78.
Brooklyn, New York City
September 13th, 1945
Peggy is dressing for another day of working at the SSR when she hears the front door open outside her closed door, and then Isabel's voice floods the apartment, followed by another female voice Peggy has never heard before. She finds herself on guard, just for a second, but Isabel sounds relaxed and the people seem to know one another.
Peggy finishes getting ready before she emerges into the living room, briefcase in hand. She pauses immediately when she sees who their visitor is. Without even being introduced, she knows it is Isabel's mother. Winifred Barnes has a similar facial structure to Isabel, with the same hair colour, only Winifred's is speckled with grey. Peggy can even see a resemblance to Bucky in Winifred, and she wonders how alike Bucky looked to his father, whom she is yet to meet.
Isabel and Winifred are sitting at the kitchen table. Isabel is eating some toast before she goes to work, already dressed in her white uniform, and Winifred is drinking a cup of coffee. They're talking about something, and then Isabel laughs.
When Peggy walks into the room, Winifred falls silent, her eyes widening at the sight of her. She hurries to stand in front of Peggy, almost in awe, a large grin forming on her lips.
"Oh!" She says, her Russian thick on her tongue as her eyes brighten with recognition of who is in front of her. "Oh, hello!"
"Hello, Mrs. Barnes," Peggy replies smoothly, holding out a hand for Winifred to shake. "Peggy Carter."
Winifred looks at it a moment in confusion before she smiles again, shaking it with her own weathered hands. "You're the beauty Bucky always told us about in his letters," Winifred says excitedly. "Isabel, this is Peggy!" Winifred cries, turning back to Isabel and trying to get her attention.
"I know, Mama," Isabel laughs, taking another bite of toast, reading the paper.
Winifred turn back to Peggy. "Oh, darling, I am so sorry–"
Isabel gets up immediately and hurries over to stop her mother. "Mama, stop–"
"It's okay, Is," Peggy reassures. She looks back to Winifred, who stands a little shorter than herself, and smiles at the older woman with a fondness usually only reserved for a few members of the Commandos. "It's an honour to meet you, Mrs. Barnes. Bucky always spoke very highly of you. He missed you very much while he was away. He truly was one of a kind."
Winifred smiles somewhat brighter. "He was. And I think you may be, too, kotonyok." Winifred moves away then, toward the kitchen table again. "You must come around for dinner with Isabel one time. Any time you want, just tag along with her. Everyone is invited," she offers as she walks away, stopping at the table to take another sip of coffee.
"That sounds lovely, Mrs. Barnes. Thank you," Peggy says sincerely.
"Call me Winifred. Or Win, or Fred. Whatever you chose. I used to get all sorts of nicknames from Bucky and Steve when they were meddlesome teenagers."
"I didn't realise they grew out of that," Isabel deadpans.
Peggy looks down at the watch on her wrist. "I'm so sorry, ladies, but duty calls," Peggy says with a smile. She collects up her suitcase, checks once more everything is inside, and plops her red hat carefully atop her styled hair. As she passes Isabel, she takes the piece of toast Isabel automatically offers, planning on eating it as she walks.
"Have a nice day at work, love," Winifred says. "I'll see you around, I hope?"
"Of course, Mrs. Ba– Winifred," Peggy corrects. "I believe I may be in Brooklyn to stay."
"Oh, wonderful," Winifred says, and Isabel can't help the smile that pulls on her lips.
"See ya, Peg," Isabel says with a wave.
As Peggy leaves, she shuts the door behind her slowly. She hears Winifred ask, "Where does Peggy work?"
There's a slight pause. "Um… the phone company," Isabel replies cheerfully.
Isabel and Peggy do take Winifred up on her offer for dinner. Isabel rings on Sunday morning and by later that afternoon they're standing outside the Barnes' apartment, Isabel knocking on the door.
"They'll love you, don't worry," Isabel reassures. "You had Mama wrapped around your little finger, the others will be no better."
Peggy nods. It isn't really like her to be nervous meeting someone. She's known for her charisma and her charm, and she didn't even bat an eyelid at talking to Armin Zola or meeting the British Prime Minister. But she wants the rest of the Barnes' family to like her, and she guesses in a way to accept her. Had Bucky still been here, she's sure that he would've brought her home to meet them and he would have wanted them to love her too, to have been a family. With her own family so far away and so distant from her now, it would be nice to have people in her life that resembled a family again.
The front door opens and a girl stands there, no older than sixteen, with shoulder-length brown hair curled tight, the front pulled up in a small victory roll. "Did you bring the cake?" The girl asks immediately without greeting, eyeing the box in Isabel's hand.
"Of course, who do you take me for? I baked it this morning," Isabel retorts, pushing past the younger girl. "Lemon, your favourite."
"Oh, goody," the girl says, before she turns her gleaming smile toward the woman in the doorway. "Who's your friend, Is?" She asks curiously.
"God, sorry, how rude of me," Isabel says quickly, putting the cake box on the kitchen bench before coming back over. "This is Peggy Carter. Peg, this is my sister, Rebecca," she introduces, smiling at her sister and raising her eyebrows.
Peggy extends a hand, ever polite. "It's lovely to meet you," she says genuinely.
"Hang on," Becca mumbles. "Peggy, British, brunette… you were going steady with Bucky, weren't you?"
Peggy laughs, slightly awkwardly. "Uh, yes. I was."
