When Tides Turn

by Sarah Sundin

  Arch and Lillian were good for each other too. As best man, Arch wore a navy-blue civilian suit, his blond hair neatly styled, his years as a naval officer showing in his upright bearing. Lillian wore a dark green suit and hat, and she kept smiling at Arch. Would they be next at the altar?

  Lillian had opened up since she’d met Arch, and Arch seemed less tightly wound. In his career in the family insurance company, a wife would be a benefit rather than a liability.

  Dan’s gaze slipped to his parents in the front row. Tess’s words last night had rocked him. He’d always assumed his mother loved his father in spite of his flaws. But what if she didn’t see those traits as flaws? What if she loved those traits? What if only Dan saw them as flaws?

  His breath rushed out between tight-pressed lips. Despite everything, his parents had a happy marriage. Sure, they argued sometimes. Sure, they annoyed each other. But they were happy.

  Whenever his father drifted away with his dreams, Mom reeled him in to shore. And whenever Mom got mired in details, he pulled her away to watch the sun set.

  What about Tess?

  Dan faced the bride and groom, but he spied on Tess from the corner of his eye. She wore her Service Dress Uniform, Blue B—same as Jim and Dan did, with the white cover and gloves, appropriate for a formal occasion like a wedding. Little blonde curls fluffed around her face.

  What was it about her?

  On duty, she was polished and professional. On leave, she danced like a fairy in the snow, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  When she was around, everything felt lighter and airier, and he could see more clearly and breathe more deeply. He craved her light, her air, and he needed to be near her. He couldn’t stay away.

  But he knew what would happen if he didn’t resist. Tess would hold him back as Joanie had.

  She was just like Joanie—gorgeous and gregarious.

  A grumble rolled too low in his throat to be audible. That’s where the similarities ended. Joanie had only thought of herself. Tess thought of others.

  Joanie pulled Dan back, demanding more and more. But Tess encouraged him and made no demands.

  Of course, that might change if she loved him. But they weren’t in love.

  That was the way it needed to remain.

  Stay the course.

  20

  Boston

  Wednesday, January 6, 1943

  Tess paused in the doorway to Dan’s office. He wrote at his desk with papers spread before him. With his free hand, he kneaded the back of his neck.

  Poor thing. Only his third day back, and he was already working too hard.

  Tess saluted. “Good morning, Mr. Avery, Mr. Bentley.”

  In one second, Dan’s expression flashed from pleasure to displeasure to professional. “Tess—Miss Beaumont. Good morning.”

  The men stood and saluted, then Dan glanced at his watch. “Eleven forty-five. You’re early. You usually come after lunch.”

  “I know.” An awkward feeling squirmed inside. She didn’t want him to think she was chasing him. “I’d like to ask your advice about something. Could we discuss it over lunch?”

  His forehead puckered. Could he see the worry on her face? “Very well.”

  “Thanks.” She forced a bright smile. “I’ll go check on the yeomen.”

  “I’ll go with you. Mr. Randolph thinks I’m responsible for them.” Sarcasm darkened his words.

  “Say, Miss Beaumont.” Mr. Bentley shuffled papers on his desk. “How’s Miss Thurmond? I haven’t seen her since the fire. Is she all right?”

  “Why, yes. She’s doing well.”

  “Good. If you ever . . . well, pass on my regards.”

  How sweet. He had a crush on her. “If you’d like to pass on those regards in person, come with Mr. Avery to church. In the afternoon, the whole crowd does something fun.”

  Mr. Bentley’s eyes stretched wide. “Mr. Avery has fun?”

  Tess leaned closer and cupped one hand to her mouth. “He only goes so he can look sternly at us.”

  “Is that so?” Amusement flickered in Dan’s eyes.

  “He also enjoys grumbling about all the work he isn’t doing.”

  Mr. Bentley grinned. “He does like to grumble.”

  “He’s a grumble-bee.”

  “All right, all right.” Dan motioned to the door. “That’s enough fun at my expense. Let’s check on the WAVES.”

  Tess followed him down the hall.

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Grumble-bee?”

