Velma rolled and opened her eyes. Ah, yes, one of Sherman’s
“baby” pictures on the bedside table stared back at her. She’d known the scamp, enjoyed his company. His passing had been a surprise to her, and clearly a shock to Scarlett. She talked about him more now that he was gone, and Velma wondered if her friend was okay. The other spinsters back at the rooming house had assumed Sherman was Scarlett’s husband, suddenly lost, perhaps in the Occupations. At the time Velma had thought Scarlett was just being impish to let them believe so. Now……
Pushing her head under a pillow, Velma moved her feet to a cold spot and back. Such an indulgence, lying in bed, seemed again to be brought on by being with Scarlett. Perhaps it was the sheer exhaustion that she invoked; could Velma stand up against the exhaustion if Scarlett retired to the country, as they discussed last night?
Velma pondered, turned from the window, and drowsed, dreaming of Sherman.