Hello All! I appreciate my readers who still stick with my stories regardless of my absence. I am trying to get back to things I like doing for me because I love them and lvoe being creative, so hopefully that means more regular updates.

A column of light illuminated the dark and dusty hallway. The door creaked as it opened wider, exposing the familiar dwelling that seemed not so with sheets over the furniture and a silence that greeted them. A pile of mail behind the door made a crumpling sound as it was bent beneath the wood of the door.

"Oh!" Gertrude exclaimed in realization, moving around the door and retrieving the envelopes from the ground. She handed the stack to Phil, who had to set down his suitcase in order to receive them. He looked at them in growing irritation, as each continued to show older and older post-dates. Phil chuffed unamused laughter through his nose as he showed multiple envelopes to Gertrude, all letters from her.

"Looks like Mitzy didn't follow up on the mail like she said she would," Phil grumbled, shifting the pile of envelopes in order to hold them and pick up his suitcase.

Soles of heels grinding against small bits of rock and dirt on the stoop steps announced Priscilla as she ascended. She stood expectant behind them dressed in a jade wriggle dress that accentuated her slim figure and dark hair. Her leather suitcase and matching hatbox under one arm containing all her clothes and belonging she had kept much in the recesses of her closet at nunnery, much like the gi Gertrude had hid.

"Is everything okay? We going in?"

Phil didn't answer, just pushed into the hallway with a steely look on his face.

The two women watched him grumble to himself as he walked made his way into the kitchen.

"Di-id I say something wrong?"

Gertrude watched Phil go, slightly worried about how much worse his relationship with his sister would get due to the negligence of the home: the thing that meant so much to the family, especially her brother—who had spent the last few years serving his country.

"No, I just think he was expecting something different in terms of homecoming," Gertie said softly.

"Oh, but I thought he knew. Didn't his dad leave a while ago to take care of his grandfather upstate?" Priscilla murmured, scooting inside and looking down the hall after Phil.

"Yeah," Gertrude conceded, "but, his sister was supposed look after the place."

"Well, she didn't!" the two women heard from Phil as he came back into the hallway. He picked up the receiver to the phone, raised it to his ear already ready to ask the operator for a connection, but the line was dead. "Looks like she didn't keep the phone connected either..." he grumbled, too tired to slam it on the receiver like he really wanted.

He patted his pockets and sighed, "Either of you girls have change? I'll pay ya back; I just gotta make a few telephone calls. Need to see what's still connected around here." Priscilla, who had stopped to buy a treat when they got off the airplane—her first flight—extended her hand and dropped coins into Phil's palm.

"Don't worry about paying me back. You got me all the way to the States from China."

"Thanks," he said gruffly and walked outside to find a payphone.

He had barely closed the front door behind him when Priscilla decided to explore deeper into the house. Gertrude trailed behind her as Priscilla carried on conversation. She'd rather not make Phil make a check list of everything by himself so she casually started taking inventory in the kitchen and looked through the cupboards. Glasses and plates were still there, though some were chipped. Opening the drawers revealed only a few pieces of silverware.

"Shit..." she muttered.

"Ohp!" Gertrude turned to Priscilla at her small peep noise. Her friendwore a wide, cat-like grin, barely containing further comment, it seemed.

"What?"

"My now," Priscilla drew out. "Sister Madison, such language!" Half annoyed, Gertrude smiled lopsidedly and let out a small chuckle. "Oh, shut up. It was going to happen sooner or later."

Priscilla stuck her pink tongue out past her red lips.

Gertrude yanked on the chrome handle of the old, heavy fridge door and was thankful to find no rotten food. She moved closer, noting that the icebox didn't even feel cold. Closing the door and moving around it the back, she absently continued their conversation

"Nothing in here...If you think I have a mouth now you should have heard me grade school." Oh, it was unplugged. At least the electric bill wouldn't be atrocious. 'Hopefully it still works.'

"Grade school, huh?" Priscilla asked. Her voice sounded farther away than expected. Coming back out from the finding the plug behind the fridge, Gertrude realized she was at the bottom of the stairs and looking to head upwards.

"Yeah," Gertrude laughed, "Phil could attest to that."

They made their way up the carpeted stairs, Priscilla leading with one piece of her luggage, while Gertrude was recruited to carry the hat box. Distracted, the ex-postulant continued talking.

"You grew up here right?" Priscilla didn't open the first door she came to, but waited until she got three or four doors down before she turned a knob.

