He nodded. “I’ll walk you out. And I’d best not hear about this or find out you’re reporters.”
“Of course not, darling. But you’ve given this girl a precious memory, and we both thank you for that.”
He tipped his hard hat to us at the door, then retreated to the cooler air of some unseen office when we walked out.
“How did you do that?” I asked once we were safely back around the front of the building.
She smiled. “You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. And don’t ever let anyone tell you we’re the weaker sex.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
There was a letter bearing my mother’s flowing script waiting for me when we returned to the house. I grabbed it and made a beeline for my room, where I flopped onto the bed and tore open the envelope, inhaling the scent of her perfume that rose from the page.
Dearest Marilyn,
I hope you are enjoying Philadelphia more than when you first wrote. I know it’s a change, but you will adapt beautifully. Your father is still angry, of course, and vowing he can never return to Beth Shalom. Personally, I think he just likes being able to sleep in on Saturdays and read the newspaper. But I’m working on him.
I have sent several books that I believe you will enjoy along to the shore house, as well as your radio. It didn’t make sense to send them to the Philadelphia house just for you to pack and move them in a few days’ time.
Try to enjoy yourself. I know this wasn’t how you wanted to spend the summer, but I think you’ll find this is actually a welcome respite once you settle in.
Love always,
Mama
PS: If Ada took your lipstick, far be it from me to replace it.
I made a face at the postscript. I had held out hope of wearing my signature color when I wasn’t around Ada. But at least I would have entertainment when confined to my room at night, unlike now, when I got an hour of television—whatever Ada watched—after our nightly prowls for available men, then was sent off to bed like a child.
I went to refold the letter when I realized there was a second postscript on the back.
PPS: Do not let Ada see you write a return address like that. If she sends you home now, I don’t know what your father will do.
Grimacing, I shoved the letter back into its envelope and grabbed my stationery to send a reply thanking her for the books and radio. Excited, if for nothing else, that in a few days I would have a distraction.
When the day came to leave for the shore, it looked like a mass exodus as families were running up and down stairs with suitcases and other bags all along the street, which was now lined with the first taxis I had seen since arriving, as well as private cars.
“Does everyone leave on the same day?” I asked as I loaded our suitcases into the car. We had sent trunks along ahead with most of our things so that we wouldn’t need help unloading when we arrived.
“The women and children do. The men tend to come down for the weekends.”
“How will we work if there are no men most of the week?”
Ada lowered her sunglasses and winked. “Much more efficiently.”
Suitably prepared for her driving this time with sunglasses and scarves, the two of us matched as Ada peeled out of the parking spot in front of her duplex and careened skillfully around the other cars and down the street, Sally sitting between us on the bench seat.
The traffic lessened considerably once we left Ada’s neighborhood. “How long is the drive?”
“About two hours. The train is faster, of course, but I want my car. And the train only goes to Atlantic City now.”
“Isn’t that where we’re going?”
“No.” She glanced over at me. “You’d probably enjoy that better—more nightlife. But no.”
“Then where?”
“Avalon.” When I looked at her funny, she said, “You’ll love it. You complain too much.”
“I didn’t say a word,” I said coolly. “Will King Arthur be there?”
She took her eyes off the road for far too long for my liking. “I don’t follow.”
“You didn’t read The Once and Future King?” I realized I hadn’t seen a single book in her house. “Sorry. It’s a book that came out a couple of years ago. About King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table and Guinevere and—”
She held up a hand. “I’m familiar with the story. Arthur and his knights do predate me believe it or not. But I don’t tend to read children’s books.”
I shook my head at her dismissal. “Avalon is where Arthur goes at the end to be reborn as the future king.”
“I believe your parents hope the one in New Jersey is where their prodigal daughter will go to be reborn as a good little girl who listens to them and marries the rabbi’s son.”
“I’d as soon kiss a pig.”
“We can arrange that. There’s a lot of farmland to pass through.”
I laughed, the feeling of the wind and the open road proving a balm to my soul. “Imagine Daddy’s reaction to that. Kissing and pork. Poor man would have a stroke.”
“We wouldn’t want that. Although your mother could do better.”
“You don’t like my father? You called him a fuddy-duddy before.”
She lowered her glasses again. “What would you call him?”
I didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know. He’s my father.”
Ada sighed. “And I knew your mother before him. She was so full of life.” She glanced at me, and I felt the weight of what she was implying. “I understand why she wanted the stability of marrying him. Don’t get me wrong. It’s what most of the women who bring their daughters to me want. But for Rose, I wanted more.”
“More?”
“Love. Passion. All of it.”
“She loves Daddy,” I said defensively. Didn’t she? The opposite was obviously true. He was smitten with her, going along with buying those ovens rather than believing it could be her fault when the brisket was too dry again. And she was the only one who could smooth him over when he was upset. I certainly couldn’t. Granted, I was usually the reason he was upset. But I never saw them show affection. I had always chalked it up to the era they grew up in. But the pitying look Ada was giving me made me wonder.
We rode in silence for the next half hour as Philadelphia changed to Camden, then to marshes and farms.
I had so many questions I wanted to ask, but Ada had made it clear she wasn’t answering any about my mother.
“Do you like ice cream?” Ada asked suddenly, breaking my reverie.
I checked my watch. It was only ten o’clock in the morning. “Yes.”
“Good. The two best ice cream parlors you’ll ever see are on the island.”
“I thought cream was bad for you.”
Ada laughed. “This is worth it.”
“Avalon is an island?”
“All of the shore towns are. But Avalon is special. It’s a mile further out than the others, so the temperature is always cooler.” She fell silent for a moment. “It’s changed a lot since your mother was here. The storm in 1944 wiped out a good chunk of the pier. They rebuilt, of course, but it isn’t the same.”