  A giggle burst out. “That was clever, wasn’t it? And it fits. You’re always so serious. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh.”

  “I reserve my laughter for jokes that are actually funny.”

  He was teasing her, and she loved it. “I’ll work on my material.”

  “You’re beyond hope.” But the merriment in his eyes stirred up hope, unrealistic hope.

  WAVES weren’t supposed to date Navy men. Dan disapproved of her. He thought she’d destroy his career.

  If only her heart listened to logic.

  In the workroom, Tess chatted with the WAVES about their duties. The yeomen had all worked as secretaries before the war. They were fast and motivated, and they’d learned Navy terminology and procedures.

  “Mr. Avery?” she asked. “Are you getting everything you need for your reports? Is there anything else they could do to help you?”

  He gave the yeomen a polite nod. “They’ve been very helpful. They keep daily tallies, so the reports come together in a snap. Thank you.”

  “It seems silly though, sir.” Betty Jean spoke in a low voice, her brown eyes wide, but then she looked past Dan and sat straighter.

  Mr. Randolph strolled into the room. “Another social hour, Mr. Avery?”

  Dan stood at attention. “Following your orders, sir. Supervising the WAVES and conferring with Miss Beaumont about their performance, which is exemplary.”

  His gaze didn’t veer from Dan. “I’m glad someone in this office is willing to work.”

  Tess gripped the back of Betty Jean’s chair. How dare he insinuate that Dan, of all people, wasn’t willing to work?

  “I’d suggest you return to your duties.” Mr. Randolph gestured toward Dan’s office. “While you enjoyed your holiday, your work piled up.”

  “Mr. Bentley kept on top of things.”

  “I just put more assignments on your desk. You’d better see to them, since you’re taking another vacation this month.”

  “It’s a special assignment, sir. Not a vacation.” Dan clasped his hands behind his back, his fingers bunched up around each other. “Training the crews of the new auxiliary carriers in the latest anti-sub tactics.”

  Tess clamped her lips shut. It wasn’t her place to speak, but ooh—that man!

  “With Admiral Howard.” Mr. Randolph’s eyes narrowed. “You’re still his pet, I see.”

  Dan was in serious danger of snapping his own fingers in half. “He advises me, sir.”

  “Well, your duties await. Carry on.” He glanced at the clock. “I suppose you’ll want lunch.”

  “With your permission, sir.”

  A touch of sarcasm, and Tess held her breath.

  “Very well.” Mr. Randolph retreated.

  Dan turned to Tess and inclined his head toward the hall.

  What a horrible day to ask his advice. She grimaced and shook her head.

  He gestured toward the door and departed.

  Not a direct order, but not to be denied. Tess said good-bye to the yeomen and followed him, grabbing her coat and scarf by the main office door.

  Dan waited in the hall outside.

  Tess wound her scarf around her neck. “Are you sure—”

  “I won’t let him intimidate me. The Navy allows lunch.”

  She marched down the hall. “The nerve of him. You’re the hardest-working person I know. And—oh! Not only did he lie about you, but he criticized you in front of others, in front of ratin
gs.”

  “It goes against protocol.”

  “It goes against common decency.”

  He gave her a warm gaze. “Thanks for the spirited defense, but I’ll bear up. Only three weeks left.”

  “Then off to your little vacation?”

  “It’ll feel like a vacation without Randolph. That’s one reason Admiral Howard gave me this assignment. He’s afraid I’ll blow a gasket.”

  She laughed. “I doubt that. You were remarkably composed in there.”

  “Hard, hard work.” Dan held open the door. “What would you like my advice about?”

  On to the next item on the agenda. Tess stepped out into the frigid air. “It’s about Yvette.”

  “Is it about the fire? I thought they ruled it an accident. They did press charges against the owner. Blocking the windows, keeping the doors locked—someone needs to go to jail.”

  “I heard. They ruled out sabotage and arson, and I believe them.”

  “So what’s going on with Yvette?”

  Snowdrifts made white hedges around the buildings. “I went to the apartment yesterday evening. Lillian wasn’t home yet, and Mary hasn’t returned from seeing Jim off in San Diego. Yvette let me in, but she was on her way out. She switched purses, and she was in such a rush that her other purse fell to the floor. After she left, I picked it up. A gun fell out.”