"Yeah, this place has good memories," Gertrude smiled softly following and almost running into Priscilla as she whirled on her.

"Wait! I meant this town. You mean you grew up in the house?" Gertrude blinked owlishly.

"Well, yeah. I was good friends with Phil and his sister when we were kids. I thought I told you that."

The fox-like grin spread over Sissy's face as she turned and sauntered into a darkened room. The shades were drawn and only a muted amount of sunlight was making its way in. Like a private eye in a detective film, Priscilla snapped the shades open and Gertrude blinked against the offensive change in light.

"You did tell me he asked you to wait for him, but you didn't tell me you've known him for that long. You grew up together? Wait! Did your love promise go back to when you were kids?" she squealed.

Alarmed, a red-faced Gertrude rushed across the room and placed her hand over her friend's mouth. She strained her ears to hear if Phil had come back into the house, but the warm silence of the untouched wooden floorboards and old wallpaper answered them. She felt Priscilla's grin widen beneath her hand and sent her a withering glare.

Gertrude raised her eyebrows in clear demand: "Do not make a fucking sound."

She removed the hand from her friends lips, rubbing her thumb against the spot where her lipstick had left a mark and closed the door.

"Come on," she hissed. "Do I really have to rehash all of this for you?"

"You certainly do," her friend insisted, ignoring her pleading look. Gertrude really, truly didn't want to go over this in her mind again. She knew there were normal explanations for the behavior that followed the cease of communication—Mitzi ignoring the post, not forwarding, her being away, him being away—but that isn't how romance was supposed to work right? He still made a decision that changed the course of their lives, took him away from her.

Gertrude felt selfish; she knew why he did it. Phil wanted to serve his country and make her proud, and he did both, but she also felt abandonment and self doubt curl into her chest when she thought about how he didn't even ask her.

But...

All of that was in the past. Time to move away from those thoughts and figure out which way to take their relationship.

"No," she finally answered Priscilla. "Our promise didn't go back that far. I mean...I always loved him" (oh God, she said that out loud) "But he only ever mentioned our future together as teenagers, and then again right before he left for duty. Sometimes I wonder how serious he is."

Priscilla to her credit remained quiet and her expression didn't convey her usual fox-like amusement. She was listening and absorbing what Gertrude was conveying through her words and body language that betrayed her discomfort, doubt, and hope all in one figure.

"Why don't you just ask him?"

Gertrude groaned and looked heavenward. "It's not that simple."

She flopped onto the old, creaky bed. The rigid mattress she encountered upon doing so brought her immediate regret, as she uttered a surprised "Ow."

Priscilla did not either address or allow her discomfort to derail the direction of their conversation. "Sure it is. You just won't let it be that easy."

Gertrude glared over at her friend who shrugged. Gertie tried to explain.

"We...we have had this history and then radio silence for so long. I don't know how he feels. And he just got back from the War, which I'm sure was hellish and we are living with him, but not with him, so I don't know-"

Gertrude stopped abruptly and flinched away from the sudden stinging pain on her forehead where—she couldn't believe it—Priscilla had just flicked her.

"Ow! What was that for?" she yelped. Priscilla rolled her eyes.

"To snap you out of your own head. You were rambling." Gertrude rubbed her head to alleviate the residual sting. Priscilla continued. "You're going in circles and making this way too complicated," she said, pushing the imaginary obstacles in the air in front of her away with her hands. "You just need to figure out your status, right? Talk to him. Get him alone and communicate."

Gertrude conceded Priscilla was right, it probably could be that simple, but it was scary. She confided that thought to her friend.

"I feel like that would just be so sudden, so fast. We haven't seen each other in years. He acted so..." she rolled her hands at the wrists trying to find a word for the heavy, intense, significant way he looked at her in the room when he found her letters, that he realized the rift between them was a misunderstanding, that her affection had always been there. She finally settled on: "Different."

Priscilla considered this. "Well, feel it out then. Don't just put it on the back burner. If anything, you don't have to ask 'hey, do you still want to be together'. Approach it like normal dating or however you feel comfortable, but you have to address it. You can't just leave it alone. You guys deserve a happy ending."

As her sentence finished, Phil's footfalls came steadily down the hall, and Gertrude reached out and squeezed her friend's hand. The two ladies turned as his knock sounded on the door of the room.

