Don't Forget to Write: A Novel(15)

When I arrived back, tired, hot, and dirty from nearly two hours of travel time just to get a lipstick, Ada was in the living room, laughing into the phone.

I held out her lipstick wordlessly, and she gestured for me to put it on the table. “Darling, Marilyn is here. I’ll call you back from the bedroom.” She replaced the receiver and rose.

“Who was that?” If it was my mother, I would have liked to have said hello.

“No one you know,” Ada said. “And that’s another impertinent question.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

She turned to look at me. “Two impertinent questions. My, we’re feeling brave today, aren’t we?”

“Well, you called them darling.”

“Darling, I call everyone darling. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

She swept up the stairs grandly, and I heard the door to her bedroom closing.

I looked at the telephone on the table. If I picked it up very quietly, I could listen in.

I waited long enough for her to have dialed and then carefully removed the receiver—but the sound of a dial tone greeted me. I waited and tried again two more times before Sally started barking, at which point I gave up because I couldn’t listen in without that evil little monster giving me away.

With a sigh, I went upstairs to rest until dinnertime. But as I passed Ada’s room, curiosity got the better of me, and I crept back to the door and leaned my ear against it.

I couldn’t make out the words, but I heard the low murmur of her talking, as well as another laugh. I had been outsmarted. There was another phone line in her room.

There was no way to prove it, but I felt my guess had been correct. That wasn’t the laugh of someone talking to a friend. It had a flirtatious lilt to it.

Then again, Ada had seemed to be flirting with Thomas, who was more than fifty years her junior, so what did I know? On my tiptoes, I made my way to my room, shutting the door quietly behind me.





CHAPTER ELEVEN


Two days later, instead of dismissing me after the morning’s matchmaking work, Ada looked me over again. “Have you got a bathing suit?”

“Of course.”

“With you? Or in New York?”

“Here. Mama said I would need it for the shore.”

“Show me,” she said, rising and leading the way up the stairs.

Uncertainly, I followed her to my bedroom, where she sat at the dressing table chair. I went to the drawer where I had put it and pulled the stretchy fabric out.

Ada pursed her lips. “No. That won’t do at all.”

“Whyever not?”

She rose and gestured for me to follow her. “We’re going to Gimbels.”

I sighed. The absolute last thing I wanted was to be stuffed into some bathing contraption from the Victorian era that covered me from shoulders to knees. The tan lines would be atrocious. “Ada, I like my suit.”

“I don’t recall asking.”

“Or listening,” I grumbled.

“What was that, darling? I wasn’t listening.”

“Nothing,” I said through clenched teeth.

She turned and patted my cheek. “Keep it that way.”

But at least with Thomas not around, I was allowed into the front seat of the Cadillac. Though it was a more terrifying ride with the full, unobstructed view of what we were narrowly missing. I wondered if there were so few cars on the road to avoid the terror that was Ada.

She parked on the street near the store, leaving the top down.

“Aren’t you worried someone will steal the car?”

She looked at me as if I had just asked if she was worried aliens would land and shave her head. “You’re not in New York anymore.”

That much was for sure.

Entering the store with Ada was an entirely new experience. I had been ignored until reaching the makeup counter on my solo journey. But a doorman held the door for her, greeting her by name, and a young woman came rushing over to her. “Miss Heller! I’m so sorry; we didn’t know you were coming.”

“I do like to keep you on your toes.”

She smiled politely, clearly flustered. “I’ll go fetch Charlotte. One moment, please.”

“We’ll meet her upstairs.”

“Of course,” she said, rushing away.

I followed Ada toward an elevator, where a uniformed man stood, ready to push the buttons. I hadn’t seen an elevator operator in years.

“Hello, Miss Heller,” he said, tipping his hat.

“George,” Ada said with a nod. And that was all he needed. He knew where she was going.

We arrived at the top floor, where a young woman was waiting. “Ada,” she said, leaning forward to kiss my great-aunt on the cheek.

Ada embraced her, then held her away to see me. “Charlotte, darling, this is my niece, Marilyn. And she’s going to need a shore wardrobe.”

“Of course. Right this way.” She looked me over carefully. “A perfect size ten.”

I nodded, and she led us to a private viewing area, with a three-way mirror, changing room, and settee. “Would you prefer coffee or champagne this afternoon?” she asked Ada.

“Coffee.” Ada waggled a finger at her. “You always talk me into things when I choose the champagne.”