The AI-assisted ABC Biography of my mother, Betty Virginia (Carringer) Seaver, is in ABC Biography of #3 Betty Virginia (Carringer) Seaver (1919-2002) of San Diego, California. I also wrote Betty's Story: The First-Year Art Teacher about the start of her teaching career.
The AI-assisted ABC Biography of my father, Frederick Walton Seaver, is in ABC Biography of #2 Frederick Walton Seaver Jr. (1911-1983) of Massachusetts and San Diego, California. I also wrote Fred's Story: The Three-Day Cross-Country Escape and Fred's Story: "I Need A Girl" about him coming to San Diego, and then wanting for a girlfriend.
Then I wrote:
- Betty's Story: "The Dinner That Changed Everything" where Betty met Fred at Betty's student's home and their lives were changed.
- Betty and Fred's Story: "The First Date" where they got to know each other better.
- Betty and Fred's Story: "New Beginnings" where the romance blossoms a bit.
- Betty and Fred's Story: "Late Summer, Early Fall 1941" - more fun and love.
- Betty and Fred's Story: "Autumn Into Winter 1941" - Thanksgiving, Pearl Harbor and Christmas
- Betty and Fred's Story: Winter 1941/2 ... and Waiting - more fun and love and Valentine's Day - and disappointment
- Betty and Fred's Story: "Winter Into Spring 1942" - bad news, frustration and acceptance.
- Betty and Fred's Story: "The Big Moment" - the proposal
- Betty and Fred's Story: "Racing Toward Forever" - only two weeks to go!
(AI NotebookLM Infographic - Betty and Fred's Story - The Days Before)
1) Based on the biographies and the earlier stories, I asked Anthropic Claude Sonnet 4.5 to tell another story - what happened next (I offered some suggestions!)? Here is the next story (edited for more detail and accuracy):
Betty and Fred’s Story: The Days Before "I Do"
Early July 1942 - A New Home
Fred came to Fern Street on the first Wednesday of July with news. "I found us a house. In Chula Vista, not far from Rohr."
Betty looked up from the place cards she was hand-lettering for the reception. "You found one? Already?"
"It's perfect, Betty. A little bungalow on Twin Oaks Avenue, two bedrooms, a nice kitchen, a small yard, near the main streets. It’s brand new – housing for aircraft workers and Navy sailor families. The rent is thirty dollars a month, which we can manage on our combined salaries."
"When can I see it?"
"How about Saturday? I've already put down a deposit to hold it. I can move in now, and then we can be together when we get back from the honeymoon."
Saturday afternoon, Fred drove Betty to Chula Vista to see their future home. It was a modest California bungalow painted pale yellow, with a front porch and a small dirt front yard. Inside, the rooms were empty but full of potential—hardwood floors, large windows that let in plenty of light, a kitchen with modern appliances.
"The living room is big enough for a sofa and chairs," Fred said, walking through the space. "And this room can be our bedroom. The second bedroom—well, maybe that'll be a nursery someday."
Betty felt her cheeks warm at the mention of children, but she smiled. "It's perfect, Fred. I can already picture us here."
"Really? You like it?"
"I love it. It's ours. Our first home together."
They spent an hour walking through the house, planning where furniture would go, discussing what they'd need to buy. Fred had some pieces from his apartment—the sofa, his bed, a few chairs. Betty would bring things from her hope chest. Between gifts from the wedding and what they could afford to buy, they'd make it work.
"Nine more days," Fred said as they locked up the house. "Nine more days and you'll be my wife, and we'll start our life here."
"I can't wait."
Over the next few days, Fred moved his belongings from the Granada Avenue apartment to the Chula Vista house. Marshall Chamberlain helped him transport furniture, and Fred spent his evenings unpacking boxes and setting up the basics. He wanted Betty to walk into a home, not an empty house, after their honeymoon.
July 5-7, 1942 - Grandmother Wisdom
With the wedding just a week away, Betty found herself seeking advice from the women who'd come before her. On Sunday afternoon, she walked across the block to visit her paternal grandmother, Abbie Ardell "Della" Carringer, who still lived in the family home at 2115 30th Street.
Della, now in her seventies, welcomed Betty into the parlor with tea and cookies.
"So, my granddaughter is getting married," Della said, studying Betty with shrewd eyes. "Are you ready for it?"
"I think so, Grandma. I love Fred. I want to be his wife. But I'm also a little nervous."
"Nervous about what, specifically?"
