Don't Forget to Write: A Novel(71)

Ada pursed her lips. “And his mother will be all over town seven months from now claiming a nine-pound baby was born prematurely.”

Lillian’s lips twitched as she tried not to laugh again. “You’re terrible,” she said to Ada. “But absolutely right.” She turned back to me. “I hear you’ve been writing a novel?”

“You probably heard what it’s about too, since Ada sneaks into my room and reads it.”

“It’s not sneaking if it’s my house,” Ada said. “And it’s quite good. Needs editing of course. But you have a natural voice for storytelling.”

I stared at her. If it wasn’t up to snuff, she would be the first one to say it. And without any niceties couching it to spare my feelings.

“Well, I’m not the type to read something without permission,” Lillian said. “But when you’re ready, I’d love to.”

Thunder boomed again, and this time the power went out.

“Oh for the love of—” Ada said. “It’ll be out all night.”

“And we’ve weathered worse before,” Lillian said. She rose, feeling her way to the mantel, where a candle and matches sat. She struck a match and lit the candle. “Let’s get the rest of these. Is the lantern still in the hall closet?”

“I believe so, unless Frannie moved it.”

“Where is Frannie?” I asked.

“We sent her home as soon as we saw the clouds rolling in,” Lillian said, heading to the closet. She returned with a Coleman lantern, bathing the room in soft light. “We can manage dinner on our own tonight.”

“Everything in the icebox is going to go bad.”

“Then we’ll use what we can and go shopping tomorrow. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Ada scowled at her.

“That’ll cause wrinkles,” I said.

Lillian let out a merry peal of laughter. “I like this one,” she said to Ada. “She’s got spunk, like you.” She turned back to me. “How are you in the kitchen?”

“Terrible.”

“Exactly like your dear aunt,” Lillian said. “But we’ll make do. Ada, let’s open a bottle of wine and see what we can come up with.”





The luminescent dial on my watch told me we were eating dinner early, when we sat down to a meal of a salad, salmon, and corn, but we were on our second bottle of wine and absolutely no one complained. Perhaps it was the wine or the feeling of roughing it in the dark, but everything was delicious. “If Frannie ever decides to leave, you’ll be set,” I told Ada.

“Frannie’s not going anywhere.”

“Why would she?” I agreed. “She gets a beach house. It’s a sweet gig. Even if she has to put up with you.” I put my hand on hers affectionately. She pulled it out from under mine and whacked my arm with it.

“If my company is so inadequate, I don’t understand why you want to stay through the fall.”

Lillian looked at me with great interest. “Really?”

I bit my bottom lip. I was tipsy, but everything had been turned topsy-turvy today. “Maybe. But that one doesn’t want me.”

“I didn’t say that,” Ada said. “I said it was up to your parents.”

“And you know full well Mama will listen to you after—” I stopped myself. I didn’t know how much Lillian knew of our family business, even if she had been clued in on my affair with Freddy.

“I’m sure Rose would take Ada’s advice into consideration,” Lillian said smoothly. She was looking at Ada, not me, but I got the impression she knew exactly what she was talking about.

“If I were so inclined, it’s likely,” Ada agreed. “But I don’t have much tolerance for people who won’t abide by the rules.”

Lillian shook her head. “Oh, Ada, lighten up. If the girl doesn’t want to go back to New York, what good will forcing her do?” She turned to me. “It’ll all work out.”

“She’s been trouble,” Ada argued.

“And you like trouble, so don’t pretend that’s a problem. It’s like you’ve forgotten that forbidding a twenty-year-old to do something is a guarantee that she’ll do it.”

The two women stared at each other for a moment, communicating something I couldn’t understand from their shared past. “I’ll think about it,” Ada conceded.

Lillian patted my leg under the table and winked at me. And just like that, I realized that far from being a threat, she was going to be my biggest ally in this house.





Thoroughly in our cups, we wound up poring over the albums I had made by candlelight. “This is marvelous,” Lillian said. “Truly.”

I glowed under the praise and the warmth of the wine. I had a blanket over me, lying sleepily on the sofa.

I had half dozed off when an exclamation from Lillian woke me. “There I am!”

I sat up. They were only in the second album. I hadn’t gotten close to photographs from the last fifteen years yet. “Where?” I asked.

Lillian pointed to a picture of a group of women in nurse’s uniforms in front of the Trevi Fountain. Ada was in the middle. I recognized her in her youth easily by now. Lillian’s finger tapped one of the younger women, at the edge of the group. “Right there.”