Finally, I heard a car outside, ran down the steps, and peeked through the screened living room window to catch a glimpse of her.
But before I even saw Lillian, I realized that Ada was smiling. Actually smiling. I thought back to the day she picked me up at the train. I hadn’t gotten a welcome like that. And I vowed to be on my very best behavior, to Ada at least, to make it clear that she didn’t need an outsider when I was there.
Lillian’s hair was wrapped in a scarf, large sunglasses hiding her face as she opened her car door and stepped out. She was slender, but tightly girdled into a yellow shirtwaist dress. She pulled the scarf from her mousy brown hair and stood for a moment, removing her sunglasses to look up at the house. Then she leaned in to say something to Ada, who smiled and nodded, gesturing for her to go inside.
I dashed to the front door to avoid being caught at the window, and threw it open just as they reached the porch.
“Ah, the prodigal daughter herself,” Ada said. “Lillian, this is my niece, Marilyn. Marilyn, this is Lillian.”
I stuck out my hand, but Lillian pulled me in for a hug. “I’ve heard so much about you from Ada that I feel like I know you already.” She leaned back to look at me, brushing my hair from my face. “Why, she looks like you,” she said to Ada. “Look at those cheekbones.”
I looked at Ada, fifty-five years my senior, trying to see any resemblance. I supposed there was some from the pictures of her youth, but I looked more like my mother than her.
Lillian was younger than Ada, but her face was lined around her eyes and mouth, the reason being apparent when she smiled warmly. And as much as I still didn’t want her intruding, I felt the slightest twinge of guilt at moving her perfume bottle.
“Why don’t you go rest for a little while?” Ada suggested. “I have a table reserved for lunch, but we can always have something here if you’re not up to going out just yet.”
“I just need a little nap and a shower and I’ll be right as rain,” Lillian said. “Besides, I’ve been missing that crab salad all summer.”
“I’m sorry about your mother,” I said.
Both women looked to me, as if they had forgotten I was there. Lillian took my hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, dear.”
“Go get situated,” Ada said. “You two can get acquainted later. Lillian needs to rest.”
“I’m fine,” Lillian insisted but allowed Ada to prod her up the stairs.
“I’m going to change while you nap,” Ada said. Then she turned to me. “Why don’t you run on down to the market and get some more flowers for the living room?”
I glanced at the living room, where no fewer than four bouquets sat on available surfaces. “Shouldn’t we leave some for . . . anyone else on the island?”
Ada fixed me with a look that told me I would go if I knew what was good for me. “Okay, then,” I said, grabbing my handbag. “I guess I’ll be back with flowers.”
On my way into town, I passed Shirley, who was returning with a bag from Hoy’s. She glared at me. “Good morning, Shirley,” I said. “I hope you’re well.”
“Very well, thank you. We just had a wedding after all.”
She was trying to sting me—I wasn’t completely sure if it was for throwing off her brother or for not seeking out her friendship after everything happened. And she would never understand that she couldn’t upset me—at least not about Freddy. “That’s right. I hope they’re very happy.”
“They are,” she said with venom.
“Good. I hope you will be too.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out, and I continued walking.
When I returned, having taken my time and gotten a cup of coffee at the bakery, Ada was in the living room reading. Lillian was nowhere to be seen. I handed the flowers off to Frannie, who muttered about being out of vases before taking them from me. Then I joined Ada in the living room. She didn’t look up from her book.
“Lillian seems nice,” I said eventually.
“She is.”
I took a deep breath. “I was thinking—what if I didn’t go back to New York in the fall?”
Ada was still in her book. “And what would you do instead?”
Not the response I was hoping for. “I was thinking I’d stay on with you—if you’d have me, that is.”
“An interesting idea. What about young Mr. Schwartz?”
I rolled my eyes. “We had one date.”
“Two.”
“You came along for lunch. That doesn’t count.”
“But you went to the beach before that, which does.” She flipped the page.
“Okay, we’ve had two dates. And he said we’ll figure it out if I don’t go back.”
She hid a small smirk. “I’m not sure your parents would approve that idea—although dating the rabbi’s son would probably help.”
“Well, they’re not sending me back to school yet anyway—”
“Actually, I received a letter from your mother this morning. It seems your father has finally agreed that you can return to college.”
That startled me. Mama was writing to Ada? Her letters to me arrived like clockwork each Thursday. But I had never seen one from her addressed to Ada. And why would she tell Ada about college before me?
“I don’t know that I want to go back.”
“You could take writing classes.” She was still at least pretending to read her book.
I hadn’t thought of that. But— “I could take those in Philadelphia too.” I came and knelt in front of her, taking her book and putting it aside, leaving her no choice but to look at me. “And I mean—you wouldn’t have to pay Lillian. I can be your companion. I’ve done a good job of it this summer, haven’t I?”
Ada examined me. “Aside from Mr. Goldman, I assume you mean?”
“I’ve already apologized for that. Nothing like that will happen again.”
“And you’d have me just cast Lillian out? She’s lived with me for fifteen years. Where would she go?”
“I don’t have to replace her,” I said. “I just thought—”
“I’m not your mother, Marilyn. I suggest you speak with your parents before you make plans.” She reached around me for her book.
“Ada, please—”
“We have nearly four more weeks until Labor Day,” Ada said crisply. “A lot can happen in four weeks. I don’t make plans that far in advance regardless.”
I got up, shaking my head angrily, my strategy to be on my best behavior and make myself indispensable to her forgotten. “You know, I’m trying to help here. It’s not just me being selfish.”
Ada flipped another page. There was no way she was actually reading. “Not ‘just,’ no. Thank you so much for your act of selflessness in offering to put one woman out on the street to stay with another and avoid your family. We truly appreciate your sacrifice.”
I glared at her. “Fine. You two can sit around like the witches that you are, and who cares what happens to me?”
“My, it sounds like I’ve missed plenty of excitement this summer,” Lillian said from behind me, making me jump.