“I knew that part,” I said tartly.
He suppressed a smile.
“Thank you, Freddy,” Ada said. “You can go back to your actual job now.”
“Yes, ma’am. And don’t forget me if you find anyone as pretty as your niece here.” He winked at her and jogged back to the lifeguard stand.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Ada turned to me. “No.”
“No what?”
She wagged a finger at me. “You know what. Once you gave me his information, he became off limits. And I said no men from the get-go.”
“Ada—”
“Not up for discussion.”
I threw my hands up. “Can I say anything at all?”
“Not if it’s about Freddy Goldman.”
“And if it’s not?”
Ada settled into her chair in the shade of the expertly assembled umbrella. “Then I’m all ears. What would you like to say?” But I had nothing to say anymore and just stood there sputtering. “That’s what I thought. Close your mouth, please. You look like a fish when you keep standing there doing that.”
Angrily, I shook out my towel, taking small pleasure in some sand flying onto Ada, and spread it in the sun several feet from her. I pulled out my book.
“Are you reading a hunting manual?” Ada asked.
I rolled my eyes, then realized she couldn’t see them through my sunglasses. “No.”
“Then what on earth is that?”
“A new book that Mama sent me.”
“You remind me of her. Nose in a book at every opportunity. Except when there’s a boy around.”
I raised my sunglasses to the top of my head to make sure she saw my eye roll this time. “The only time I’ve been around boys, except for Freddy helping with the umbrella, was when you made me go talk to them. That’s not a fair assessment.”
“And what brought you here again?”
I lowered my sunglasses and returned to my book. At least it didn’t insult my virtue.
So wrapped up in the trials and tribulations of Maycomb was I that I didn’t even notice Ada had removed her own novel and was reading—quite a large one at that. I squinted to see the title. Hawaii, by James Michener.
“I didn’t know you read,” I said.
“How impertinent,” Ada said without looking up. “Of course I read.”
“I meant for fun. You don’t keep books around.”
“I do,” she said, turning the page. “But they’re not on public display.”
What does that mean? “Uh, okay.”
“Don’t say uh. It makes you sound uncertain. Speak with assurance and people will treat you as intelligent.”
I willed her umbrella to blow away and land on her head. “Where are your books, then?”
“I have a shelf of them in my room. The rest are boxed in the attic. I donate most of them to the library on the island at the end of each summer.”
“There’s a library here?” I yelped, sitting up. “Where?”
Ada looked at me curiously. “In the basement of the elementary school.” I smiled at the thought that I wouldn’t have to depend entirely on the generosity of my mother for entertainment this summer. Even if it was located in a school’s basement and largely Ada’s hand-me-downs. She sighed. “I suppose you can browse my collection as well.”
Freddy forgotten, I returned happily to reading, the sun shining on my back, the surf crashing in the background, and Ada grumbling periodically about wrinkles.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Eventually, Ada rose from her chair, stretched her arms over her head, and removed her hat and voluminous caftan. “I believe I’ll go for a swim,” she said.
I looked at her curiously as she pulled on a bathing cap. Her swimsuit was a green one-piece, which clung to her wiry frame.
“It’s rude to stare,” she said.
She was facing the ocean, so how did she know I was looking? She turned and grinned at me. “I told you, it’s children that age you.” Then she pointed at the sky. “And that sun you’re sitting under. When you’re my age, you’ll regret not sitting under that umbrella.”
She sauntered to the shore, waded in a couple of feet, and then dove through a wave, surfacing in a strong and sure freestyle stroke.
I turned to the lifeguard stand. Freddy had seen her go in and was climbing off the chair, with a quick word to the other lifeguard. He laughed at something the guard said, then walked over toward me, shaking his head.
“We’ve got a little while,” he said. “She does long swims.”
“How do you know that?”
“She’s down here most mornings, early. You’re not supposed to swim before the guards are out, but, well, we were told to leave her be if we see her out there unless she’s in distress.”
“Still,” I said, looking out to where her white swim cap cut through the water. “You shouldn’t be over here. She sees everything.”
“She can’t possibly.” He leaned in. “No kiss today?”
I shoved him away playfully. “There are children and a very nosy aunt present.”
“They might enjoy the show.”
“I think I see why your sister warned me about you.”
“You can’t listen to anything Shirley says. She probably thinks kissing is how babies are made.”
I shook my head. “If that were true, she’d have a passel of nieces and nephews running around.”
He held a hand to his heart. “I’ll have you know I’m a perfectly virtuous young man. It’s not my fault you’ve stolen my heart.”
“No one virtuous kisses like that. That takes practice.” I couldn’t help but smile at him though. And after the previous night, the way his bronzed torso shone in the sunlight was not lost on me.
“I can’t remember a single girl before you. Were there some? Maybe. You’re the one who matters.”
I knew better. I did. I knew anyone who talked this smoothly was trouble—and I knew it because it was how I had hooked Daniel with no intention of following through on anything. But there was something in the way Freddy never took his eyes off me. The way he watched my mouth as I spoke, as if he wanted to devour my very words. The way he made me feel like the most irresistible girl in the world—the only girl in the world. I couldn’t hold out against that.
“She’s in bed by ten,” I said quietly. “I could slip out after that.”
His lips spread into a smile that I longed to kiss. “I’ll be outside waiting for you.”
“Now shoo, before Ada catches us and ships me back to New York.”
He kissed my cheek quickly and jogged back through the sand.
It was Sunday, and Ada insisted on watching Ed Sullivan, as always. I felt like my insides were vibrating, but I forced myself to sit still and act like I cared about Rosemary Clooney and Dave Barry. I laughed when she laughed, but I was really watching the clock on the mantel behind the television. Would this show never end?
But eventually it did, and Ada turned it off and went up to get ready for bed, which I pretended to do as well.
She turned to me at the top of the stairs, and I held my breath. She knew. Somehow, she knew.