Two lipsticks later, I was back on Market Street, looking at the people going about their daily lives and wondering where they were going and where they had come from. There was a little boy on the corner selling newspapers, and an electronics store with a window full of televisions, a sign above them reading “Watch the future as it happens.”
I stepped off a curb and narrowly missed being hit by a trolley; I was used to the traffic in New York City that could smoothly move around pedestrians with a honk and outburst of profanity from the driver if the pedestrian was in the wrong, an extended finger and outburst of profanity from the pedestrian if the driver was. This would take some getting used to.
But there, across the street, was a sign with the shape of a bell on it. I smiled in my new lipstick.
That smile faded, however, as I reached Independence Hall, after walking along the tree-lined street outside the building where the Constitution was signed. There was no line, and a sign on the door read “Closed for Renovations.”
“Who renovates the Liberty Bell this close to the Fourth of July?” I asked out loud in frustration. I tried the door, but it was locked, the windows papered over to hide the view of what was happening inside.
I stomped my foot, cursing this town, and then turned and made my way back toward the trolley stop for the long ride back to Ada’s house.
When I arrived back, tired, hot, and dirty from nearly two hours of travel time just to get a lipstick, Ada was in the living room, laughing into the phone.
I held out her lipstick wordlessly, and she gestured for me to put it on the table. “Darling, Marilyn is here. I’ll call you back from the bedroom.” She replaced the receiver and rose.
“Who was that?” If it was my mother, I would have liked to have said hello.
“No one you know,” Ada said. “And that’s another impertinent question.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
She turned to look at me. “Two impertinent questions. My, we’re feeling brave today, aren’t we?”
“Well, you called them darling.”
“Darling, I call everyone darling. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
She swept up the stairs grandly, and I heard the door to her bedroom closing.
I looked at the telephone on the table. If I picked it up very quietly, I could listen in.
I waited long enough for her to have dialed and then carefully removed the receiver—but the sound of a dial tone greeted me. I waited and tried again two more times before Sally started barking, at which point I gave up because I couldn’t listen in without that evil little monster giving me away.
With a sigh, I went upstairs to rest until dinnertime. But as I passed Ada’s room, curiosity got the better of me, and I crept back to the door and leaned my ear against it.
I couldn’t make out the words, but I heard the low murmur of her talking, as well as another laugh. I had been outsmarted. There was another phone line in her room.
There was no way to prove it, but I felt my guess had been correct. That wasn’t the laugh of someone talking to a friend. It had a flirtatious lilt to it.
Then again, Ada had seemed to be flirting with Thomas, who was more than fifty years her junior, so what did I know? On my tiptoes, I made my way to my room, shutting the door quietly behind me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Two days later, instead of dismissing me after the morning’s matchmaking work, Ada looked me over again. “Have you got a bathing suit?”
“Of course.”
“With you? Or in New York?”
“Here. Mama said I would need it for the shore.”
“Show me,” she said, rising and leading the way up the stairs.
Uncertainly, I followed her to my bedroom, where she sat at the dressing table chair. I went to the drawer where I had put it and pulled the stretchy fabric out.
Ada pursed her lips. “No. That won’t do at all.”
“Whyever not?”
She rose and gestured for me to follow her. “We’re going to Gimbels.”
I sighed. The absolute last thing I wanted was to be stuffed into some bathing contraption from the Victorian era that covered me from shoulders to knees. The tan lines would be atrocious. “Ada, I like my suit.”
“I don’t recall asking.”
“Or listening,” I grumbled.
“What was that, darling? I wasn’t listening.”
“Nothing,” I said through clenched teeth.
She turned and patted my cheek. “Keep it that way.”
But at least with Thomas not around, I was allowed into the front seat of the Cadillac. Though it was a more terrifying ride with the full, unobstructed view of what we were narrowly missing. I wondered if there were so few cars on the road to avoid the terror that was Ada.
She parked on the street near the store, leaving the top down.
“Aren’t you worried someone will steal the car?”
She looked at me as if I had just asked if she was worried aliens would land and shave her head. “You’re not in New York anymore.”
That much was for sure.
Entering the store with Ada was an entirely new experience. I had been ignored until reaching the makeup counter on my solo journey. But a doorman held the door for her, greeting her by name, and a young woman came rushing over to her. “Miss Heller! I’m so sorry; we didn’t know you were coming.”
“I do like to keep you on your toes.”
She smiled politely, clearly flustered. “I’ll go fetch Charlotte. One moment, please.”
“We’ll meet her upstairs.”
“Of course,” she said, rushing away.
I followed Ada toward an elevator, where a uniformed man stood, ready to push the buttons. I hadn’t seen an elevator operator in years.
“Hello, Miss Heller,” he said, tipping his hat.
“George,” Ada said with a nod. And that was all he needed. He knew where she was going.
We arrived at the top floor, where a young woman was waiting. “Ada,” she said, leaning forward to kiss my great-aunt on the cheek.
Ada embraced her, then held her away to see me. “Charlotte, darling, this is my niece, Marilyn. And she’s going to need a shore wardrobe.”
“Of course. Right this way.” She looked me over carefully. “A perfect size ten.”
I nodded, and she led us to a private viewing area, with a three-way mirror, changing room, and settee. “Would you prefer coffee or champagne this afternoon?” she asked Ada.
“Coffee.” Ada waggled a finger at her. “You always talk me into things when I choose the champagne.”
“Never,” Charlotte said, feigning outrage but giving a conspiratorial wink. “You two sit right here, and I’ll bring a selection right up for you.” She started to leave but turned back to Ada. “And I have a few new things for you to look at as well.”
“Nonsense. We’re here for Marilyn today.”
“Why don’t I just bring them, and we’ll see how you feel?”
Ada smiled. “Maybe it’s not the champagne.”
We sat, and another young woman brought a tray with a silver coffee pot, two cups, and cream and sugar. Ada indicated that I was to pour. I handed hers to her black, looked longingly at the cream and sugar, but took a sip of the plain brew instead. She said nothing but watched approvingly.