Betty felt her cheeks warm. "About... everything. Being a wife. Running a household. The wedding night. What if I'm not good at any of it?"
Della laughed, a warm sound that eased Betty's tension. "Every bride has those same fears. I had them when I married your grandfather Austin. Your mother had them when she married your father. It's perfectly natural."
"What advice would you give me?"
Della thought for a moment. "Marriage is a partnership. You and Fred are a team now. That means you support each other, compromise with each other, and choose each other every day. Some days will be easy. Some days will be hard. But if you keep choosing each other, you'll be fine."
"What about running a household? I can barely cook."
"You'll learn. Start simple—roast chicken, pot roast, potatoes, basic vegetables. Fred won't expect you to be a master chef right away. And Betty, don't try to be perfect. That's a recipe for misery. Just try to be present, to be loving, to be yourself."
They talked for another hour, Della sharing stories about her own marriage, about raising children, about the rhythms of married life. Betty felt some of her anxiety easing, replaced by a quiet confidence.
The next afternoon, Betty sat in the kitchen at 2130 Fern Street with her maternal grandmother, Georgianna Auble. Georgianna was teaching Betty how to make her famous bread, the recipe she'd brought from Canada decades ago.
"The secret is in the kneading," Georgianna said, demonstrating the technique. "You have to work the dough until it's smooth and elastic. That develops the gluten, makes the bread rise properly."
Betty tried copying her grandmother's movements, pushing and folding the dough on the floured counter.
"Like this?"
"Exactly like that. You're a natural."
As they worked, Betty asked the question that had been on her mind. "Grandma, were you nervous before you married Grandfather Charles?"
"Terrified," Georgianna said without hesitation. "I was thirty years old, and he was 19 years older than me, a confirmed bachelor. But he was charming and funny, and we didn’t date very long before we married. But we built a good life together, Betty. We learned to love each other, but he had a drinking problem."
"Your situation was so different from mine. I know him pretty well, and love him."
"Then you're starting from a much better place than I did. You and Fred have a foundation of love and friendship. Build on that, liebchen. The rest—the cooking, the housekeeping, the intimacy—it will all come with time and patience."
Georgianna paused her kneading and looked directly at Betty. "About the wedding night—you're worried about that, aren't you?"
Betty nodded, unable to speak.
"Listen to me. Fred loves you. He'll be gentle and patient. Yes, it might be awkward at first. But that's true for everyone. Don't expect perfection. Just expect love, and give love in return. That's all you need."
Betty felt tears prick her eyes. "Thank you, Grandma. I needed to hear that."
They finished the bread together, shaping it into loaves and setting it to rise. As Betty prepared to leave, Georgianna pulled her into a tight embrace.
"You're going to be a wonderful wife, Betty. And someday, when you have daughters of your own, you'll pass this wisdom on to them."
July 8, 1942 - Final Preparations
Wednesday was a whirlwind of final preparations. Emily drove Betty to pick up her wedding dress from Marston's, carefully transporting it home in the box and hanging it in her closet. She stood staring at it for a long moment—this dress that she'd wear in just four days, walking down the aisle to Fred.
Fred picked up his tuxedo from the rental shop on Broadway. Marshall came with him to make sure everything fit properly.
"You look like you're going to the Academy Awards," Marshall joked as Fred stood in front of the mirror.
"I feel ridiculous."
"You look distinguished. Betty's going to swoon when she sees you."
"Betty's going to laugh."
"That too, probably."
That evening, Fred and Betty met with Father Stevens at All Saints' Episcopal Church for their final counseling session. They'd been meeting with him once a week for the past month, discussing their expectations for marriage, their faith, their commitment to each other.
"Are you both ready?" Father Stevens asked as they sat in his office.
"Yes," they said in unison.
"Marriage is a sacred covenant," Father Stevens reminded them. "Not just between the two of you, but with God. You're promising to love each other for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death parts you. Those aren't words to be taken lightly."
"We don't take them lightly," Fred said seriously. "I know what I'm promising. And I mean every word."
"So do I," Betty added.
Father Stevens smiled. "I believe you do. I've watched you two over these past weeks, and I see genuine love and commitment. You'll make a good married couple."
They walked through the church afterward, reviewing the logistics for Sunday. Where Betty would wait before the processional. Where Fred and Marshall would stand. The order of the ceremony. When to light the unity candle.
"Four more days," Betty said as they stood at the altar where they'd soon be married.
"Ninety-six hours," Fred calculated.
"You're counting in hours now?"
