“I guess I do. Then again, I wouldn’t have any occasion to wear something like that.”

  Rosalie nudged her playfully. “That’s because you’re a shut-in.”

  “I am no such thing.”

  “In the past month, how many times have you left your room, other than to eat or go to work?”

  Nora frowned, knowing she was beat. “Several.”

  “Only because we made you,” Betty said.

  “And when are you going to let Del take you on a proper date? The guy’s crazy about you.”

  “H-he is not,” Nora spluttered. “He’s a good friend.”

  “A good friend who’d like to be a lot more,” Rosalie muttered.

  “You’re reading too much into it.” Nora blushed to the roots of her blond hair.

  Betty and Rosalie closed ranks, standing side-by-side with their arms crossed.

  She needed to redirect this conversation. “You two are boy-crazy. That’s all there is to it. It’s all you think about.”

  “You have to be one of the densest women I’ve ever met. That boy drops hints everywhere and follows you around like a puppy dog. The only reason he doesn’t make a move is because he knows he’ll send you running for the hills.”

  “So, instead he bides his time,” Betty finished for Rosalie. “Haven’t you ever had a boyfriend before?”

  “She probably hasn’t, if she can’t even figure out when a boy is sweet on her.”

  Nora felt like she’d been ambushed. “Whenever you two are through, let me know.”

  “Aw. Don’t be sore.” Rosalie looked contrite. “We only want you to be happy.”

  “I don’t need your help, thank you very much.”

  “Are you…ladies…” The saleswoman gave them a disgusted once-over. “…planning to buy something?”

  Nora, already feeling off-balance, snapped, “We might have, if you—”

  Rosalie stepped in front of her. “How much is this hat?”

  “Can’t you read the label?”

  Nora couldn’t believe her ears. Never had a salesperson treated her so rudely. Again, Rosalie intervened. “I must’ve left my glasses in my other purse.”

  The salesperson told her the price.

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Don’t—”

  This time Betty took Nora by the hand and pulled her away. “Come look at the stockings with me.”

  “What are you doing?” Nora whispered harshly. “That woman was insufferable.”

  “You’re right. Folks here in Knoxville take one look at our muddy shoes and know where we’ve come from. They think we’re all Yankees and they despise us.”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “That’s a fact.”

  “But Rosalie’s from right here in Tennessee.”

  “What’s your point? She’s not from East Tennessee, and that makes all the difference.” Betty selected a pair of Rayon stockings. “Have I mentioned how much I hate Rayon? Nylons have spoiled me for life. Rayon sags at the knees.”

  “Our boys need all the nylon for parachutes. I’d rather they be safe than my hose not sag.”

  “Ever-practical Nora,” Betty said as Rosalie rejoined them.

  “In this case, you’re right. It’s why I plan to buy some slacks.”

  “Oh, that’ll certainly make you a rebel.”

  Nora scoffed. “Me? A rebel? Hardly. I’m living up to my reputation for practicality. I’m going to buy a pair of saddle shoes too. I’m tired of losing heels in the mud.”

  “Me too,” Betty said.

  They finished shopping and stopped at a restaurant near the bus depot for dinner. “Tell us about you, Nora. I feel like I don’t know anything about you. You’re so shy. It’s hard to figure you out.” Betty twirled a helping of spaghetti with her fork.

  “I’m not shy.” She blushed again.

  “See? You’re blushing. You are shy.”

  “I think it’s more that she’s introverted.”

  “If I could crawl under this table right now, I would.”

  “Case closed. You’ve proven our point.”

  Nora squirmed. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything,” both women said at once.

  Nora set down her fork. “My parents emigrated to the United States from Sweden before I was born. My father is a shop owner in Greenwich, Connecticut. I have a brother six years younger than I am. He’s…” Nora considered what to say about Bill that wouldn’t sound terrible. “We’re polar opposites.”

  Rosalie shook her head. “That’s all interesting, sugar, but I want to know about you—Nora Lindstrom—not your family. Tell us something that would surprise us about you.”

  Nora’s eyebrows rose into her hairline. “I don’t have any surprises. I guess I’m a boring person.”

  “Nonsense,” Betty said. “Didn’t I hear someone say you were a doctor?”

  “I’m not a medical doctor. I’ve got a Ph.D. in physics.”

  “See?” Rosalie talked around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “That right there is fascinating. What made you want to be a scientist?”

  Nora smiled. “I was always captivated by how things worked—the mechanics of time and space, atoms—all of it, really. The first time I swam in the ocean and my body floated without effort, I needed to understand why. I craved the knowledge.” She shrugged. “I guess you could say it was curiosity that made me pursue science.”

  “I was curious about the world too,” Rosalie said. “Usually, that curiosity landed me in hot water with either my parents or the principal.”

  “I can see that,” Nora said. She liked Rosalie. She was different from all the other girls Nora knew. She didn’t care about status, level of education, or money. She only wanted to know if you were a good person.

  “We’d better get going or we’re going to miss the bus,” Betty said.

  When she was safely back in her room, Nora pulled out her journal.