  “A gun?”

  Tess held out one gloved hand. “A tiny thing, no bigger than my hand.”

  “What did it look like?” He shot her an apologetic glance. “Sorry. That wasn’t a good question.”

  “Yes, it was.” Tess opened her purse and handed a piece of paper to Dan. “I drew a picture. Right then, with the gun on the floor. I drew it to scale.”

  Dan studied the picture. “This is excellent. Very detailed. You even recorded the markings.”

  “Don’t worry. I wore gloves when I looked for them. When I was done, I put it back in Yvette’s purse, up on the cabinet. Have you ever seen a gun like that?”

  “No.” Beneath the bill of his cover, Dan’s eyebrows drew together. “I don’t like the looks of this. It’s designed to be hidden.”

  “Like a spy would use?” She braced herself for ridicule.

  “It’s possible. It’s also possible Yvette doesn’t feel safe with a spy in the group, and she bought this to protect herself.”

  “What should I do? This is why I—I wanted your advice. You’re so levelheaded.” She felt like a scatterbrain, but the strength of his gaze built her up inside.

  He handed her the picture. “Take this to the FBI.”

  “The FBI!”

  “This isn’t a police matter. No crime has been committed. But the FBI wants us to report suspicious behavior.”

  “Oh dear.” The brick walls rose high around her. “I don’t think—”

  “You have to. First, the FBI will be able to tell if Yvette is a spy or not. Second, if something fishy is going on in that group, they ought to know.”

  “Oh dear.” Tess grasped the knot of her scarf. “Oh goodness.”

  “I can come with you if you’d like.” Such gentleness under that strength.

  Part of her wanted to accept, to lean on him, to allow his authoritative presence to carry the day, but she straightened her shoulders. “Thank you, but I’ll go by myself. If they brush me off as just a pretty face—”

  “They’ll have to answer to me.” He jabbed his thumb at his chest.

  That was better than a hug. “Thank you.”

  Dan tapped his wristwatch. “We’d better get lunch, or Mr. Randolph will lash me to the main mast and give me forty strokes with the cat-o’-nine-tails.”

  “He’d enjoy that.”

  He strode toward the cafeteria. “I have strict orders for lunch conversation. Not one word about fires or spies or Mr. Randolph. I hereby order you to tell me your best jokes. See if you can make me laugh.”

  “Aye aye, sir. An officer never shirks her duties, no matter how difficult or odious.”

  Dan chuckled. A little low rumble, but an actual chuckle.

  She gasped. “Dan Avery! You did that just to patronize me.”

  “Guilty as charged. I’ll never patronize you again.” But the remnants of laughter fanned around the corners of his eyes.

  How could she not fall in love with this man?

  That evening, FBI Agent Paul Sheffield shook Tess’s hand. “Miss Beaumont . . . have we met?”

  “Yes, sir. I used to live with Mary Stirling from the—”

  “Ah yes. She was my little Nancy Drew.” He gestured to a large dark-haired man standing to the side of the office. “Do you remember Agent Walter Hayes?”

  “Yes, sir.” Tess shook Agent Hayes’s hand too.

  “Please have a seat, Miss Beaumont.” Agent Sheffield sat at his desk and picked up a lit cigarette from the ashtray. “My secretary said you had something to report?”

  Tess’s stomach rolled up like a pill bug. These men hadn’t listened to Mary when she suspected sabotage at the shipyard. Why would they listen to silly Quintessa Beaumont? She set the drawing of Yvette’s gun on the desk. “I found this in my friend’s purse.”

  Agent Sheffield studied it through his reading glasses. “The picture?”

  “The gun. I drew it to scale.”

  He lifted his sandy head, pale eyes riveted on her. “Tell me more.”

  Tess told the story of the discovery.

  The agent took notes. “Yvette Lafontaine, you said? Rooming with Mary Stirling? She was a person of interest in the sabotage case. Hayes?” He flicked his chin toward the door.

  Agent Hayes left the office.

