Ada sighed. “It still is. But the only things in life that are worth it are hard. It was worth it to maintain my independence. And now I can help others.”
She drove me nuts. But I also admired her more than anyone I had ever met.
When I retreated to the kitchen to make myself coffee and some toast, I mulled over her system, thinking about how I would grade Freddy. He certainly didn’t seem to be particularly attached to his family. I hated the idea of not living in New York or near Mama, but he could probably be convinced. Neither of us showed much interest in religion. I didn’t know if he enjoyed reading—I wanted someone who did; Daddy had no interest in the books Mama wanted to talk about. Attractiveness was no issue. Neither was sense of humor. The social class thing—well, Ada had said that could be negotiable. And I certainly didn’t care. Besides, he was going to go into either business or law school. This was America. Anyone could be anything.
Then I realized how foolish I was being. We had gone on one secret date. I shook my head. A little fun was one thing, but I wasn’t planning to fall in love.
“Are you done in there yet?” Ada called. “We should go to the beach. They do a boat parade.”
“Let me just eat my toast and throw on my bathing suit,” I yelled back.
“Don’t yell from room to room! It’s rude!”
I laughed, shaking my head.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The fireworks show over the ocean was no match for that over the Hudson, but it was on par with the ones I had seen in the Catskills as a child, so it wasn’t hard to feign interest for Ada. Though I did keep peeking around the dark beach as children darted around waving sparklers, drunk on ice cream and the late hour. Freddy would likely be with his family, three blocks away. And I didn’t dare interact with him while I was with Ada. But it didn’t stop me from looking.
Tuesday morning was back to business as usual, Ada reminding me before bed to set that alarm clock, which went off promptly at seven. Ada was already at the table, as always, her newspaper in front of her face, her coffee half-drunk, her toast untouched.
“Ada,” I said. “When you went for a swim the other day, Freddy said you swim every morning?”
She didn’t lower the paper. “You seem awfully chummy with that Goldman boy.”
I could have kicked myself. “I told him to leave me alone and go do his job, which was watching you swim.”
“I don’t need to be watched. I’m an excellent swimmer. And if a shark gets me, I’ve lived my life.”
“Yes, that’s about what he said. I’m just curious. Do you actually swim every day?”
The newspaper didn’t budge. “Weather permitting.”
Frannie placed a plate of food in front of me, and I thanked her. She had made muffins with fresh Jersey blueberries, which looked and smelled heavenly. I took a bite, savoring the explosion of flavor as a berry opened.
Apparently the talkativeness of the previous morning had not extended to today. I didn’t see Ada’s face until she rose to prepare for the day’s clients. A single errant curl at the nape of her neck was the only clue that perhaps she had been near water that morning.
The curl had been subdued by the time the first girl and her mother arrived. I observed both Ada and the girl, this one plump and cheerful, confident Ada would have no trouble finding her someone, through new eyes having gotten a glimpse at Ada’s methods.
“Do you enjoy dinner parties?” Ada asked.
“I adore them,” she said. “Especially hosting. I love cooking and seeing others enjoy what I’ve made.”
Needs someone social, I wrote.
“Do you have a favorite book?”
A quick, panicked look entered her eyes. Ada’s face didn’t change, but I knew she saw it too. “Let me think,” she said. “Honestly, it was probably something from school.”
“That’s fine,” Ada said smoothly. “Movies? Television shows?”
“Oh my goodness, that’s much easier. Let me see . . .” She began rattling off a list of generic comedies.
No education beyond high school, I wrote. Doesn’t read. Wants a sense of humor, but nothing dry or sarcastic.
When we finished for the morning, Ada flipped through my notes as she always did, but this time she nodded approvingly. “You’re a fast study.”
“I do try.”
“I’ll have to watch my back. You’ll be my competition before long.”
I had no interest whatsoever in matchmaking. Nor did I believe for a moment that I could do what she did. If a girl came in with a domineering mother, I’d probably tell the girl to run away and start her own life. And I could never knowingly send someone into a meeting with someone I found repugnant.
But Ada’s praise was seldom given and never undeservedly. And there was no higher compliment than seeing me as potential competition. If I ducked my head in modesty, the corner of her mouth would turn down—which was just fine, as modesty wasn’t exactly my forte. Instead, I laughed. “Apples and oranges. No one can do what you do.”
She turned me loose after lunch, citing my becoming too good at her line of work to be allowed to be involved, but she said it with a wink. “Take an umbrella to the beach,” she warned.
“I will,” I lied merrily.
Ada shook her head. “It’ll be 2015 when you’re my age. And I’ll be long dead. But you’ll look in the mirror one day and think, I should have listened to Ada.”
“Oh, Ada,” I said. “You’re far too cantankerous to die. You’ll make it to a hundred and thirty for sure, and then you can tell me yourself.”
She swatted at me and told me to get out, but she was laughing. “You should be so lucky.”
I was smiling as I walked to the beach sans umbrella. I was lucky my parents had banished me here. And not just because Freddy came jogging over soon after I set up my towel in the sand and picked me up, swirling me around in a kiss.
“Why, Mr. Goldman,” I said, feigning shock. “In broad daylight? What will the neighbors think?”
“That Freddy Goldman has finally settled down,” he said, flopping onto my towel. “I have an hour break. Thanks for setting up such a great nap spot.”
I pouted, kicking sand over his foot. He opened his right eye to look at me. “You could always sleep with me. All puns intended.”
“Freddy Goldman!”
He leaned up on his elbows. “Was worth a shot. Come on. Let’s walk down to the jetty. Sometimes you can find crabs at low tide.” He stood up and took my hand, and we strolled leisurely down the beach together.
When I arrived back at the house, I yelled a hello to Ada, who yelled back that I wasn’t to yell room to room, and went upstairs to shower. But when I entered my bedroom to grab my bathrobe, I stopped short.
On the dressing table was a baby blue portable Underwood typewriter, an unopened ream of paper next to it. As if in a trance, I approached it, running my fingers over the feel of the new keys.
“Do you like it?” Ada asked from the doorway. “I suppose we’ll need to get you a proper desk, too, though I chose this model so you could write anywhere.”
I swallowed. “I—I don’t know what to say. This is for me?”