“Lucky girl. I guess she had some early lessons,” Irene said.
“Thank you, Irene,” Ruth said.
Harriet stayed quiet, remaining firmly on the fence.
“Well, then,” Shirley said. “I don’t want to interrupt.”
They’d done it! She was leaving. The mother-in-law spy had been deactivated.
“You’re always welcome to pop in,” Lillian said.
Though perspiration gathered at her hairline, Ruth walked over to Shirley and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m glad you stopped by,” she fibbed. She’d have preferred to navigate this day alone, the way she had when her father had dropped her off at a new school, giving Ruth only a kiss on the forehead, as if anointing her, and a thumbs-up demonstrating his confidence in her success. Although, without Shirley’s doubt and intrusion today, Ruth wouldn’t have experienced the staunch support of her new friends. Their expression of solidarity had warmed Ruth—and surprised her.
Shirley grabbed Ruth’s hands. “I just want you to be happy, dear.”
Despite what seemed to be affection, Ruth remained wary. On alert. She hadn’t forgotten how Shirley had given her a warning—disguised as advice—on the first afternoon she had arrived in town, while helping Ruth make up a bed for the newlyweds.
“You’ll do best to learn our ways,” Shirley had said, as if Ruth had moved to Appalachia from New York, instead of to Philadelphia. “It’s what Asher will expect.”
Ruth tried to appear unfazed as she smoothed the coverlet. “Of course.” She’d been with Asher since college—five years. They’d been married since June. Certainly, their ways were copacetic.
“We wouldn’t want him to be disappointed now, would we?” Shirley had asked.
We?
In that moment, as Shirley straightened the quilt that Ruth had already adjusted, Ruth realized exactly whom she risked disappointing.
She understood that the very survival of Wynnefield’s matriarchal society depended on pleasing her mother-in-law. And Ruth’s job wasn’t to change society, but simply to tolerate it, as had generations before her.
Chapter 6
LILLIAN
Lillian moved gracefully as she led Shirley from the living room back into the kitchen, the clicks of their heels pronounced on the imported tile floor after being muffled by carpet.
“I get the hint; I’m going.” Shirley lifted Sunny’s carefully wrapped apple cake and nodded to the housekeeper. When Sunny unlatched the back door, its recently oiled hardware added barely a murmur to the conversation.
Lillian hoped her message to Shirley had been received as more than a hint—that it had been as clear as the sky. She could handle the girls on her own. Recently, Lillian had begun to feel as if they needed guiding more than handling, but that notion discomfited her as somehow conspiratorial, so she kept it to herself.
“I want you to know you can count on me,” Lillian said as Shirley hesitated in the doorway. “And that you can trust me with anything.”
“I do know,” Shirley said. “Don’t forget to finish the lesson. Or to schedule your outing. We want everyone up to par by the holidays, if possible.”
That gave her less than three weeks. “Oh, it’s possible, Shirl.” The pressure on Lillian’s psyche returned. Nothing would interfere with the girls being the best dressed and most charming at Rosh Hashanah services and fall social events. “I’d better get back.”
Sunny locked the door after Shirley left. “She’s a pip.”
Lillian chuckled. “She just wants everything on her terms, her way. It’s what she’s used to. Like my grandmother.”
Sunny lifted her eyebrows and lowered them without saying a word about Lillian’s Gran.
When Lillian’s mother went away, it was Gran who’d stepped in to raise Lillian, who’d sent her to college, and who’d urged her to marry Peter the summer after her graduation.
Sunny wiped her hands on her apron. “This isn’t new, you know. Mrs. Appelbaum has been watching your every move for years.”
“She has?”
Sunny nodded. “And she’s very generous with her two cents.” She clapped a hand over her mouth.
Lillian laughed. “I never noticed until now.”
“I shouldn’t have to remind you,” Sunny whispered, “but this is your house; those are your girls.”
Lillian walked into the living room and looked around. Such a disparate group. I wonder if the girls might do best if they belong to themselves, she thought. Lillian knew this was a real departure from her usual way of thinking. But her thoughts of independence were confirmed by Ruth and the other girls. At least when they’d finished the course, they’d have one thing in common—social graces.
Lillian lit another cigarette and settled on the sofa across from the girls. She knew her grace looked effortless, as if she sat atop the sofa cushion, instead of sinking into it like the rest of them. The illusion took practice. And strong calf muscles.
“Sorry about the interruption,” Lillian said. “In spite of it, we’ve had a nice start today. I’m glad you all agree things should stay as they are. I’m sorry if it creates any backlash at home, Ruth.”
Ruth looked back at Lillian and smiled. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll be fine.”
“Ruth doesn’t deserve to be spied on, and neither do you,” Irene said.
Goodness gracious! Such a dramatic interpretation of events. Still, Lillian had wanted the girls to be friends, and lickety-split, they were. The speed was remarkable.
All they’d needed was a common cause.
Chapter 7
RUTH
Ruth turned off the car engine and peered out the windshield at the supermarket in front of her. Busy housewives bustled back and forth, entering the wide doors, coming out with their purchases, some with toddlers in tow. Everyone doing their best to be the perfect family. To fit in with everyone else.
She walked inside the store, eyed the merchandise, and double-checked the grocery list Shirley had given her.
McIntosh apples 3 lbs. No bruises.
Golden Delicious 3 lbs.
Sunkist navel oranges 5 lbs. No dents.
Pink grapefruit 4. Not the yellow.
Chiquita bananas 4–6. No brown spots.
Ruth bristled at having everything spelled out for her as if she needed direction, but she was still glad to be trusted with this task. Shirley wouldn’t have asked her a couple of days ago.
She was even happier to notice the back of Carrie, with her telltale blonde hair and green scarf. Connecting with Carrie and others earlier that day had been a tonic for her loneliness, a surprising highlight for Ruth since her arrival in Philadelphia.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Ruth said as she pushed her cart next to Carrie’s.
Carrie smiled and motioned for Ruth to join her. They strolled to the apple bins and compared Golden Delicious green to McIntosh red. They heartily agreed the former worked better for cooking, the latter for noshing. They laughed about it.
Carrie leaned in. “Kind of absurd that your mother-in-law was there today. I think you handled it really well.”
“Are you kidding? I was totally farmisht.”
“You couldn’t tell.” Carrie chuckled. “You looked cool as a cucumber.”