I could see her wavering. She didn’t want to babysit me while helping her friend. And she hadn’t figured out a plan for the dog. “That’s all you’re allowed to do.”
“Can I get ice cream with Shirley?”
She pointed a finger at me. “Don’t push it.” Then she went back to her desk. “I’ll make that list for you. And I need to get a train. And pack—Frannie, can you come help me, please?”
Frannie came in, wiping her hands on her apron. “Of course, Miss Ada.”
“I’ll go make those calls now,” I said, retreating to the den to start calling families.
But I was worried she would be able to hear how fast my heart was beating from the other room.
Ada left the following morning, amid a frenzy of packing and last-minute instructions. “Frannie will look in on you every day,” Ada warned. “And she’s got strict instructions to call me if a single hair looks out of place.”
“Just go,” I told her. “I’ll be fine. Take care of your friend.”
She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and nodded tightly. I pulled her in for a hug that she did not reciprocate before she climbed into the car and put on her sunglasses.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off at the train station?”
She lowered the sunglasses to look at me. “You’d be walking back if you did.” Returning the glasses to her eyes, she began backing out of the driveway. “No one drives this car but me. And remember: no guests, no dates, and no Freddy Goldman.”
I felt her eyes piercing me through my sunglasses. “What about a different Beach Patrol boy?”
“You’re not funny,” she called from the street as she put the car into drive and pulled away.
“I thought that was funny,” I muttered as I watched the bumper of her car disappear around the corner.
But for the next few glorious days, Ada would be the least of my worries. It wasn’t even ten when I went upstairs and changed into my bathing suit, packing my bag with my towel and a new bottle of Coppertone that I had purchased at Hoy’s, the island’s 5 & 10, after finishing the last of the old bottle.
I padded to the bathroom, slipped my thumb into the bottom of my suit, and pulled it down, studying the crisp line where my skin turned pale. I looked at the little girl on the Coppertone bottle and smiled. Sally would be all too happy to bite me right there if I presented her the opportunity to re-create the image.
Which reminded me, I needed to walk Sally. And the only grass to be found anywhere was on the median strips up on Dune Drive. “Don’t bite,” I said gently as I slipped the leash onto her collar. She and I had been getting on better. Which Ada believed was a testament to Sally’s good nature, not my character being adequate to meet her approval. But the dog allowed me to take her to do her business before I headed down to the beach.
I grabbed the copy of Goodbye, Columbus that my mother had mailed me and put it in my bag as well. Somewhat scandalous. You probably shouldn’t read this one. But c’est la guerre, my mother had written on the title page. Nothing could make me want to read a book more. Though to be honest, the book was the last thing on my mind.
It took effort not to skip the entire way up the dune path, run to the lifeguard stand, and throw myself at Freddy, re-creating the scene from From Here to Eternity that I had thought of the night he first kissed me.
But I wanted to get the full effect of telling him that I was home alone. So I spread my towel in the sun and started the book, waiting for him to notice me. Which didn’t take long. Through my sunglasses, I saw when he looked over his shoulder, then a smile spread across his face as he leaned over to say something to his chairmate before climbing down.
“Don’t you ever actually work?” I asked, sitting up as he reached me.
“I’m working right now,” he said, nudging my legs so he could sit on the towel. “I’m making sure you don’t drown.”
“On dry land?”
“You never know. Drownings can happen anywhere.”
“In that case, I might need more protection. Maybe dinner tonight?”
He turned his head, looking at me sideways. “Don’t tell me Ada finally came around?”
“Now, you know better than that.”
“Then I’m afraid I don’t understand. Do you want to come to my house?”
I shook my head. “Ada’s gone for the week. Her friend’s mother died.”
The smile that spread across his face was worth everything. “I’ll pick you up at six,” he said. “There’s this Italian restaurant down in Cape May . . .” He kissed his fingertips, then spread them in the air, his eyes alight with possibilities.
“Sounds lovely.”
He leaned in and kissed me.
I shaved my legs with extra attention in the shower after the beach, then lay on the upper deck’s lounge chair in a light robe to dry my hair in the sun before getting dressed. I selected my fanciest girdle, the one that cinched my waist down to practically nothing, and the seafoam-green sundress with the matching lace overlay. It was low cut, but the lace extended up two inches, giving a peek-a-boo glimpse of decolletage. Dabbing Chanel No 5 on my wrists and behind my ears, I studied my reflection in the mirror. What the outfit really needed was my lipstick. And not the new color Ada wanted me to get.
I had never entered her bedroom. But there was no chance of getting caught now—except by Sally, who couldn’t tell on me. And I was already breaking a major rule. What was one more?
I stepped out of the bathroom, went down the hall, and put my hand on the knob, half expecting her to have locked it. But the knob turned easily under my hand.
The room was large, with a queen-size bed covered in a white comforter, a baby blue crocheted afghan residing at the foot of it. The dressers were white as well, with an oversized vanity table covered in facial creams and cosmetics. The picture window held a cushioned seat, the perfect place to take in the ocean view. And underneath it, white built-in bookshelves lined with paperbacks. I knelt, examining the titles. None of the books were the kind Shirley and I would steal from our mothers, though there was a D. H. Lawrence book I wasn’t familiar with, but a wide variety of genres and authors, from modern to classical. I pulled one out and looked at the cover. It was called The Price of Salt. I remembered hearing something whispered about it, but couldn’t recall what the controversy was.
Replacing the book, I turned to the vanity to complete my mission in here. And yes, there was my Guerlain Rouge Diabolique. The same lipstick Marilyn Monroe wore. I applied it at Ada’s dressing table and pursed my lips at my reflection, smiling at the result. Then I dropped it in my clutch. I’d want to touch it up after dinner of course. And I would put it back before Ada ever knew it was missing.
Sally alerted me to Freddy’s presence before he rapped on the door. “Shush,” I called to her, banging my knee on Ada’s vanity as I hurried to stand. But then I took a breath and smoothed my skirt.
Freddy stood outside in a suit and tie, like when we had gone to Atlantic City, but holding a single red rose, the exact color of my lipstick.
His eyes traveled up my legs to my waist, lingering at my bosom and lips before meeting my own. “Wow,” he breathed. “You look . . .” He stopped himself. “Like you didn’t have to climb out of a window.”