  “Actually, it’s Mary Avery now, sir.” Tess smiled. “She was married on Christmas Day.”

  “Great.” His smile registered little interest. “Anything else with Miss Lafontaine?”

  Just the cold hard facts for this man, Mary always said, so Tess cleared her mind of fluff. “After I found the gun, I was curious, so I did a little investigating in Yvette’s room.”

  Agent Sheffield grimaced.

  “It’s all right,” Tess said. “I wore my gloves.”

  “Don’t do that again.” He shook his head and made more notes.

  “But I found the blonde wig and lavender dress she wore to the Cocoanut Grove on the night of the fire. Yvette wouldn’t be caught dead in lavender, and I’ve never seen that dress before.”

  “The Cocoanut Grove?” Agent Sheffield took a drag on his cigarette and blew out a stream of smoke. “Does this story have a beginning, and could we start there?”

  And she thought Dan was brusque. Tess put on her most professional expression and started at the beginning, with Madame Robillard’s suspicions about Yvette’s jumpiness. Then she detailed the intrigue in the French group, the arrests of the caretaker and the fascist after they were named in the meetings, Yvette’s disguised spying at the nightclub, and how she and Henri took the New Englander north when they said they were going to Cape Cod.

  Agent Sheffield took plenty of notes. When Agent Hayes returned with a manila folder, Sheffield silenced Tess and reviewed the contents, then he interrogated Tess about every member of the French group.

  His urgency filled her with a satisfying sense of validation.

  At last he sat back in his chair and smashed his cigarette butt in the ashtray. “Thank you for bringing this to our attention. We’ll look into it.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  He shot her a glance, and his mouth rounded with the word no. Then his lips mushed together. “No more searches. Inadmissible evidence.”

  She winced. “Sorry, sir.”

  Then he crossed his arms and scrutinized her. “You’re welcome in this group? They speak openly in your presence?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Would you be willing to bring me a written report after each meeting? Who said what and all that. No opinions or hearsay. Only—”

  “The cold hard facts?” She smiled at his
surprise and then at her new purpose—Tess Beaumont, official FBI informant. “I’d be honored.”

  21

  Norfolk Navy Yard

  Portsmouth, Virginia

  Monday, January 25, 1943

  She was no beauty, but she was magnificent.

  Dan and Admiral Howard strolled along the pier at the Norfolk Navy Yard beside the new auxiliary carrier USS Bogue. The shipyard was fitting her out with 5-inch guns and 40-mm Bofors antiaircraft guns.

  “When do you think she’ll go to sea, sir?” Dan asked.

  “Late February, we hope. In time for the spring U-boat offensive.”

  Dan dug his hands in his overcoat pockets. “If you can’t get me to the Pacific, see if you can get me on board one of these babies.”

  The admiral shook his head. “Ugly baby.”

  “She certainly is.” The Navy had modified a hull for a merchant ship, stacking on a thick hangar deck, topped by a flight deck and an island for the bridge. Semicircular sponson platforms jutted out from the hangar deck to support the guns. Clunky. Unwieldy. Ugly.

  But she could carry nine TBF Avenger torpedo bombers and twelve F4F Wildcat fighters anywhere in the ocean, which would allow her to cover merchant convoys.

  Nine hundred officers and men were assigned to the Bogue. “I wouldn’t mind serving on her.”

  “Patience, son. I’ll write your letter of recommendation this week, and I’ll mail it February 1. We’ll get you a plum assignment.”

  “One more week.”

  Admiral Howard shook his head. “If I’d known Randolph had been transferred to ASWU . . .”

  “I’m glad you didn’t intervene. I survived, and I never complained to Commander Lewis. Had to put in some late nights to finish Mr. Randolph’s busywork, but I did it. Lord willing, I’ll never see him again.”

  They headed up the gangway, which jangled underfoot.

  Admiral Howard glanced over his shoulder at Dan. “You seem better today.”

  “Better, sir?”

  “Yesterday on the train ride down, you were distracted. I haven’t seen you like that since Annapolis, when you were dating that girl. You’re not involved—”

  “No, sir. I know better.” But he had indeed been distracted by a woman.