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Linda McEwan Rogers, Class of '42, had survived her older brother and the war. She had apparently found a home in nearby Bremerton as the wife of naval aviator James Rogers. Grace's one-time friend, sorority sister, and rival for Joel's affections had begun the postwar era by teaching math and science in the city's public schools.

Grace also found information on several other classmates, including Paula Caldecott, a fellow education major who had nearly blown Grace's cover on a date with Joel, and Betty DeConcini, a sorority sister who had. Each had married Army officers and had settled in Tacoma.

Grace did not find information on Virginia Gillette, Katherine Kobayashi, or even Joel. She considered the possibility that Joel had fibbed when he had said that he had never spent a day in college. She considered the possibility that he might be a current student at
this
university, but she could not find proof to support that theory and, after two hours, decided to seek assistance.

If there was one thing that working in a library had taught Grace, it's that reference librarians were top-notch investigators. They found answers to questions that eluded mere mortals and usually did so quickly. They were gateways to information she needed.

Grace gathered her notes on Tom, Paul, and Linda and put the magazines away. Five minutes later she entered the reference section and approached a librarian sitting behind a desk. The woman, who appeared to be in her late twenties, wore dark glasses, tattoos, and a nose ring.

"How can I help you?" the librarian asked.

She straightened her posture and repositioned a lanyard draped around her neck. The lanyard supported a plastic-coated badge bearing the name Jennifer.

"I'm looking for information, particularly contact information, on two women who attended the university in between 1938 and 1942 and a young man who may have attended it recently."

"Have you checked the alumni magazines and phone directories?"

"I have," Grace said.

"Are you certain that the women went to this school during those years?"

I am. They were my housemates.

"I'm certain."

"Is it possible that they are deceased?"

Grace lowered her eyes. It most certainly was possible. Ginny and Katie would each be eighty. That was a lot of life even for the most healthy and spirited women.

"I suppose it is."

"What are their names and what can you tell me about them?"

Grace handed the librarian two slips of paper.

"I've written their names and a little about what they did when they went to school here. I know it's not much to go on, but it's all I have."

Jennifer took the slips and gave each a look.

"It's plenty," she said. "I should be able to find something."

"Thank you."

"How about the young man? What can you tell me about him?"

"I know only his name and that he lives in Seattle," Grace said, wondering, and not for the first time, whether Joel had been honest even about his name and town. "His name is Joel Smith. I believe he is about twenty-two years old."

The librarian jotted down the information on a third piece of paper and attached it to the other two with a paper clip. She looked at her watch, peeled a slip from the top of a small yellow pad, and affixed it to the stack. The slip apparently came with its own adhesive.

"The biggest problem I see, assuming that the women are still alive, is that they are likely using married names. They may have also moved beyond the Seattle area. If they have, then this search might take some time. The alumni office has the addresses and phone numbers of all graduates but won't release them without the written permission of the graduates."

Grace frowned and lowered her eyes. Joel could be a mile away. He could be in the next room. But until she learned more about him, he might as well be on the moon.

"I don't mean to discourage you, Miss . . ."

"Vandenberg. Grace Vandenberg."

"I don't mean to discourage you. This will be a challenge, but I like challenges. I'll work on this over the weekend, if need be. Unless these people are living in a cave, I'll find them. I will need a way to contact you though."

Grace tried to think of Penelope's number but couldn't. So she wrote down a street address that she now knew by heart. She gave the address to the librarian.

"I'll send you what I find, Grace. One way or another, we'll get this done."

Grace beamed. She didn't know if she approved of the tattoo or the nose ring, but she definitely liked this lady's style. She finally had some help – good help. All she had to do now was wait.

CHAPTER 13: GRACE

Monday, June 12, 2000

Grace stepped out of Penelope's house and walked west along Fifty-Second Street. She hated leaving the woman alone. She loved her company, in fact. But after spending all day in the house cooking and cleaning, she decided that she needed to stretch her legs and see a few sights that she had not yet seen on her millennial tour of Seattle. So she did the dinner dishes and left.

She felt less self-conscious than she had on previous walks, in part because she looked less like an extra in a forties movie and more like a contemporary college woman. She had a modern wardrobe now, thanks to two of Penelope's neighbors, recent graduates that Grace had met while watching them move out of their rental house. The coeds had planned to donate two boxes of old clothes to a thrift shop but gave them to Grace when she had asked if she could buy them.

Wearing a short-sleeved top and a blue skirt, Grace walked a few blocks toward University Way Northeast, which was still called the Ave. She stopped in front of a vacant lot that featured tall weeds and a cement foundation but not a lot more.

Penelope had told Grace at dinner that a fire a few months earlier had claimed a two-bedroom residence that had once been the envy of the neighborhood. Penelope had known the house as the home of a good friend, who had been away for the weekend when her Christmas tree had caught fire and taken the house with it.

Grace knew the place as something else. It was the house Joel and Tom had rented in the fall of 1941, the house Grace had visited one cold Thanksgiving night when she had first given her love to a man she had decided she could not live without.

She paused to think about that incredible night and about the world she had so recently given up. She missed Aunt Edith. She missed Ginny and Katie. She missed the familiar trappings of a simpler time. But she missed Joel Smith more, a lot more, and she vowed that her attempt to find him would not be in vain.

She turned north along the Ave, a major north-south arterial of the university district, and soon encountered another familiar landmark: the Mad Dog. From the outside, the celebrated tavern looked much like the place she had visited a few times with Joel in 1941.

From the inside, it looked much more modern. Grace saw updated signs, brighter lighting, and large televisions that hung from the ceiling in strategic locations. She also heard music but could not locate its source. The console radios and jukeboxes she recalled had been replaced by vending machines. Within a minute, a waitress led her to a small table near the back.