"Minutes, actually. But I thought hours sounded less obsessive."
Betty laughed and squeezed his hand. They stood there in the quiet church, the late afternoon sun streaming through the stained glass windows, both of them feeling the weight and wonder of what was about to happen.
Thursday, July 9, 1942 - The Seavers Arrive
Betty was too nervous to eat breakfast on Thursday morning. Today Fred's mother and sister were arriving from Massachusetts, and she'd finally meet the women who'd raised the man she loved.
Fred picked her up at noon, and they drove to the Santa Fe Station downtown. The train from Los Angeles was due at 12:30, after three days of travel across the country.
Emily Taylor and the Chamberlains met them at the station—Marshall, Dorothy, and Marcia, along with a young man Betty didn't recognize. Lyle and Emily Carringer were there too.
"Betty, this is my cousin Bud Richmond," Fred said, introducing them. "He's Bessie's nephew, visiting from Santa Barbara. He arrived two days ago. Bud, this is my fiancée, Betty Carringer."
"Soon to be Betty Seaver," Bud said, shaking her hand warmly. "Fred's told me all about you in his letters. It's wonderful to finally meet you."
"You're family already," Betty said, meaning it. Bud had a kind face and an easy manner that immediately put her at ease.
The train pulled in with a hiss of steam and the screech of brakes. Passengers began disembarking, and Fred scanned the crowd anxiously.
"There!" He pointed. "Mother! Gerry!"
Two women emerged from the train car. The older one—Bessie Seaver—was in her early sixties, wearing a sensible traveling suit, hat, and gloves, her hair gray, her face lined but kind. The younger one—Geraldine—was twenty-five, pretty and lively, her dark hair curled fashionably, her smile bright as she spotted her brother.
"Freddie!" Gerry called, using a nickname Betty had never heard before. She hurried over and threw her arms around her brother.
Fred hugged her tightly, then turned to embrace his mother. "Mother, you made it. How was the journey?"
"Long," Bessie said. "Three days on a train is no joke. But we're here now, and that's what matters."
Fred turned, his arm still around his mother's shoulders. "Mother, Gerry, I want you to meet someone very important. This is Betty Carringer, my fiancée."
Betty stepped forward, heart hammering, and extended her hand. "Mrs. Seaver, it's such an honor to meet you. Fred's told me so much about you."
Bessie took Betty's hand but didn't shake it—instead, she pulled Betty into a warm embrace. "None of this Mrs. Seaver business. You'll be my daughter-in-law in three days. Call me Bessie. Or Mother, if you're comfortable with that."
Betty felt tears prick her eyes. "Thank you. That means so much to me."
Gerry was next, hugging Betty with enthusiasm. "I can't believe my big brother is getting married! And to such a pretty girl! Fred, you didn't tell me she was this pretty!"
"I told you she was beautiful."
"Beautiful doesn't do her justice." Gerry linked her arm through Betty's. "We're going to be great friends, I can already tell. I want to hear everything about how you two met."
The group made their way out of the station, collecting luggage and loading it into cars. Bessie and Gerry would be staying with the Chamberlains for the duration of their visit—Dorothy had insisted, saying they had plenty of room and it would be no trouble at all.
"Betty, why don't you ride with us?" Gerry suggested. "Give me a chance to interrogate you properly about my brother."
"Gerry," Fred warned.
"I'm kidding! Mostly."
Betty rode with Bessie, Gerry, Emily and Dorothy to the Chamberlain house while Fred and Marshall dealt with the luggage. In the car, Gerry peppered Betty with questions about the wedding, about San Diego, about teaching, about everything.
"Gerry, let the poor girl breathe," Bessie said, but she was smiling.
"I'm sorry, I'm just so excited! We haven't had a wedding in the family for two years, and Fred's my favorite brother."
"I'm your only brother," Fred had said earlier, and Gerry had laughed (their brother Ed wasn’t there…).
At the Chamberlain house, Dorothy showed Bessie and Gerry to their rooms while Betty waited in the living room. When they came back down, Bessie sat beside Betty on the sofa and took her hand.
"I'm glad we have a moment alone," Bessie said. "I want you to know how happy I am about this marriage. Fred's letters have been full of you for months now. He loves you very much."
"I love him too. More than I knew I could love anyone."
"I can see that. And I can see he's chosen well. You're going to make him very happy."
"I'm going to try my best."
"That's all any of us can do." Bessie's eyes grew misty. "I wish my husband Frederick could be here to see this. He would have been so proud. Fred is so much like his father—steady, responsible, kind."
