Don't Forget to Write: A Novel(27)

“It’s me, Ada.”

“Come in here, please.” I did as she asked, arranging my face placidly as if I had just come from a family dinner with no siblings in the house. Her mouth turned down in a frown as she looked me over. “I believe you had lipstick on when you left this evening.”

My mind was racing, but I kept my face bland. “Came off on my napkin,” I said, thinking fast. “And I left the tube in the bathroom here so I couldn’t reapply.”

She pursed her lips, and for a moment I was sure I was sunk. Then she waved a hand at me to go and returned to her phone call. “Yes, I know. It’s hard for me too.”

I started up the stairs, wondering again who she was always talking to. And what was hard? But I didn’t really care. I wanted to wash my face, change into my nightgown, and dream of Freddy on the beach.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


“I think I’ll join you on the beach today,” Ada said the next morning. Frannie was back, and I was beginning to question why she brought her in to make breakfast. She didn’t eat much of it. Not that I minded. I was famished.

I froze, mid-bite, wondering if I was somehow caught. But there was no way she could know Freddy said he would see me there today, was there? No, she would have had to have been outside with us and she was clearly on the phone. She lowered her newspaper because I hadn’t responded, and I composed my face. “Of course,” I said, smiling innocently. Her eyes narrowed, and she made a small hmmph sound.

When she raised the newspaper back to reading level, I felt my shoulders drop, and I pushed my plate away, appetite gone. I had to tell Freddy we couldn’t see each other. For real. I would never be able to get away with anything. Ada was too wily, and she somehow could read my every move before I made it. I didn’t understand how, but she did.

I just hoped he was smart enough to stay away when he saw me with her.

Getting Ada to the beach was much more of an ordeal than tossing a towel and a bottle of Coppertone into my bag. While she dressed, Frannie prepared a light lunch of sandwiches, bottles of soda, and fruit to take with us, which she packed into an ice-filled Styrofoam cooler.

Then, Frannie helped me lug a wagon out of the shed. In it we packed the cooler, my beach bag, a chair for Ada, and a beach umbrella. “Do you know how to put this up?” Frannie asked me.

I did not. But how hard could it be? I could open a regular umbrella. And you just stuck it in the sand. Frannie eyed me warily. “I’ll be just fine,” I assured her.

Frannie wrung her hands. “I can send my husband to help. Let me just call him.”

I put a hand on her arm. “Frannie. I can handle a walk to the beach and setting up Ada’s things. It’s fine.”

“I wish Lillian were here,” she said.

“Well, she’s not. I am. And I’m not an imbecile. Truly. I’m in college. I can figure out an umbrella and a chair.”

She looked unconvinced, especially as I began trying to drag the wagon over the white rocks of the yard. That part took her pushing while I pulled. But once we reached the sidewalk, it was smooth sailing. “See? Right as rain.”

“You just come back to the house if you need me to call my husband,” she said.

“Shoo,” I said, waving her away. “And don’t you sit at the house waiting for us. Go enjoy the day. I’ve got everything under control until dinner.”

Ada descended the stairs in a caftan covering everything except her head, hands, and feet, and a sun hat so gigantic that I wasn’t sure how she fit through the front door. It took a lot of effort not to laugh.

“What are we waiting for?” she asked. “It’s a beautiful day!”

“Miss Ada, let me send my husband to bring your things. I can call him in a moment.”

“Traitor,” I said quietly. “I can handle it.”

“Take the afternoon off, Frannie,” Ada said gently. “I’m sure Marilyn is quite capable of getting me situated.”

“But—”

“No buts. I want to hear all about the lovely time you had with your family later. Go.” She turned to me. “Don’t prove me wrong.”

“It’s an umbrella, Ada.”

Ten minutes later, I was heavily regretting my words as it fell over for the third time. I stabbed again at the sand. “Why—won’t—it—go—in?”

Ada stood, arms crossed in irritation, as I had also been unable to unfold her chair. And dragging the wagon up the path over the dunes had almost been the death of me.

“There!” I exclaimed finally as the pole seemed stable. I bent to open the top and—the whole thing toppled into the sand and blew away, leaving me to run after it, expelling a stream of profanities that made a mother near us cover her child’s ears and glare at me.

But someone else reached the umbrella before I could. “Need a hand?” Freddy asked.

I glanced over my shoulder. Ada had her sunglasses on, but she appeared to be looking in our direction. “Ada’s here. Pretend we don’t know each other.”

“She knows you got my phone number and knows Shirley is my sister. Probably not the best plan.”

“Fine. Pretend you didn’t kiss me last night.”

“Should I pretend you didn’t kiss me too?”