Don't Forget to Write: A Novel(57)

“In other news,” Ada continued, “Lillian arrives next week.”

I was curious to meet her, but I also didn’t want her to join us. I liked having Ada to myself, and I didn’t want someone who wasn’t family coming in and upsetting the dynamic. Something had shifted between us since the Freddy situation, and I enjoyed the closeness we had found—even if we spent less time together in the mornings.

“She’s wrapped everything up in Chicago?”

Ada nodded. “They found a buyer for her mother’s house. Her mother didn’t have much, but should Lillian ever leave me, she’ll be comfortable at least.”

“How does your arrangement work anyway? Will she retire someday?”

“I doubt it. I would assume we’ll live out the rest of our lives together. She enjoys our arrangement as much as I do.”

“But you pay her?”

“It’s—”

“Impertinent to discuss money, yes, I know. I’m not asking how much. I’m just asking how it works.”

“I’m afraid that is our business. Lillian is quite content with her life as it is. As am I.”

I changed tacks, wondering if I would be able to get more information out of Lillian herself or if she would be as cantankerous as Ada. “You said once you weren’t ready to retire. Do you think you ever will?”

“Lillian thinks I should.”

“But you don’t agree?”

Ada looked past me pensively. “I think I’ll know when it’s time. I’m not there yet. But I have a little place in Key West waiting if we get to that point.”

“Why Key West?”

“Because Havana is too iffy these days. I’m too old for Europe and the like, and I never did care for Palm Springs. And in Key West, no one cares who you were before. You can just disappear and exist without the world watching.”

I was surprised at Ada wanting anonymity. She thrived on the recognition she received everywhere she went. Without it, I assumed she would shrivel up like a raisin.

“But in all likelihood, I’ll stay here,” Ada continued. “If demand dries up or I grow tired of being Ada Heller, well then, Key West is waiting. Though I don’t see marriages going out of fashion anytime soon.”

“Does anyone ever question the fact that you never married, yet you’re the expert on what makes a happy marriage?”

Ada grinned. “Once in a while. I just explain that I can’t match myself and I wasn’t going to settle for someone inferior to an Ada Heller match.”

“You said you’ve been in love though.”

“I have. Twice, in fact.”

“Then why didn’t you get married?”

“Because love alone won’t always make a good marriage.” She pushed her chair back from the table. “Enough questions for today. I have work to do.”

Frannie cleared the dishes while I remained at the table, trying to figure out exactly what she meant by that—especially because the main character in my writing was just now falling in love. What secrets did I need to know to make her actually be able to find happiness?

I shook my head. I could write a seduction from experience now, but I still knew nothing about being in love. When I eventually rose from the table, I went back to the photographs, thinking that when I finally found these two loves of Ada’s, I would be able to learn enough to write it convincingly.





CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT


It was early afternoon when I heard the knock on the door. I was packing my bag to head to the beach, but I ran down the stairs. We had been getting deliveries at all hours in preparation for Lillian’s arrival, and Ada had set me to work with Frannie airing out her room—it was the second-largest bedroom and located directly next to Ada’s—and washing all the linens. But it seemed we had done most of what needed doing now, and I was anxious to dig into one of the newest books that Mama had sent.

“Lillian’s trunks are here,” I shouted up to Ada, skidding to a stop at the front door.

“Don’t yell room to room,” Ada yelled back.

I chuckled and flung the door open. “If you don’t mind bringing them upst—” My eyes widened.

Daniel Schwartz stood on the porch, a bouquet of white roses in his hand.

“No,” I said, slamming the door shut just as Ada was coming down the stairs.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “Have him bring the bags in!”

“It’s not—” But it was too late. Ada had opened the door.

She stopped and looked Daniel up and down. He was dressed in slacks and a short-sleeved button-down shirt, which Ada gave an approving nod. She gestured to the flowers. “I assume you’re not here to bring Mrs. Miller’s bags.”

“I’m afraid not,” Daniel said. “I’m here to see Marilyn.”

Ada looked from him to me to him again before holding out her hand. “Ada Heller. And I believe you’re the infamous rabbi’s son.”

I groaned internally. The handshake was a sure sign of approval. I wondered if I could just run away and never come back. Key West sounded nice.

“I see my reputation precedes me. Yes. Daniel Schwartz.”

“Daniel? Or Dan?”