"Fred's told me about him. I wish I could have met him."
"He would have loved you. Just as I already do."
They spent the afternoon at the Chamberlains', Betty getting to know Bessie and Gerry, hearing stories about Fred as a child, seeing a different side of the man she was about to marry. Gerry had brought photographs—Fred as a toddler, Fred as a schoolboy, Fred at his Worcester Academy graduation, Fred in his football and basketball uniforms.
"I'm keeping these," Betty declared. "For blackmail purposes."
"That's the spirit," Gerry approved.
Thursday Afternoon, July 9 - The Trousseau Tea
At two o'clock, guests began arriving at 2130 Fern Street for the trousseau tea. Emily, the two grandmothers (Georgianna and Della), and Lyle had transformed the backyard into an elegant party space. White tablecloths covered several tables, vases of roses from the garden served as centerpieces, and tiered trays of sandwiches and cookies waited to be devoured. The greenhouse was nearby.
Sixty women had been invited—family, friends, bridesmaids, neighbors, sorority sisters, teaching colleagues, and of course Bessie and Gerry Seaver, who were the guests of honor along with Betty.
Betty wore a pretty pink dress and stood near the back door with her mother, greeting guests as they arrived. Each woman exclaimed over Betty's engagement ring, offered congratulations, and added their gift to the growing pile on a designated table.
Eleanor Steddom, Betty's matron of honor, arrived early to help hostess. The other bridesmaids followed—Sally Lyons, Phyllis Tazelaar, Marcia Chamberlain, and Edwina Taylor. All five women wore summer dresses and were excited to celebrate their friend.
"This is really happening," Sally said, hugging Betty. "In three days, you'll be married!"
"Don't remind me. I'm trying not to panic."
"You're not panicking. You're glowing. That's what brides are supposed to do."
Bessie and Gerry arrived with Emily Taylor and Dorothy Chamberlain, and Betty made sure to introduce them to everyone. Bessie was gracious and warm, winning over Betty's friends and family immediately. Gerry was lively and funny, fitting right in with Betty's bridesmaids.
"Your future sister-in-law is delightful," Eleanor whispered to Betty. "I like her already."
"Me too. I was so nervous about meeting Fred's family, but they're wonderful."
The afternoon passed in a pleasant blur of conversation, laughter, and the ritual opening of gifts. Betty received practical items for her new home—dish towels and pot holders, serving platters and mixing bowls, a set of matching canisters for the kitchen, embroidered pillowcases, table linens.
Georgianna's gift made Betty cry—a handmade quilt in the wedding ring pattern, sewn with love over the past three months.
"For your marriage bed," Georgianna said. "Made with prayers for your happiness."
Della gave Betty, her only granddaughter, a set of crystal wine glasses that had been in the Carringer family for generations. "For special occasions and celebrations. May you have many of both."
Emily's gift was the most practical—a complete set of cookware, from saucepans to a large stockpot. "You'll need these. And I've written out all my recipes for you in this book. Every dish your father loves, I've included."
The bridesmaids had gone in together on a beautiful serving set—silver-plated, elegant, perfect for entertaining.
"We figured every married couple needs nice serving pieces," Eleanor explained.
As the afternoon wound down and guests began leaving, Betty felt overwhelmed with gratitude and love. She was surrounded by women who cared about her, who wanted her to succeed, who were investing in her future happiness.
Bessie pulled Betty aside as she was preparing to leave. "This was lovely. Your mother and grandmothers clearly adore you."
"I'm very lucky."
"No, Fred is very lucky. He's found a woman who's loved and supported, who knows how to build community. That's worth more than any dowry."
Thursday Evening - The Bachelor Party
While the women were having their trousseau tea, the men were gathering for Fred's bachelor party—though calling it a party was generous. Marshall Chamberlain had organized a late lunch at a local pool hall on El Cajon Boulevard.
The groomsmen assembled: Marshall, of course, serving as best man. Rod Steddom, Eleanor's husband. George Lyons, Sally's husband. Dick Tazelaar, Phyllis's husband. And Bud Richmond, Fred's cousin from back east. They were joined by Lyle Carringer, Betty's father.
"This is the most subdued bachelor party I've ever attended," George joked as they claimed a table in the pool hall. "No drinking, no wild behavior, just lunch and billiards."
"Fred's a respectable man," Marshall said. "He doesn't need wild behavior. He just needs good friends and bad pool skills."
