names like Nelson Rockefeller, Adlai Stevenson, and the impossibly handsome senator from Massachusetts, John Kennedy, saying we’d met these movers and shakers at various parties and events, though we were lucky if we knew someone who knew someone who’d met them.
For those of us who’d go back to our hometowns, the night before Thanksgiving always meant a big meet-up at a local bar. The old high school crowd would gather over cocktails and we’d wear our best heels and our softest cashmere and make sure our hair was done and that we had no lipstick on our teeth. Forgetting their wedding rings, the popular boys who’d ignored us in high school would tell us how great it was to see us and that we should come home more often. In D.C., we were part of the throngs of government gals, but in our hometowns, we’d made it.
We’d say our goodbyes to our old classmates with a “See ya next year” and go home, slightly tipsy, to at least one of our parents who’d tried waiting up for us but had fallen asleep on the couch. The next day, we’d cook turkey, then eat turkey, then nap, then eat more turkey, then nap again. It was good to be home, we’d tell our aunts and uncles and cousins. But within two days we’d be back on the bus or train to D.C., a turkey sandwich packed in our pocketbook.
* * *
—
When we returned the Monday after this particular Thanksgiving, we’d forgotten about Irina and were surprised to see her sitting at Tabitha’s old desk. We were polite, asking what she’d done over the holiday, and she told us that she and her mother didn’t really celebrate Thanksgiving, but that she had picked up two Swanson turkey dinners, and that they were surprisingly good. “My mother ate half my peas and mashed potatoes when I got up to get another glass of wine,” she said. We hadn’t known Irina lived with her mother. And before we could ask any more questions, Anderson came by with bundles of paperwork. “Christmas came early, girls,” he said.
We moaned. We envied our counterparts on Capitol Hill, who enjoyed long breaks when Congress wasn’t in session. We had no such luck; the Agency never slept.
“Lotta work to catch up on, girls. Let’s hop to it, huh?”
“Lotta stuffing you ate last week, huh?” Gail muttered when Anderson walked away.
We eventually got back to work, and the rest of the morning dragged. By eleven, we were already on our fifth cigarette and looking at the clock. By noon, we were practically jumping out of our chair for lunch. Most of us had leftover turkey sandwiches, and Kathy had brought a Thermos of turkey noodle soup. But it was just one of those days when we had to get out of the office. The first day back from vacation, even a short one, was always the worst.
Linda stood first and cracked her knuckles. “Cafeteria?”
“Really?” asked Norma.
“Hot Shoppes?” Norma suggested. “I could go for an Orange Freeze.”
“Too cold out,” Judy said.
“Too far,” said Kathy.
“La Niçoise?” Linda suggested.
“Not everyone has the luxury of a husband’s salary,” Gail said.
We looked at each other and said it together: “Ralph’s?”
Not only did Ralph’s serve the best damn doughnuts in the District, it also had the most delicious French fries, and ketchup that was made in-house. Plus, the men never lunched there. They preferred the Old Ebbitt Grill, where they could feast on oysters and drink their fill of ten-cent martinis. Sometimes the men would invite us if they were feeling generous or amorous or both. They’d order trays of oysters and rounds of martinis for the table, even though Kathy had a shellfish allergy and Judy refused to eat anything hauled out of the ocean.
We asked Irina if she wanted to join us, because she was finally talking and we wanted to keep her talking. To our surprise, she agreed, even though we’d seen her put a sandwich in the break room fridge that morning.
On our way out, Teddy Helms and Henry Rennet were coming in. We liked Teddy, but Henry was another matter. The men at the Agency thought we were just sitting in the corner typing away quietly. But we weren’t just taking memos—we were also taking names. And Henry’s was at the top of our list. Why Teddy and Henry were friends, we hadn’t a clue. Henry was the kind of man whose confidence, not his looks, got him much