Tricia is a shy newlywed, married to a rising attorney on loan to navy intelligence. Charlene is a practiced corporate spouse and mother of three. In Saigon in 1963, the two women form a wary alliance as they balance the era’s mandate to be “helpmeets” to their ambitious husbands with their own inchoate impulse to “do good” for the people of Vietnam. Sixty years later, Charlene’s daughter, spurred by an encounter with an aging Vietnam vet, reaches out to Tricia. Together, they look back at their time in Saigon, taking wry account of that pivotal year and of Charlene’s altruistic machinations. They discover how their own lives as women on the periphery have been shaped and burdened by the same sort of unintended consequences that followed America’s tragic interference in Southeast Asia.

On a dim winter afternoon, a young Irish immigrant opens the gas taps in his Brooklyn tenement. He is determined to prove --- to the subway bosses who have recently fired him and to his badgering, pregnant wife --- that “the hours of his life belonged to himself alone.” In the aftermath of the fire that follows, Sister St. Saviour appears, unbidden, to direct the way forward for his widow and his unborn child. In Catholic Brooklyn in the early part of the 20th century, decorum, superstition and shame collude to erase the man’s brief existence, and yet his suicide, though never spoken of, reverberates through many lives --- testing the limits and the demands of love and sacrifice, of forgiveness and forgetfulness, even through multiple generations.

We first glimpse Marie Commeford as a child: a girl in thick glasses observing her pre-Depression world from a Brooklyn stoop. Through her first heartbreak and eventual marriage; her delicate brother’s brief stint as a Catholic priest and his emotional breakdown; her career as a funeral director’s “consoling angel”; the deaths of her parents and the births of her children --- we follow Marie through the changing world of the 20th century and her Irish-American enclave.