My Mother's Gift: The Diary of Peggy Caples

Hello Dolly

The bell above the sandwich shop door jingled as Peggy and Ralph entered, the savory aroma of toasted bread and spices enveloping them. Ralph's hand rested gently on the small of her back, a comforting weight that seemed to anchor her amidst the swirl of summer aromas.

"Make mine with extra pickles," Peggy said, smiling up at him. She could always count on Ralph to remember the little things that made her happy.

"Wouldn't dream of forgetting," Ralph replied warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

A familiar laughter cascaded through the air as they waited in line, turning their attention to the corner booth. With her blonde hair cascading like a sunlit waterfall, Dolly sat across from Bob, who was animatedly telling a story. Her beach attire left little to the imagination, and it was clear Ralph had noticed too; his gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary.

"Hey there, you two," Dolly called out, waving them over with a perfectly manicured hand. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"Small town, smaller beach," Ralph said, his voice casual as he led Peggy toward the booth.

"Hi, Dolly. Bob," Peggy greeted, taking in Dolly's stunning appearance and Bob's easy grin.

Bob stood up, shaking hands with Ralph before turning to Peggy. "How's the water today?" he said.

Meanwhile, Dolly's eyes sparkled with mischief as she teased Ralph about his choice of swim trunks earlier that day. Peggy watched, an eyebrow raised, as a grin spread across Ralph's face, his reply flirtatious enough to make Dolly throw her head back with laughter.

"Should we join tables?" Dolly suggested, patting the seat next to her.

"Maybe another time," Peggy interjected quickly. "We don't want to interrupt your dinner."

"Too late for that," Ralph chuckled, but he followed Peggy's lead as they collected their sandwiches and found a table just outside the shop.

"Ralph seems to have quite the fan club," Peggy remarked once they were alone, her tone light but probing.

"Can't help it if I'm popular," he said with a shrug, though his eyes held hers earnestly.

"Of course," Peggy said, feigning nonchalance as she took a bite of her sandwich, the tang of pickles sharp on her tongue.

Later that night, after laughter and shared stories had carried them back to her parents' condo, Peggy reached into her purse for the keys—only to find them missing. Sighing, she realized her only option was to wake Billy, the ever-patient neighbor who had a spare set.

"Dammit," she muttered, pressing the doorbell to Billy's place. The hour was ungodly, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of embarrassment mixed with frustration.

"Locked out again?" Billy asked, stifling a yawn as he opened the door. His tousled hair and rumpled pajamas spoke volumes of the deep sleep she'd interrupted.

"Sorry to wake you," Peggy apologized, accepting the keys with a grateful smile.

"Anytime, Peg. You know that."

"Thanks, Billy. Really," Peggy insisted.

"Sure thing. Good night," he said, offering a sleepy wave before closing the door.

As Peggy let herself into the darkened condo, echoes of Ralph's laughter with Dolly wormed their way into her thoughts. She pushed the irritation aside, knowing that jealousy wasn't a color she wore well. And yet, the sight of Ralph's attention diverted elsewhere, even for a moment, stung more than she cared to admit.

Saturday, June 26, 1948
Doris & Merle came down. Met them on beach and went swimming with them and Carey. Saw Herman, Tip and Oozzie. Doris, Merle, Ralph and I went to Rehoboth beach to see "Rusty" then went on boardwalk. Had submarine sandwich. Got locked out so had to wake up Billy.

Peggy stretched languidly on the sun-warmed sand, her skin drinking in the golden rays as a gentle breeze toyed with her brunette locks. Surrounding her, the beach was alive with the symphony of crashing waves and distant laughter, the cacophony of summer at its zenith. She reached for her diary, but the words blurred into the background noise of her thoughts, where echoes of last night's encounter with Ralph still lingered.

She waded into the shallows, letting the cool water encase her ankles, watching as each wave retreated and left behind patterns on the sand like delicate lacework. The ocean's vastness always brought her a sense of solitude that bordered on religious—a private communion between her heart and the tide's whispered secrets. Peggy reveled in this stolen moment of tranquility before the inevitable pull of social tides would reclaim her.

As evening approached, the sky melted into a canvas of pastels. Peggy spotted Shirley making her way down the beach, her silhouette framed by the setting sun. The sight of her sister was an anchor in the shifting sands of Peggy's summer romance and internal conflict.

"Shirley!" Peggy called out, rising to greet her. They embraced, the familiarity of shared history woven into the gesture.

"What a picture this is," Shirley said, gesturing towards the horizon where the last vestiges of daylight clung stubbornly to the sky.

"Nothing compares to Ocean City in the summer," said Peggy.

They settled onto the blanket, knees drawn up as the first stars began to twinkle overhead. Shirley listened intently as Peggy recounted tales of boardwalk escapades and moonlit walks, her voice animated yet underscored by a subtle current of unease.

"Speaking of escapades, you've been curiously silent about George," Shirley probed.

Peggy's smile faltered, and she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a telltale sign of her discomfort. "I've been meaning to write to him, truly I have," she began, her blue eyes reflecting the turmoil beneath the surface. "But every time I take pen to paper, I'm paralyzed. It's as if admitting it all—in ink, on paper—would make it too real."

"Are you afraid of what you might say, or what he might feel?" said Shirley.

"Both, I suppose," Peggy confessed, drawing a pattern in the sand with her finger. "I fear the finality of it, the end of one chapter before I'm ready to begin another. With Ralph here, it's like I'm living two lives, and neither feels entirely mine."

"Sometimes the hardest letters to write are the ones most needed. You can't start a new future while you're still reading from the past."

"I know," Peggy sighed, the weight of her indecision making her shoulders slump. "It's just that... I'm scared, Shirley. Scared of hurting him, scared of being alone, scared of choosing the wrong path."

"Courage, sweet sister, isn't the absence of fear. It's moving forward despite it." Shirley squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Whatever you decide, remember that you deserve happiness—not as a side note in someone else's story, but as the heroine of your own."

The sisters sat in silence, the ocean's rhythm a soothing backdrop as the last light surrendered to dusk. There in the twilight, Peggy found solace in Shirley's presence, a guiding star as she navigated the uncertain waters of love and self-discovery.