"Oh good, looks like the furniture is all still here. This the room you decided on?"

Priscilla hummed a prolonged, pondering note, then decided, "No, I think I'll take another look around." Phil stepped back from the door jam to let Priscilla pass. He called after her, "Better make a quick decision while the sun is still up. The electricity will get turned on tomorrow." He eyed Gertrude as she made her way to the door as well.

"What about you, Gertie? Figured you'd maybe want Mitzi's old room, I'll take dad's since..." he trailed off, then, "Sound okay?"

The room—Mitzi's old room that she spent many a night in as a child—was larger than most of the others and had a comfortable bed.

"Yeah, sounds good. I'll have to go downstairs and grab my things, then get changed."

"Changed for what?" he asked.

"To clean the house, get it in order."

"Gee, I don't know if I want to do that today. I'm awfully tired and like I said, sun's going down soon."

They heard a call beckoning them to Priscilla.

"Alright," Gertrude agreed, making her way to Priscilla. "That's fine, let's at least find some clean bedding so we can sleep tonight and we can start bright and early tomorrow."

They found Priscilla in a room that held an old stand up piano. Sadly, Gertrude realized, it wasn't the old piano from her and Phil's childhood that was still missing from its place in the living room. "Gertrude! Look at all of this!"

The room didn't look as stagnant as the others. It appeared to have been more recently lived in, judging by the dust, it had been unoccupied just a few months. Gertrude gravitated toward the piano, unconsciously dragging a loving hand along with the light-colored wood. There was still a few music books on top of the stand up style piano. She opened and flipped through one, noting the music on the pages was all hand-written.

Recognizing one of the songs, Gertrude immediately whirled on Phil.

"Who did you say last lived here?" she asked with immense intensity.

"Uh...I didn't," Phil uttered, looking to Priscilla for assistance translate Gertrude's shift in attitude.

"So?" Priscilla prompted, attempting to decipher the pieces of loose leaf in her hand with seemingly random words and rhymes scribbled all over, even in the margins. "Who was it?"

Phil hesitated, trying to remember, eyeing Gertrude as her eyes seemed to double in size.

"I think the last two here were some musicians, rented a room each...Don Reynolds and Dino-o...something."

The mouths of the two women fell open, and Gertude advanced on him. "Dino Spimoni?!" she squealed.

"Yeah!" Phil exclaimed with a snap of his fingers, hearing the familiar name. The girls both expressed their shock as he continued speaking. "That's the guy. Apparently a popular musician or something nowadays."

"A popular musician?" Priscilla exclaimed in disbelief. "Phil, you got to get on the level! This man is only the most popular musician in all of America."

Phil rolled his eyes and gestured for her to hand over the papers, but Priscilla kept them, pulling them close to her chest. "I think you're exaggerating things. In America?"

Gertrude spoke up, still giddy and slightly breathy, but still looking and sounding more rational than Sissy. "She's right, Philly. He's...he's really something. Why, I'd give something almost anything to be able to see him in person."

"I'm staying in this room," Priscilla declared quickly in a clear application of dibs and Gertrude gasped in mock jealousy, then the two shared a giggle.

Phil looked between the two girls, shook his head, and muttered, "Women."

Gertrude stuck out her tongue and Priscilla sniffed, "Just becauseyouhave lived under a rock…what's more—we have been in China for the last two years for Pete's sake."

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Without much further ado once the rooms were decided upon, the trio moved their own belongings into their respective rooms. Priscilla, carefully organized the room she chose, and, knowing how much Gertrude enjoyed Dino's music, kindly shared a few handwritten pages that were more legible than some of the others. Phil dug out some blankets from a linen closet in the downstairs hallways, and proceeded to deliver them to each room. It was still mid-summer, but with their higher latitude in the Pacific Northwest, the night had the potential to get chilly, and he made sure they each had a heavy blanket.

While Phil set to work making his bed up, the heads of Gertrude and Priscilla comically popped through the doorway with a small shave-and-a-haircut knock.

"Hey Philly, we were thinking about what we should do for dinner."

The realization that he hadn't eaten since breakfast caused Phil's stomach to grumble. Taking a look at his pocket watch, he noted the hour was later than he thought.

"Yeah, good point. How about some sandwiches from the deli down the street?"

Sissy popped up, raising her hand as if she were in a classroom, "I'll go get them!"

"You don't have to do that, you don't even know where it is," Phil said.

