Dinner goes off without a hitch. The men love her cooking and as they smoke cigars out on the porch afterwards, the boss's wife offers to help her do dishes. Courtney insists she has it under control but the woman picks up a rag anyway.

"Your husband is so brave," Beth says. She's a short, plain looking country girl and looks at Courtney in awe, diving right into gossip. "I can't believe he still lets you work at the place where you were assaulted! Brady would never let me leave the house!"

Courtney scrubs hard at a grease stain. "I wasn't assaulted. And I wasn't in serious danger."

And maybe it was the naïveté Justin was always chastising her for or maybe Duncan Clyde was better than he thought he was and she more desperate that she realized because when he'd asked her to join him, she almost said yes. Going with him might have been easier than having this conversation.

"I mean," Beth continues, oblivious, "I'm frightened of going anywhere on my own these days. I usually stay at home while Brady works late."

"I could never do that," Courtney says.

Beth turns to her, gasping like Courtney had used a swear. "Not even when you have children?"

Courtney isn't sure what prompts the honesty. Maybe it's because she knows the truth of Brady's "late nights" or because everyone she talks to keeps bringing up the memory of Duncan Clyde's breath against her throat, but Courtney finds herself vigorously scrubbing a wine glass and saying, "I'm not sure I want children."

The girl beside her turns a shade whiter at Courtney's words. "No.. No children? But.. but what are you two going to do all by yourselves?"

Courtney puts the glass on the drying rack to keep from cracking it. "Marriage isn't all about children, you know," she says tightly. "Justin and I are perfectly capable of living together romantically by ourselves."

"Right... Well, I didn't mean to say that you couldn't... I just... well, I would never feel complete without a little boy or girl to remind me of my sweet Brady!"

Courtney rolls her eyes. "Not every woman needs a baby," she says. "Or a man either. In fact, believe it or not, some women up north are doing better financially on their own. Some women are even perfectly content with their own jobs, their own homes, and—" she pauses, noticing how Beth is staring at her.

Courtney pulls some hair back out of her face and fixes the clip in her updo with a snap!

"Nevermind." She grabs another dish from the sink. "Just a joke."

When Beth and Brady leave and Courtney lies down for the night, she feels the crackling newspaper clippings of Duncan Clyde under her mattress. Her body flushes with the memory of blue eyes with dark hair and pinstriped suits and the tenor of his siren song voice.

"Brady had a great time," Justin says, kissing her cheek and getting into bed beside her. "Thank you. That promotion is all but guaranteed."

She turns over to him, her body warm in all the right places.

"So lets celebrate," Courtney says pointedly.

Justin looks over at her. "It's a little late for champagne."

She fights the urge to frown. "No, I mean," she rubs her legs against his suggestively, "let's celebrate."

Justin's brow furrows. "Bonnie, I thought we agreed that we didn't want children right now. Not at this time in our lives."

Now Courtney does frown. "Who said anything about children?"

"Well you were just suggesting…"

"Yes, but why does that have to come back to children?" That made two people today who wanted to talk to her about kids. "I just want to have sex with you."

"Honey, it's late," he says, turning over. "I have a week-long business trip with Brady tomorrow that I need to rest up for. We'll discuss this when I get back."

"There's nothing to discuss!" Courtney shouts. Justin turns back to her, eyes narrowed.

"Bonnie. You're starting to sound like one of those women you hear about on the radio," he says carefully. "This isn't like you. I don't think working at that bank is a good idea anymore."

Courtney's jaw drops. "What?"

"You're starting to get all these notions, and it's not good for your health, dear. I'm going to call them first thing when I get back from my trip and turn in your resignation."

Courtney's grabs his arm, shaking him.

"These notions? It's called sex, Justin! Something that modern husbands and modern wives do just because it's fun and they love each other. It has nothing to do with my job, I just want us to be like that. Why can't we be like them, Justin?" she asks.

"Because those couples aren't good Christian people like us," he says sternly. "Drop it."

Courtney flips over on the bed. "I can't stand you some days," she mutters.

"Oh really?" he snaps, "Because I'm acting like I've always acted. It's you who's acting intolerable. You're moody and aggressive all the time, and you have all these ideas about how couples and women should be."

Courtney scoffs. "Oh, so it's a crime now to want to be a modern woman?"

"No, but it should be. No self-respecting, God-fearing woman would want to be a...What are they called again? Robert and I were talking about those harlots a few days ago.. oh, that's right. Flappers."

"But—!"

"Enough, Bonnie. Go to sleep. This is the last I want to hear about this," he warns before falling silent.

Courtney grinds her teeth and turns away from him. It wasn't a crime to want to have sex with your husband. Where did he get off, calling her a wannabe whore? Flappers weren't as bad as he made them seem. They lead their own lives and made their own choices in men and clothes and careers.

The thought trickles into her mind that Duncan Clyde would never be like this with her about sex. And even though the thought is ungrounded, it lodges in her mind. She doesn't know Duncan Clyde, but she knows he wouldn't be like this. A life of crime with him, if at all, wouldn't be like this.

Courtney sets her brow. Justin thought she was losing her mind? Thought she was a whore and a terrible wife? Fine.

She'd prove him right.