“She unclasped the brooch from her choggori, then she handed it to me. You see, I didn’t understand. I thought I was supposed to return home in a few days. Three or four, at the most.” His voice grew softer. “She didn’t expect me to sell the pin. The rings, yes, but not. . .”
Casey drew breath, then exhaled. It must have been the thirtieth time she’d heard this tale. She made a face. “I know. Not the pin,” she said.
Aghast, Tina nudged her sister’s knee with her own.
“What did you say?” Joseph narrowed the slant of his small, elegant eyes. His sad expression grew cold.
“Nothing,” Casey said. “Nothing.”
Leah pleaded silently with a look, hoping Casey would restrain herself. But her daughter refused to notice her.
Joseph picked up his tumbler for a drink. He wanted to stay with the memory of his mother, the leaf green silk of her jacket, the cool whiteness of the pin. He’d never forget the day he left the jeweler with the bit of money he got in exchange for the pin, his hasty walk to the herbalist to buy the foul-smelling twigs and leaves that never cured his wife.
Wanting to create some distraction, Leah removed her apron and then folded it conspicuously. “Tina, would you pray for us?” she asked.
Tina would have done anything to make Casey control herself. She brushed aside her thick black hair and bowed her head. “Heavenly Father, we thank You for this food. We thank You for our many blessings. Lead us, dear Lord, to Your good service. Show us Your will; let our hearts and minds converge with it. We pray in the name of our dear Redeemer, Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior. Amen.” Privately, Tina wanted God to tell her what she should do with Chul—how she could keep him interested in her without having premarital sex with him, or if he was the one to whom she should give herself. Tina wanted a sign; she’d been praying for guidance for the past several months, but she could discern nothing except her own pressing desire for this boy.
Leah smiled at Tina, then Casey. In her heart, she, too, was praying, Dear God, let there be thanksgiving, because at last, we are together.
Before anyone could eat, Joseph spoke. “So what are you going to do?”
Casey stared at the steam rising from her rice bowl. “I thought I’d try to figure it out this summer. No one’s hiring now, but on Monday, I’m going to the library to write some cover letters for jobs starting in the fall. Sabine also said I could get more hours during the week if someone leaves. Maybe I could work in another department if she—”
“You know the options,” he said.
Casey nodded.
“A real job,” her father said. “Or law school. Selling hats is not a real job. Making eight dollars an hour after getting an education worth eighty thousand dollars is the stupidest thing I have ever heard of. Why did you go to Princeton to sell hairpins?”
Casey nodded again, pulling her lower lip into her mouth. The blood left her face, making it paler.
Leah peered at Joseph’s expression. Was it safe to speak? He hated it when she took the girls’ side.
“Graduation was just last week,” she ventured. “Maybe she could rest a little at home. Just read or watch terebi.” Her voice was faltering. She smiled at her daughter. “Casey had all those exams.” She tried to shore up her voice and sound as if it were the most natural thing in the world for someone in her family to graduate from college and then to figure things out. Casey was staring at her rice bowl but didn’t pick up her spoon. “Why don’t you let her eat?” Leah said carefully. “She’s probably tired.”
“Tired? From that country club?” Joseph scoffed at the absurdity.
Leah shut up. It was useless. She knew from his face that he wouldn’t hear her, nor would he let her win any points in front of the girls. Maybe Tina might say something to help the conversation along. But she looked as if she were somewhere else entirely, chewing her rice with her lips sealed. Even as a child, Tina had been a good eater.
Casey studied the white walls. Every Saturday night, it was her mother’s ritual to wipe down the glossy painted walls with Fantastik.
“Why are you so tired?” Joseph asked Casey, furious that she was ignoring him. “I’m talking to you,” he said.
She glared at him. Enough, she thought. “Schoolwork is work. I’ve always worked hard. . . just as hard as you work at the store. Maybe harder. Do you know what it’s like for me to have to go to a school like that? To be surrounded by kids who went to Exeter and Hotchkiss, their parents belonging to country clubs, and having a dad who could always make a call to save their ass? Do you know what it’s like to ace my courses and to make and keep friends when they think you’re nothing because you’re from nowhere? I’ve had kids step away from me like I’m unwashed after I tell them you manage a dry cleaner. Do you have any idea what it’s like to have people who are supposed to be your equals look through you like you’re made of glass and what they see inside looks filthy to them? Do you have any clue?” Casey was screaming now. She raised her right hand as if to strike him, then she pulled back, having surprised herself. She clasped her hand over her heart, unable to keep from shaking.