"Hey!" Fred protested. "I'm decent at pool."
"We'll see about that."
They ordered sandwiches and Cokes, then took turns at the pool table. Fred was, in fact, a decent player, though Marshall beat him handily.
"So, Fred," Rod said as they racked up for another game. "Ready for married life?"
"More than ready. I've been ready since the day I met Betty."
"No cold feet?"
"Not even lukewarm feet. I know what I want, and it's her."
Lyle, who'd been quietly observing, spoke up. "I'm glad to hear you say that, Fred. Betty's my only child. My whole world. I'm trusting you to take care of her."
"I will, sir. I promise you that. She'll always be safe with me, loved by me, cherished by me."
"Good. Because if you break her heart, I'll have to break your legs."
There was a moment of silence, then Lyle smiled. "I'm kidding. Mostly."
Everyone laughed, and the tension broke.
Bud Richmond clapped Fred on the shoulder. "Your Betty seems like a wonderful woman. I only met her briefly at the station, but I could see how much she loves you. It was in her eyes when she looked at you."
"I'm the luckiest man alive," Fred said simply.
They played pool for another hour, trash-talking and joking, but underneath the casual camaraderie was real affection and support. These men were Fred's community, and they were showing up for him on the eve of his wedding.
As they prepared to leave, Marshall raised his Coke bottle. "A toast. To Fred, who's joining the ranks of married men this Sunday. May your marriage be long, happy, and full of adventure. And may Betty not realize what she's getting into until it's too late to back out."
"Hear, hear!" the others chorused, clinking bottles.
Fred laughed but felt genuine emotion welling up. In three days, he'd stand before God and his community and promise to love Betty Carringer for the rest of his life. And he meant every word of that promise with his whole heart.
Friday, July 10, 1942 - Dinner at the Chamberlains
Friday evening, the Chamberlains hosted a dinner so Betty and Fred could spend time together with Bessie, Gerry, and Bud in a more relaxed setting. Dorothy had prepared a simple but delicious meal of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans.
Around the table sat Fred and Betty, Bessie and Gerry, Bud Richmond, Emily Taylor, and Marshall and Dorothy Chamberlain, and Marcia was there, of course—the matchmaker who'd started it all.
"I still can't believe you two are getting married," Marcia said. "I mean, I knew you'd be perfect together from the moment I thought of introducing you, but it's surreal seeing it actually happen."
"We owe you everything," Betty said. "If you hadn't invited me to dinner that night—"
"You'd have met some other way," Marcia interrupted. "It was destiny. I just helped it along."
Bessie was curious about how they'd met, so the story was retold—Fred staying with the Chamberlains, Betty teaching art to Marcia, the dinner invitation, the instant connection.
"It was love at first sight," Fred said, taking Betty's hand.
"It was not," Betty protested. "It was attraction at first sight. Love came later."
"When did you know?" Gerry asked. "That you were in love?"
Fred and Betty looked at each other.
"For me, it was the night we went to see 'The Philadelphia Story,'" Fred said. "We were sitting in the North Park Theater, holding hands in the dark, and I just knew. This was it. She was it."
"For me, it was your birthday," Betty said. "October 15th. We were sitting at Mission Beach, and you said you wanted to build a life with me. The way you said it—so certain, so committed—I realized I was completely in love with you."
"That's beautiful," Gerry sighed. "I want to find love like that."
"You will," Bessie assured her. "When the time is right."
The conversation flowed easily through dinner and into the evening. Betty asked Bessie about her life in Leominster, about Fred's childhood, about the family dynamics with six children.
"Fred was always the rascally and fun boy," Bessie said. "After his father and I had our first child, Marion, we had six more children in quick succession, but our Stanley died at age four. Fred, being the oldest boy, eventually took on some responsibility, but he was very mischievous until after school. He started helping with his younger siblings, doing chores without being asked, and stopped causing trouble. "
"That sounds like Fred," Betty said.
"He gets it from his father," Bessie continued, her voice softening. "Frederick Sr. was the most dependable man I've ever known. When he said he'd do something, it was as good as done. Fred has that same quality."
Bud Richmond added his perspective. "I had not met Fred until yesterday—we lived in Santa Barbara—and my father died soon after I was born. But the family stayed in touch with letters. I never visited Massachusetts, but Aunt Emily and the Chamberlains came to visit occasionally.
"I was a saint," Fred said, embarrassed. "I never got into trouble."
"Name one time," Bessie challenged.
