Chapter 8
RUTH
At twenty-five after eight in the morning, Ruth walked up the path of Carrie’s brick house, called a twin in Philadelphia, though her brothers had called duplexes like these double trouble in New York. She carried a tinfoil-wrapped bundle carefully—Shirley’s swirl kamish bread, another Philly term to get used to. Back home, they called it mandel bread. Ruth had to admit she did enjoy her mother-in-law’s recipe, as the texture was softer than biscotti, perfect for dunking but wouldn’t break your teeth. And who didn’t love the taste of almonds?
Carrie waved from her side of the long, covered patio, where she sat on a chair, waiting. Steam rose from two cups on the small table beside her. Efficient. Prepared.
Ruth presented the small packet to Carrie.
“Thank you.” Carrie’s pink polished nails were as shiny as the silver corner she lifted. She peeked inside and sniffed. “Yum.”
“I didn’t bake them.” In that moment, Ruth wished she had.
“I didn’t grow the coffee beans.” Carrie shooed away Ruth’s unease and they laughed. Cream, sugar, napkins, and spoons were set on the table as well. “How do you like your coffee?”
“Thanks for this,” Ruth said. “I take both.” She fixed her coffee and sipped.
Carrie crossed her leg and held her cup at her knee, a casual yet elegant posture. “Thank you for suggesting this. I’m sorry I hesitated yesterday. I don’t have many girlfriends.”
“You’re new here, like me. I’m sure you will in time. This is a good start, don’t you think?” Ruth was hopeful. She wanted a friend—a confidante. Not a best friend, necessarily. Dotsie could never be replaced, and that would be asking a lot of any new relationship, but Carrie could be an in addition to, like a second-best friend. After meeting yesterday, and after just a few minutes sitting side by side this morning, Ruth felt secure and comfortable, like she and Carrie had developed a kinship almost at first sight.
“How do you like Wynnefield?” Ruth stirred her coffee with a piece of kamish bread and bit the softened cookie in half, enjoying the extra sweetness it gave to the meeting.
“It’s nice,” Carrie said. “This part of town is a little fancier than I’m used to, but Eli wanted one of the bigger twins. He thought it looked better with his position.”
“What do you think?” Ruth asked.
Carrie seemed surprised by the question. “I’m sure it’s lovely, I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.” Again, she shooed away any concerns with a flick of her wrist.
“Do you miss Atlantic City?” Ruth asked.
“Not really. Well, I miss my parents. And my sister. And my nieces. And the ocean and the boardwalk, even the sand.” Carrie broke into a wide grin followed by a droopy frown. “I guess I miss it more than I realized. But talking about it would hurt Eli’s feelings.”
“How so?”
“Eli wants our life to be enough for me. If I talk about home, he thinks I’m not happy here.”
“And are you? Unhappy, I mean.” Ruth quickly added, “Sometimes I miss New York. That doesn’t mean I don’t like it here. I even missed my privacy when we first got married.”
Maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but Carrie’s silence prompted the fib.
“Oh my God, me too,” Carrie said. “So what do you miss about New York?”
How much should she divulge?
“I miss school,” Ruth said. “I miss the opportunities.”
“You’re smart, I can tell,” Carrie said. “The way you spoke at Lillian’s yesterday. You’ll do great here. You’ll make your own opportunities.”
Ruth was used to hearing she was smart. She hoped the rest was true. “You’re smart too—you went to nursing school.”
“Any girl with a little sense and a roll of bandages can be a nurse.”
Ruth was startled by the self-effacing comment. “You don’t believe that!”
Carrie sank into the chair as if it were too big for her. “No, not really,” she said.
“You mustn’t say things like that; it’s unfair to you. Becoming a nurse is a wonderful accomplishment. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“It’s easier that way.” Something in Carrie’s voice hinted at sadness. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Carrie suddenly looked older—worn, even—which troubled Ruth.
“Maybe I would. You can trust me.”
Carrie shrugged.
Ruth would have to take the first step. “What if I tell you a secret first?” When Carrie raised an eyebrow, Ruth continued. “I went to law school. Actually, graduated at the top of my class.”
“What?” Carrie was frowning. “And Asher knows?”
Ruth chuckled. As if she could have kept law school a secret. “Of course he knows. When we met, I was already planning to go to law school. But my in-laws don’t know I’m going to take the bar exam and look for a job.”
When Carrie nodded, Ruth knew she had a trusted ally.
“Do you think Asher will allow it?”
Allow it? Permission had never been part of their relationship. “Of course. Asher’s all for it.”
Carrie seemed to ponder something. “No offense,” she said. “Who hires lady lawyers?”
“I guess I’ll find out.”
The girls shared an easy laugh.
“Please don’t say anything,” Ruth said. Though she trusted Carrie, theirs was a friendship in its infancy. She felt the air pressure release from the balloon that was inside her. “We can’t let his parents find out before we tell them ourselves. That would be a disaster that may never be forgiven.”
Carrie drew an imaginary X on her chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Chapter 9
LILLIAN
Alone in the living room the day after the lessons, Lillian stepped into a warm ray of midafternoon sun. Normally she’d welcome its glow, but she wasn’t feeling quite right. Her fingers were icy. She closed her eyes against the glare, and colorful sparkles danced on the inside of her eyelids like personal fireworks. Her heart pattered and she struggled to catch her breath, once, twice, three times.
She opened her eyes and reached into the end table drawer for a cigarette, certain to calm her nerves. Sunny was in the kitchen preparing dinner, so Lillian had a few moments to pull herself together. She might as well use them. She grabbed her lighter.
This smoking habit had snuck up on her about ten years ago, when it started seeming less of a choice and more of a necessity. What bothered Lillian more than the cigarettes was the fact she used them when she was flustered or anxious. Like now.
Was this how it had started for her mother?
No. Shortness of breath and occasional unease were not the same as a nervous breakdown. She was no longer going to push her feelings aside. This new resolve made her anxious.
Besides, she was worrying for nothing. The first etiquette lesson had gone well, even if she had to ask Shirley to go home. It wasn’t so much that Lillian had wanted Shirley to leave, as that Lillian had wanted to handle the etiquette class on her own.
Well, maybe that was the same thing.