"Perfect time to get used to my new neighborhood. And don't worry, it's my treat." She stepped away from the crack in the doorway out of sight of Phil where she signaled to Gertrude.

Pointed finger to Gertrude: "You".

Pointed finger at the door: "Phil".

Puppet motion with hand: "Talk"

When Gertrude mouthed multiple "no"s and desperately shook her head, Priscilla mouthed "Do it!" then quipped cutely, "See you guys in a little bit, 'k? By-ye!"

Gertrude felt the sudden compulsion to slap Priscilla when she waved cutely with a piano motion of her fingers.

"Herring if they've got it! They know what I like. Tell 'em it's for the Shortman kid!" he called after her.

"You got it!" Priscilla called from downstairs.

Gertie heard the door close and huffed her bangs out of her eye. I need a haircut, she thought distractedly. She moved to stick her head back through the crack in the door but it opened and she came face to chest with Phil.

She laughed out of shock and nervousness, and he smiled down at her.

Phil felt a sudden urge to move to embrace her, never let her go. She was so close, and she was glowing, laughing, and her eyes were sparkling. She sobered, but returned his smile.

"I was thinking," she said, swaying slightly. "We can eat in the living room. It's getting dark and without the electricity, we can light a fire."

His smile widened. "Sounds perfect. I'll go grab some wood from the crates in the back."

"I'll move the furniture and grab a blanket so we can sit on the floor like old times."

Gertrude then fled downstairs. She was truly happy to be with him, but she felt like she was struggling under invisible force of pressure, she needed a breath. Gertrude instinctually felt the need to normalize with a memory she had of a crackling fire in the hearth like when they were kids. She figured he would appreciate it too. Coming back to an empty home probably was less than pleasant when you expected a warm welcome, tenants, and a thriving income from your boarding house. An empty one showed just how much everything had changed and an uphill struggle he frankly didn't deserve, especially considering what she understood had been a promise from Mitzy to keep the old place going. Hopefully they would be able to get things back to the way they had been, or close at the very least.

Gertrude went into the old coat closet in the downstairs hallways in search of a broom and dustpan. She was sure both the hearth and the floor of the living room would be either dusty, sooty, or even both. What she came across was a broom and a few boxes carefully stacked boxes. She popped them open and found some old oil lamps.

Well, that's nifty. No need for electricity. Good thing, too, since won't have it until at least tomorrow.

She heard the back door open and close, signaling Phil going outside to grab firewood.

Once in the living room, she took the liberty of pushing all the furniture into the hallway to get her sweeping underway. Thankful for the limited amount of filth, the work didn't take her long. She had the floor relatively clean, save for the mopping it desperately needed, and blanket spread by the time Phil came in with an armload of log.

"At least the wood is dry and we've got today's paper as kindling." As he made a teepee of wood in the hearth, Gertrude set herself to work taking full pages of the paper, rolling them and tying them in knots. She absently handed them to Phil, who casually watched her face with interest. She had a small smile on her face and her body seemed relaxed, but her eyes were alight with excitement. Phil wondered what she was thinking.

He struck a match, lighting a few pieces of the newspaper and finally throwing in the match once it burned down to almost his thumb. The fire grew quickly enough, and soon it was crackling happily in the fireplace. The room heated fairly quickly, though since the house was empty and the nights had recently been chilly, the heat seemed to leak from the edges of the room. Phil settled contentedly in front in front of the fire, and Gertrude followed his lead.

"I'm glad we've got a fire going," Gertrude commented. "I love the smell of a cozy, live-in home."

Phil hummed in agreement, unfolding his legs to stretch in front of him and rest back on his hands. Gertrude glanced at him from the corner of her eye, judging his reaction. It didn't seem removed or dismissive, but she felt weird that he wasn't saying anything more. Maybe she was overthinking it; her mind and body were starting to react to the exhaustion setting in after the trip, feeling it around her eyes, but then she thought of the prospect of living with Phil—while not remotely the same as living together, especially with Sissy in the house—sans imminent, looming war or want for money, not one obstacle in order for them to recognize their relationship and move forward. That sent a jolt of excitement straight through her chest, and it tingled all the way to the tips of her toes and fingers. Suddenly, Gertrude didn't feel so tired anymore. Her heart pounded and her breathing became shallow as she rode her newfound adrenaline rush. Raising her face, Gertrude took a deep determine breath...and promptly jumped out of her skin when the front door slammed open.

