10
Spilling the Beans
29 August 1943
Iris absently doodled in her sketchpad, intending a new design, but it became a gorgeous pair of eyes. His eyes. The Savior’s. Her Savior’s. Pee-Et-Ro. “You fool.” She chastised herself harshly. She certainly wasn’t looking for a man, any man, to step in the way of her new career. And a prisoner? It was laughable. Must be the feces exposure making her prematurely senile. Ha! And she thought she was immune.
Immune to love? Perhaps not. Don’t be stupid, Iris. She could always count on her mother’s voice to keep her straight. Sadly.
A career was all she needed. All she’d ever wanted. The letter that she had all but forgotten, because of those fathomless eyes, ignited a new hole in her pocket. She needed to design fashions or elaborate Hollywood costum