Grace ordered a glass of red wine from a wine menu that looked like a food menu. She could not believe the choices that were available to her, as a consumer, in 2000. Then again, she could not believe a lot of things about this mysterious time.

When the waitress returned with her order, Grace gave her five one-dollar bills and settled into a surprisingly comfortable wooden chair. She observed the dozen or so people around her and noticed that most looked happy. A few talked about their summer plans. One announced a new job. Then Grace turned to her right and saw a woman in a booth that did not look happy. In fact, she looked downright distressed.

"Is something wrong?" Grace asked. "You seem upset."

"It must be the tears," the woman said with a laugh. "They're always the first clue."

Grace pulled a rough paper napkin from a dispenser at her table and offered it to the woman.

"Take this. It's not a tissue, but it will help."

"Thanks."

"Do you mind if I join you?" Grace asked.

"Feel free. No one else seems to want to tonight."

Grace grabbed her glass, left her table, and slid into the booth's empty seat. She nudged a nearly empty pitcher of beer to the side, eyed her new acquaintance, and stuck out a hand.

"I'm Grace. It's nice to meet you."

The woman, who appeared to be in her early twenties, was pretty. She had long brown hair, amber eyes, and olive skin that suggested a recent trip to the tropics. Like Grace, she wore a white blouse and a denim skirt. She wiped her eyes with the napkin and then took Grace's hand.

"I'm Jana. Jana Lamoreaux."

"I'm sorry to see you so sad, Jana. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Sure. You can go fetch my boyfriend and knock some sense into him. I think he dumped me tonight, and I don't know why."

Grace offered a reassuring smile.

"I know this is probably no comfort to you, but I can relate. My boyfriend dumped
me
two weeks ago and
I
don't know why. I've come here to look for him."

"Let me guess," Jana said. "He said he had a lot of thinking to do and needed time alone to find some answers."

"No," Grace said. "He just ran off."

Jana laughed.

"Well, I guess you do have it worse than me. There's still a chance my boyfriend might come back, but I doubt he will. We dated for two years. I thought we had something special, but now I see it was all an illusion."

"Why do you say that?"

"I say it because it's probably true. He's been very distant the past couple of weeks. He's said the right things and done the right things, but he's said and done them with little enthusiasm. He hasn't been the same since he went on a trip to Yellowstone with his buddy."

"Is he a student?"

"He is, or was. Like me, he graduated yesterday."

"Maybe he's nervous about entering the real world. I'd give him a little more time. I'm sure he'll come around. He probably just needs a few days to think about his future."

"You may be right," Jana said, "but I don't think so. He's pretty well off. His family is loaded and he has a lot of friends in important places. I would be shocked if he doesn't find a good job by the end of the summer. I think the problem lies elsewhere."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't prove it, but I think he met someone on his trip. I think he's found someone else."

CHAPTER 14: GRACE

When Grace returned to Penelope's house, she found her host reading the newspaper and drinking decaffeinated tea at the dining room table. Several envelopes, including a few that had been opened, cluttered a space at her side.

"Did you have a nice walk?"

"I did," Grace answered. "It's such a beautiful evening. I just couldn't pass it up."

"There's no need to explain yourself, dear. Lovely young women like you shouldn't be cooped up with boring old women like me."

"You're not boring."

"Oh, yes I am. But that's all right. I've had a long, not-so-boring life.

Grace laughed.

"Where did you go?" Penelope asked.

"I walked around the neighborhood and ended up at the Mad Dog."

"Please tell me you had an interesting encounter with a handsome man."

"No," Grace said. "I had an interesting encounter with a pretty woman. She was very sad and needed some comfort. Her boyfriend had just left her."

Penelope shook her head.

"I've seen a lot of that through the years. Once the boys get their college degrees, they don't think they need the girls who have supported them. They head off into the big blue world for something better, but it's rarely better. Just more expensive."

Grace laughed again. She wondered whether it were possible to bottle Penelope's wit and wisdom. It would probably fetch a fair price at market.

"In any case, I think she's better. I told her that I had had a similar experience. I think misery really does like company. She was smiling when I left."

"Good," Penelope said. "That's good. She'll be fine, just as I'm sure that you'll be fine. Women today are strong. They adapt better to setbacks. Have you had any luck tracking down your elusive young man?"

"No. But I remain hopeful that I'll find him."

Penelope smiled weakly and then frowned. She stirred her tea and pushed the paper aside.

"I'm sure that you will. But that brings me to something I've been meaning to talk to you about for a few days."

"What's that?" Grace asked.

"Your future. My daughter and son-in-law will return on Wednesday and again be able to take care of most of my needs. But I want you to know that you're welcome to stay here as long as you wish. I want you to find your beau – or at least find a job and a place of your own."

"Thank you. I think I'll find him soon, or at least something soon, but if I don't I'd be happy to stay here a little longer. I do enjoy your company, and I don't mind at all helping out. It's the least I can do for someone who's been so kind to me."

Penelope smiled and grabbed Grace's hand.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you that something came in the mail for you today. It's from the university library. It's right here."

Penelope handed Grace a manila envelope. It was thick, as if stuffed full of papers.

Grace's heart beat a little faster as she eyed the corner of the envelope and saw the name Jennifer Prescott written above the return address. The woman who had offered to help her had found something. The only question was what.

Grace opened the envelope and removed several letter-size sheets of paper. She glanced first at a note Jennifer had written on library stationery.

"Here is what I found," the librarian wrote. "Sorry I could not find more."

Grace examined eight more sheets and frowned. They were photocopies of pages from local phone directories, a comprehensive listing of all the J. Smiths in the Puget Sound area. She had already covered this ground and had personally called all eleven of the listed Joel Smiths. None had admitted to breaking her heart or traveling through time in the past month.