"Oops," she heard from the foyer. Gertrude's dark-haired friend, laden with paper bags cradled in both arms and handbag pushed up to her elbow, stumbled into the house. Phil popped up and headed toward the door, and Gertrude followed his lead. His long legs carried him quickly to where Priscilla was struggling to kick the door closed.

"Thanks," Sissy breathed, readjusting her grip on one bag as Gertrude took the other. "Let's go put these in the kitchen."

"Nah," Phil said, "Let's just take 'em in the living room and eat 'em up picnic style."

"Sounds fun! Phil, I got us some Coca-Colas while I was out, but I didn't even think about a bottle opener. Do you have one?"

"Yep, should have one in the kitchen; if not, I can pop em open. I'll go get it while you gals get settled."

Once the girls were both seated on the blanket, Sissy folded her legs to the side and leaned toward Gertrude who was pulling out the curvy glass bottles of soda.

"Anything?" she whispered, grinning when Gertrude reacted with a small scowl and blush.

"Of course not, you were gone for barely 20 minutes. I don't know how fast you move, but-"

"What's this about moving fast?" Phil's voice boomed with surprise from the foyer. He waved the bottle opener to them. "Found it."

Priscilla casually answered, "Oh, Gertie was just giving me a hard time because I already came home with a number." She reached into her purse and produced a scrap of paper with a phone number scrawled across in neat, rather large writing.

"Zat so? Well, no offense, Priscilla, not saying she's right or anything, but that might be the fastest I've ever seen," he laughed. Priscilla giggled and flourished her hair, milking the role of conceited bombshell role good-naturedly, which erased the sourness from Gertrude and earned Priscilla a chortle.

"Well, I just don't know what to do with myself. For some reason men just seem to flock to me wherever I go." Gertrude raised a brow at the accent Sissy had taken on in attempt the affect of a coy southern bell. Gertrude scoffed rudely through her lips at the caricature. Phil seemed to enjoy doing the bit, and kept it going.

"Yeah, guess it's a good thing you decided to jump ship with Gertie. Think of all broken hearts."

"Oh, spare me," Gertrude deadpanned, taking the bottle opener from Phil and popping the top off her soda with a hiss. She did the same with Sissy's before passing it to her. "So, who's number is it?"

"The man at the deli," she said casually, eyeballing the wrapped sandwiches with undisguised hunger as Phil unearthed them from the deep brown bag.

"Not Roger?" Phil asked incredulously, handing Sissy her sandwich. Her cobalt eyes got wide and face opened up, recognizing the name.

"Yes, that was him! How'd you know?"

"You told them the herring sandwich was for the Shortman kid, and they knew who you were talking about, right?"

"Yes, they did. I just thought maybe you were a regular."

Gertrude unwrapped her food, "He is and has been since we were kids. That deli's been there for a long time. It's kind of a staple in the neighborhood. Roger, the guy you met, was a year or two ahead of us in age. We all grew up together. Always picked him for my stickball team. Real good shortstop."

"Oh stop, you playing stickball all together as kids? That's adorable."

"Yeah, if you count me catching in a skirt, legs all wide for the whole neighborhood to see as adorable. Anyway, Rog is oldest son of the couple that opened the place, and he always talked about taking over the business. Good to see he got what he wanted."

Phil unwrapped his sandwich as well, and the smell of fish wafted into the room. Gertrude felt a wave of nostalgia hit her with the talk and the scent of memories.

"What'd you tell him when he gave you his number?" Phil asked.

"Well, he actually first says he wants to call me. I says to him I'm new in town and still getting to know my way around, but I'll consider a date after getting settled if he made sure your sandwich was just the way you wanted it," Priscilla answered, beginning to unconsciously fall into her less formal speech pattern to tell her short story as she began to relax with good food and good friends.

Gertrude smirked and asked, "Does he know you're not Jewish?" before taking a bite of her food. Priscilla's tinkling laughter rang out and she answered, "Not sure. Guess we'll find out on the first date, well, depending on whether Phil gives the 'okay'. How is it, Philly?"

Phil, who had taken a substantial bite out of his herring sandwich and was doing all he could not to groan in pleasure around his mouthful of food, could only give a thumbs up.

"Well, here's hoping he doesn't have a problem dating a Gentile woman," Gertrude laughed, raising her bottle to clink it with Priscilla's.

Thank you again for reading. Hope you enjoy it!