butler opened the door to admit Maggie to Pauline's three-floor Fifth

Avenue apartment, the first person she saw was Pauline's mother, Evelyn

Manchester. "Maggie, how nice to see you again!" Evelyn swooped down and

kissed the air in front of Maggie in that curious fashion rich people had. "You look

wonderful, darling."

"Thank you." Maggie knew she looked pretty tonight. She was wearing a violet

gown that had lace shoulder straps, a fitted waist, and a full-skirt that was four

layers of rayon and purple taffeta. Maggie thought the color went well with her

flame-red hair, which she had put up in a French twist.

Maggie looked around the party. "Where is Pauline? I don't see her anywhere."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Oh, she's in love with my guest of honor, and got so

tongue-tied she ran away to hide in the parlor. You know how bashful Pauline is."

"Well, if she likes the fellow, shouldn't she be down here talking to him and not