  Dear Diary,

  Today, I took the bus to Knoxville, the largest city around these parts (now I’m starting to talk like a local). My friends Rosalie and Betty came along, which made the outing more fun. Friends…such a foreign concept for me. Except for Anna, I’ve never really had any good friends. It seems odd at this point in my life that I should find some, and so far from home and my experiences.

  Speaking of Anna, I had cause to think of her today. Rosalie and Betty were razzing me about a boy. He’s another scientist I’ve told you about before, my friend, Del. The girls insist he likes me, and not as a friend, but as a potential girlfriend. I tried to pooh-pooh the idea, but if I’m going to be honest about it, I suspect they’re probably right. He’s a nice guy and a gentleman, unlike so many of the boys I’ve met here and elsewhere. But I’m just not interested in him, or in any other boys for that matter.

  Dear diary, is there something wrong with me that it’s Anna that makes my heart race and not Del? I fear that there might be.

  Well, enough of all that. Things are ramping up here. I can’t say much about it except to say that the real work is commencing and I’m praying we’re up to the task.

  More soon, dear diary.

  Faithfully yours,

  Nora

  Mary folded her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. She’d never seen anything like this place. She made note of the barbed wire fencing, the guard tower, the gates, and the very obvious military presence. Then there were the signs warning of the need for absolutely secrecy. Even if she had trouble making out the words, the message in the pictures was crystal clear. When the soldiers searched the bus and scrutinized her visitor’s pass, she wanted to run, even though she knew she’d done nothing wrong.

  At the bus depot, men and women of every size and shape disembarked from a sea of buses advertising odd destinations like Y-12, K-25, and X-10.

  She leaned over and whispered to Louise, “What are those places?”

  “Don’t ask questions.”

  Mary checked to see if Louise was kidding, but her expression was dead serious. They disembarked. “Where are we going?”

  “The Castle on the Hill.”

  “There’s a castle? In the middle of nowhere?”

  “It’s the administration building. That’s where you’ll have your interview.” Louise picked up the pace. “Like I said, don’t ask questions. Answer whatever they ask you directly. Make sure you emphasize that you can keep a secret. There are spies everywhere in here, so don’t let your guard down, ever. If you get hired, people will try to get you to slip up. They’ll ask what you do here. Tell them this and that.”

  “But I thought you said I was supposed to answer directly?”

  “That’s just during the interview. Tell them where you went to school, what your skills are, that kind of thing.”

  Mary’s stomach flipped. This was going to be a lot harder than she thought.

  They arrived at the building and Louise led Mary to the reception desk and checked her in for her interview. “I’ve got to go to work. Wait here and they’ll call you when they’re ready.” She kissed her on the cheek. “Good luck. You’ll be fine.”

  Mary sat in one of the nearby chairs. She didn’t feel at all as though she’d be fine. When Louise had said they were hiring for the war effort, she should’ve asked more questions. You should’ve thought this through. What if you’re not qualified? What if you don’t want to do whatever the job is? Are you going to run back home with your tail between your legs? This is crazy.

  By the time a girl not much older than her called her name, her mood had plummeted. She had fairly convinced herself that a full-time job at Meyer’s wasn’t so bad after all.

  “You’ll be interviewing with Mr. Knutsen in personnel. He’s right around the corner.” They took a left. “Here we are. Have a seat. He’ll be right with you.”

  “Thank you.” The office was drab and unremarkable. There were no personal items, such as family photos.

  “Hello.”

  Mary’s hand flew to her heart. She jumped to her feet and turned to see a balding, middle-aged man in a crumpled business suit standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry. You startled me.”

  “I apologize. Please, sit down. I’m Mr. Knutsen, I’ll be conducting your preliminary interview.”

  “I’m Mary Trask.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mary.”

  He pulled a pen and a folder from his desk drawer. “Let’s start with your personal history. Where is home for you?”

  “I hope here, sir.” She thought perhaps he would smile, but he remained stoic.

  “And before that?”

  “Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, sir.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Eighteen, sir.”

  “Do you have a high school diploma?”

  “I do.”

  “Any prior work experience?”

  She told him about her employment at Meyer’s and her responsibilities.

  “Very well. Do you know shorthand and do you take dictation?”

  “No, sir.” Mary bit her lip. Would that count against her?

  He made a notation in the folder. “How is your eyesight? I see that you don’t wear glasses.”

  “Oh, I see perfectly, sir. Nothing wrong with my eyes. I’m observant too.” Mary wasn’t sure why she added the last, and she wished she could take it back. Answer the questions directly, Mary Elizabeth. Don’t offer things that aren’t asked.

  “That’s good. Do you have any disabilities?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean, sir.” Mary squirmed. She had trouble reading and writing and needed to be extra careful and take lots of time with those skills, but those weren’t disabilities.

  “Do you have any trouble with your back, your hands, or your neck? Is there any reason you can’t sit for long periods of time, or turn dials, pull levers, or twist knobs?”

  “No, sir. I’m the picture of health.”

  “Good.” He reached into his drawer and pulled out another folder. “I’ve got a short, written test here for you to take.”