The evening was warm and comfortable, filled with laughter and stories. Betty felt herself relaxing around Fred's family, feeling accepted and welcomed. Gerry was like the sister she'd never had—fun and talkative and genuinely interested in Betty's life. Bessie was everything a mother-in-law should be—kind, supportive, and clearly devoted to her son.
As the evening wound down, Bessie pulled Betty aside while the others were saying their goodbyes.
"I'm so glad Fred found you," Bessie said quietly. "After his father died, I worried about him being so far from family. But I can see he's built a new family here. And you're the center of it."
"He talks about you all the time," Betty said. "He misses you and his siblings terribly."
"I know. But California is his home now. You're his home. And that brings me peace." Bessie squeezed Betty's hands. "Take care of my boy, won't you?"
"Always. I promise."
Saturday, July 11, 1942 - The Day Before
Saturday was supposed to be a day of rest before the wedding, but both Betty and Fred were too keyed up to relax. They spent the morning apart—Betty having her hair done at the salon on 30th Street, Fred running last-minute errands—but he picked her up for lunch at a small café on Park Boulevard.
"One more day," Betty said, hardly able to believe it.
"Twenty-four hours. This time tomorrow, we'll be married."
"Are you nervous?"
"Terrified," Fred admitted. "Not about marrying you—about that, I'm completely certain. But about the ceremony, about standing up in front of everyone, about whether I'll remember my vows."
"You'll be fine. And if you forget your vows, Father Stevens will prompt you."
"What if I trip walking down the aisle?"
"The groom doesn't walk down the aisle. You'll already be at the altar."
"Oh. Right. What if I drop the ring?"
Betty laughed. "Fred, you're overthinking this. Tomorrow, we're going to stand before our friends and family and promise to love each other forever. That's all that matters. Everything else is just details."
"You're right. I know you're right. I just want everything to be perfect for you."
"It will be perfect because we'll be together."
They spent the afternoon together, driving to their new house in Chula Vista one more time. Fred had been working on it all week, and he wanted Betty to see the progress.
When they walked in, Betty gasped. The living room now had furniture—the sofa from Fred's apartment, two chairs he'd bought secondhand, a coffee table. The bedroom had the bed, a dresser, and a wardrobe. The kitchen had dishes in the cabinets and pots and pans hanging on hooks.
"Fred, it looks like a real home!"
"I wanted you to walk in after the honeymoon and feel like you were coming home, not moving into an empty house."
Betty walked through the rooms, touching the furniture, opening cabinets, imagining the life they'd build here. In the bedroom, she noticed something on the nightstand—a framed photograph of the two of them from Easter Sunday, standing together after church.
"When did you take this?" she asked.
"Marshall took it. I had it developed and framed. I wanted a picture of us in our bedroom, to remind me every morning how lucky I am."
Betty felt tears well up. "I love you so much."
"I love you too. And tomorrow, I get to start loving you as my wife."
They left the house reluctantly, both wishing they could fast-forward through the next twenty-four hours to the part where they were married and beginning their honeymoon.
That evening, tradition demanded they spend apart. Fred drove Betty home to Fern Street and walked her to the door.
"This is the last time I'll drop you off as your fiancé," Fred said. "The next time I see you, you'll be walking down the aisle toward me."
"Don't make me cry. I've cried enough this week."
"Happy tears, though, right?"
"The happiest."
Fred kissed her goodnight—a long, sweet kiss that promised everything tomorrow would bring. When they finally pulled apart, both were reluctant to let go.
"I'll see you at the altar," Fred said. "Three o'clock. Don't be late."
"I'll be the one in white."
"I'll be the one crying."
Betty laughed through her own tears. "Goodnight, Fred. My almost-husband."
"Goodnight, Betty. My almost-wife."
She watched him drive away, then went inside where her mother and grandmothers were waiting. Her wedding dress hung in her closet, pressed and perfect. Her trousseau was packed for the honeymoon. Everything was ready.
Tomorrow, July 12, 1942, at three o'clock in the afternoon, Betty Virginia Carringer would marry Frederick Walton Seaver Jr.
And their forever would begin.
To be continued...
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2) Here is the Google NotebookLM Video Overview about Fred and Betty's activities leading up to their wedding on 12 July 1942 in San Diego:
3) This story is historical fiction based on real people -- my parents -- and a real place. I don't know the full story of these events -- but this is how it might have been. I hope that it was at least this good! Claude is such a good story writer! I added some details and corrected some errors in Claude's initial version.
Stay tuned for the next episode in this family story.
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