Don't Forget to Write: A Novel(32)

I looked over the cards, wondering how she got some of that information from the interviews we had conducted together. “But you don’t ask all those questions.”

“When you’ve done this long enough, you don’t have to. Remember Stella? The one with the horrible mother and who liked Doris Day and Rock Hudson?” I nodded. “If she were a reader, she would have mentioned a book, not a movie, when she said she didn’t have a television. And her choice of a movie tells me she likes to laugh and is more modern than her mother.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Formally? Forty years. Informally? Much longer than that.”

Forty years ago she would have been thirty-five. “What did you do before that?”

“I was a nurse. Then the Great War broke out, and I went to Europe. My father died while I was overseas. He only had daughters and the rest were married, so I inherited the bulk of his estate. I used some of it to start my business and invested the rest.”

“Didn’t the stock market crash wipe you out?”

She shook her head. “I told you. Land is always a good investment.”

I looked at her in awe. I had never known a businesswoman before. I had known secretaries and nurses and teachers. But not someone who fully managed her own finances for a lifetime without the help of a man. Without a father or husband, credit would be largely out of her reach. But she had built an empire that survived the worst economic crisis of our country through her own shrewdness—something that most of the men had lacked. “Was it hard?”

Ada sighed. “It still is. But the only things in life that are worth it are hard. It was worth it to maintain my independence. And now I can help others.”

She drove me nuts. But I also admired her more than anyone I had ever met.

When I retreated to the kitchen to make myself coffee and some toast, I mulled over her system, thinking about how I would grade Freddy. He certainly didn’t seem to be particularly attached to his family. I hated the idea of not living in New York or near Mama, but he could probably be convinced. Neither of us showed much interest in religion. I didn’t know if he enjoyed reading—I wanted someone who did; Daddy had no interest in the books Mama wanted to talk about. Attractiveness was no issue. Neither was sense of humor. The social class thing—well, Ada had said that could be negotiable. And I certainly didn’t care. Besides, he was going to go into either business or law school. This was America. Anyone could be anything.

Then I realized how foolish I was being. We had gone on one secret date. I shook my head. A little fun was one thing, but I wasn’t planning to fall in love.

“Are you done in there yet?” Ada called. “We should go to the beach. They do a boat parade.”

“Let me just eat my toast and throw on my bathing suit,” I yelled back.

“Don’t yell from room to room! It’s rude!”

I laughed, shaking my head.





CHAPTER TWENTY


The fireworks show over the ocean was no match for that over the Hudson, but it was on par with the ones I had seen in the Catskills as a child, so it wasn’t hard to feign interest for Ada. Though I did keep peeking around the dark beach as children darted around waving sparklers, drunk on ice cream and the late hour. Freddy would likely be with his family, three blocks away. And I didn’t dare interact with him while I was with Ada. But it didn’t stop me from looking.

Tuesday morning was back to business as usual, Ada reminding me before bed to set that alarm clock, which went off promptly at seven. Ada was already at the table, as always, her newspaper in front of her face, her coffee half-drunk, her toast untouched.

“Ada,” I said. “When you went for a swim the other day, Freddy said you swim every morning?”

She didn’t lower the paper. “You seem awfully chummy with that Goldman boy.”

I could have kicked myself. “I told him to leave me alone and go do his job, which was watching you swim.”

“I don’t need to be watched. I’m an excellent swimmer. And if a shark gets me, I’ve lived my life.”

“Yes, that’s about what he said. I’m just curious. Do you actually swim every day?”

The newspaper didn’t budge. “Weather permitting.”

Frannie placed a plate of food in front of me, and I thanked her. She had made muffins with fresh Jersey blueberries, which looked and smelled heavenly. I took a bite, savoring the explosion of flavor as a berry opened.

Apparently the talkativeness of the previous morning had not extended to today. I didn’t see Ada’s face until she rose to prepare for the day’s clients. A single errant curl at the nape of her neck was the only clue that perhaps she had been near water that morning.

The curl had been subdued by the time the first girl and her mother arrived. I observed both Ada and the girl, this one plump and cheerful, confident Ada would have no trouble finding her someone, through new eyes having gotten a glimpse at Ada’s methods.

“Do you enjoy dinner parties?” Ada asked.

“I adore them,” she said. “Especially hosting. I love cooking and seeing others enjoy what I’ve made.”

Needs someone social, I wrote.

“Do you have a favorite book?”

A quick, panicked look entered her eyes. Ada’s face didn’t change, but I knew she saw it too. “Let me think,” she said. “Honestly, it was probably something from school.”