  Panic welled up, choking off Mary’s airway. “I-I’m not very good at written tests, sir.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You said you graduated high school, correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You can read and write?”

  Mary heard buzzing in her ears. “Y-yes sir, but I’m much, much better at verbal and visual tests.”

  “I see.” He tapped his pen thoughtfully on the desk. “Stay here, please. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  When he’d gone, Mary’s shoulders slumped. You’re doomed. Doomed. If only she had an easier time reading. It wasn’t that she didn’t try, or even that she didn’t enjoy reading. She loved stories.

  Several minutes passed, and then Mr. Knutsen returned with another man in tow. This gentleman was nattily dressed, fit, and much younger.

  “Hello, Mary. I’m Mr. Edwards. Mr. Knutsen and I have talked it over and think we have a better way to test your aptitude. If you’ll come with me, I’m going to show you a machine and tell you how to work it. That will help us determine if you’re suited for the job we have in mind for you. Does that sound okay?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  They passed a classroom humming with activity. Girls sat on stools in front of massive panels. On the panels were meters, gauges, knobs, and dials. Mary knew her mouth was hanging open. What were these things?

  Mr. Edwards led her into another room and sat her in front of a single similar machine. “Okay, Mary. I’m going to give you some instructions. Let’s see how well you can retain the information and apply it.”

  Mary sat on the stool and did her best to get comfortable. Although she could hear the din from the classroom next door, she shut out everything except for the sound of Mr. Edwards’s voice. When he was done explaining the task to her, she repeated the instructions back to him.

  “Now, apply that to the panels in front of you.”

  Mary did as she was told.

  Roughly twenty minutes later, Mr. Edwards said, “That’s enough.”

  “I can do this longer, and I know in time I’ll get better at it.”

  “Actually, you did quite well. I’m impressed, and I’m not easily impressed.”

  Mary smiled from ear to ear. “Does that mean you want to hire me?”

  “One more thing. I know you told Mr. Knutsen that you had trouble with reading and writing. How are you with recording numbers on a log sheet?”

  “Oh, I can do that, sir. It’s just words that are tough.”

  “Show me.” He produced a clipboard with a sheet of paper on it. “Write down the readings on those dials.” He pointed to the left-side panel on the machine in front of her.

  Carefully, she wrote down the figures. “Is this what you wanted?”

  “Yes, it is. Very good, Mary.”

  “Now does this mean you want to hire me?”

  “I do believe it does.”

  “When can I start? Do I have a job title? Where will I live?”

  Mr. Edwards held up a hand. “Hold your horses. First, we’ll get you to a clerk so that you can get an ID badge and a Townsite Resident Pass. Then you’ll go to housing and they’ll try to find you an open dorm room. A single room rents for fifteen dollars per month. A shared double room rents for ten dollars per occupant. The job is called a cubicle operator, and you’ll have to spend some time in the bullpen and at orientation before you can get cleared to work in the plant.”

  “Bullpen?”

  “Think of it as a holding area where you get trained while you wait for clearance to start your regular assignment.”

  Clearance? Suddenly, dread filled her. “They’re not going to call my mother to check up on me, are they?”

  The question surprised a laugh out of Mr. Edwards. “You’re eighteen, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then no, they’re not going to call your mother.”

  “Good.” She breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe coming here was the right decision after all.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Nora pinched the bridge of her nose, where yet another tension headache was taking up residence. She held the phone to her ear with the other hand. “We cannot continue on this way. Every day at Alpha-1, on multiple shifts, we’ve got equipment failures. The machines are shorting out and shutting down; the needles are going haywire… Respectfully, sir, it’s not my girls that are the weak link. I’ve sat down at the cubicle and gotten the same results. There’s something wrong in the design. It’s not my job to figure out what that is, but if someone doesn’t figure it out soon, we’ll all be wasting our time here.”

  “I understand your frustration. Do the best you can. Try to keep morale up. We’re working on solutions over here. I’m sending a couple of my assistants back to help you. General Groves and I are in close contact about the situation.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Lawrence. I appreciate your assistance with this.”

  “And I appreciate your honesty and your discretion. It’s the reason I made sure your clearance was at the highest level. I’ll be in touch.”

  Nora hung up the phone. Dr. Lawrence had thanked her for her discretion. Presumably, even though she hadn’t said as much, he surmised that she’d examined the entire process. He would have been right.

  After Nora determined that the malfunctions weren’t due to operator error, she met with the supervisors who were in charge of each of the other aspects of the process. Whatever the flaw was, neither Nora nor the other supervisors had been able to identify or correct it.

  She buried her head in her hands. Failure was not an option, and with the Alpha-2 and 3 and Beta-2 plants about to come on line, whatever the problem with the calutrons was, it needed to be rectified quickly.

  In the meantime, she would keep her girls working, oversee the training of new hires, and try to keep up morale. It was all she could do.

  Mary hung up the last dress and arranged her shoes in the bottom of the closet. A knock on the door startled her. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Peggy from next door.”

  She opened the door. “I’m Mary. Nice to meet you.”