"Oh," Becca says, quieter than Isabel's ever seen her. "I'm sorry."
"I appreciate that, and as am I," Peggy adds.
A pair of footsteps emerge from one of the bedrooms then, and a tall man enters the kitchen. He looks a lot like Bucky, but older, with worn features and a deep wrinkle between his eyebrows. He carries the newspaper in his hands and looks up toward the door, immediately putting it down at the sight of Peggy.
"Miss Carter," he greets. "I'm George. Why is she still outside, let her in Becca! Come in, come in!"
Peggy steps into the apartment, Becca closing the door behind her, and allows herself to be ushered in by George Barnes. "Call me Peggy, please."
"Welcome to our humble abode," he laughs. "It isn't much but it's home."
"No, its wonderful," Peggy disagrees, looking around the living area – at the piano in the corner where the children learned to play, the filled bookshelves, the well sat in couches, the cozy atmosphere. She can see it, Bucky and Isabel growing up here, younger versions of themselves teaching each other to dance between the couches, a skinnier version of Steve walking inside and playing chess with Bucky on the coffee table. "Thank you for having me," she manages through her thoughts.
"Of course! Win came home the other day and told me all about you. She really chewed Isabel out for the details."
"I had to, you know me darling," Winifred says, waltzing into the room in her best Sunday dress. "Hello again, kotonyok. It has been too long." She whisks past Peggy, enveloping her in a big hug.
"Since Wednesday, Mama, really?" Isabel laughs. "I'm beginning to think you like Peggy more than you like me."
"Do not be jealous, Belle, I missed you, too. Becca, be a dear and fetch your brother from his room? Dinner is ready."
In the time that Becca goes to her room and returns with Robbie, a quiet looking boy with almost identical features to his twin sister, Winifred has emptied the oven and fridge of the food for dinner, setting the banquet onto the table. It looks good enough to be resturant quality food and it makes Peggy's stomach rumble.
"Oh, Mrs Barnes, I haven't seen food that looked this good in years," Peggy gushes.
"Thank you! You tell me if Isabel isn't feeding you right over there, you can eat here whenever you want."
Isable looks affronted at that, but she can't argue. No one could beat their mother at cooking. Just like with poker, she's a natural.
"Sit, sit! Dig in, don't wait and yada yada," Winifred laughs.
All hands reach for spoons and knives, cutting the roast beef and spooning vegetables onto their plate. Peggy douses a generous amount of gravy over her beef and vegetables, reminiscing on the similar traditional British roasts her own mother used to make.
"I hope you like it," Winifred says. "When I knew you were coming, I tried to cook something you may find familiar," she continues, somehow knowing exactly what Peggy was thinking.
"I was just remembering the Sunday roasts my mother used to make when I was a child," Peggy smiles. She takes a bite of the roast and humms in satisfaction. "It tastes exactly like it. Are you sure you didn't ask my mother for the recipe?"
Winifred laughs. "Oh no, I just threw this together," she says modestly. George raises an eyebrow at her, knowing she spent the entire day reading through cookbooks and asking the neighbours how to cook the perfect roast. "It was no trouble, trust me."
The group begin small talking then, Robbie speaking about a science experiment they did at school and Isabel talking about her work at the hospital the day before. Winifred and George show an investment in their children's lives that Peggy finds entirely admirable – they hang onto every word their children say, offering encouragement and advice when necessary, and give equal time and consideration to all of their children. She can't say whether they've always been like that or whether this is something that has begun after the loss of a child, but from the way that the Barnes children have been brought up – generous and kind and giving – she can assume this is usual practice.
Eventually, though, topics of conversation about their week since last seeing each other peter away, and all eyes slowly turn back to the newcomer.
"So, Peggy, you're from Britain?" George asks coversationally.
"Yes. Hampstead to be specific."
"Is it much different to England than it is here?" Becca inquires.
"A bit, yes. The city of London, that's quite similar to New York. But when you leave the city, most of the people live in the country, in small villages and towns. I haven't been to anywhere in the United States other than New York but I assume you have a lot more cities than we do in England."
"Isn't it very cold there?" Robbie asks.
"Not much colder than here, really. You have very cold winters, too, I've heard. But perhaps a bit rainier and gloomier."
"And now you live here, working for the phone company," Becca says. "What did you do during the war then?" Becca inquires as she piles a blob of mashed potato onto her plate.
Peggy doesn't even hesitate to answer. "Similar work; I manned the phones at the base."
"That's all?" Becca looks disappointed. "In his letters, Bucky said you were kind of a badass–"
"Becca," Winifred interrupts. "I highly doubt that Peggy wants to talk about what she did in the war."
"But I want to know about her!"
"Of course you do."
Becca turns to Isabel. "We all read your letters. How did you all work with Peggy so much if she only manned the phones? You guys were out fighting on the front! She must have been with you all along," Becca insists.
"Becca–" Winifred tries.
"Perhaps she didn't work the telephones at all," Robbie pipes up. "Maybe she was a secret agent like in all the movies, and she went on undercover missions and killed bad guys with her pistol. Is that it? Do you have a codename?"
"Or perhaps the two of you are thinking way too much into this, and have been watching too much television?" Peggy suggests. "What a load of poppycock. You don't have to be an undercover agent to be, as you said, a badass. I once hung up the phone on Winston Churchill you know?"
"Wow!" The two wins both chime in.
Isabel sighs. It's going to be a long dinner.
