Ada calmly folded down the page of her novel and placed it on the coffee table. “That was fast,” she said, rising. “Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
“Wonderful. Let’s go to lunch.” She looked at me. “Are you done with your tantrum? I’m not sure they allow misbehaving children.”
I shook my head. “You go. I’d hate to intrude.”
Lillian put a hand on my arm. “Please come. I’d like to get to know you better.”
Ada stalked past her. “Leave her be. She can join us for dinner if she’s over this little pique by then.”
Lillian sighed, following Ada, with a sidelong glance back at me.
But after they left, I went to the window to spy.
“—that about?”
I saw Ada shake her head. “She’s been getting all my attention all summer and is jealous, I think.”
Lillian made a tsk-tsk sound. “Oh dear. I’ll win her over yet.”
“You shouldn’t have to. You’ve had a hard enough time.”
Ada started the car, and I couldn’t hear them over the engine, but Lillian said something that made her laugh.
Once they were gone, I went to the living room phone and called my mother, not caring that it was long distance.
“Kleinman residence,” Grace answered, sounding bored.
“It’s Marilyn. Is Mama home?”
“Marilyn? Is everything all right?”
“Yes,” I said in annoyance. “Put Mama on, please.”
“But why are you calling?”
“Grace. Put Mama on the phone.”
There were murmured voices and a shuffling sound before my mother spoke. “Marilyn? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.”
“Then why are you calling?”
I sighed. “Ada said Daddy is sending me back to school?”
My mother exhaled, then spoke more quietly. “I believe so, yes. He hasn’t sent the check yet.”
“Mama, what would you think if I stayed here instead?”
“Why would you want to do that?”
I didn’t know how to answer that question and make her understand. “I like it here,” I said eventually.
“Marilyn, I don’t understand. Is it a boy? I spent all summer trying to get your father to come around after what you did, and now you’re saying you don’t want that?”
The last ray of hope I had been holding on to began to sink into the pit of my stomach. “It’s not a boy. I—I just haven’t decided what I want to do yet.”
“Well, decide quickly that you want to come home, because he’s going to sign that check any day now if he hasn’t already.” I didn’t reply and she softened. “I miss you.”
I missed her too. And Daddy, despite the circumstances under which we parted. But the idea of returning to my childhood bedroom in the brownstone made me feel sick. So I told her I missed her as well and that I had to go before I ran the phone bill up too high.
“Enjoy this last month,” she said. “You’re making such wonderful memories.”
I wanted to say, “Like you did?” but I couldn’t. If she hadn’t told me, it wasn’t fair to let her know Ada had. And she would suspect, if Ada told me, that I’d had my own troubles. So I agreed noncommittally, said that I loved her, and hung up.
Then I went out to the porch and lay down on the wicker love seat, wishing Lillian didn’t exist.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
I wandered down to the beach while they were gone, but I couldn’t focus on my book. Instead, I wound up sitting on my towel, watching the waves break on the shore. Daddy was going to send the payment for college. I would be closer to Dan. But what if I didn’t want to be closer to Dan? Dating him here felt safe and exciting at the same time. Dating him in New York—was there any scenario where I didn’t wind up living the exact life I wanted to avoid?
My shoulders sagged. Why did it all have to be so complicated? I didn’t want both a fiancé and my parents to die in order to live my own life the way Ada had. But what other options did I really have?
Clouds blocked the sun, and I shivered as a cold wind came in from town. The handful of people still on the beach were packing up, and when I turned to look behind me, I saw why: dark clouds menaced with an approaching storm. I quickly gathered my things, but I wasn’t quite fast enough and wound up sprinting along the dune path in pelting rain that stung like needles when it hit my skin. I couldn’t see more than a few inches in front of my face, and I nearly fell as the gusts flung random debris into my path.
By the time I reached the house, I was soaking wet and shivering as the wind whipped my towel and hair furiously.
Lillian threw the front door open just as I reached for it. “Oh, you poor thing. Come in, let’s get you warm and dry.” She took my arm and pulled me inside, shutting it behind me. “Ada! I need towels!”
I looked at her curiously, wondering if Ada would yell for her not to yell room to room, but she came flying down the stairs with two bath towels, stopping short when she saw me. “Good gracious. You look like a drowned rat.”
“I feel like one,” I sniffed miserably.
Lillian took a towel from her and wrapped it around me, rubbing my shoulders with it the way my mother did when I was little and had just stepped out of the tub. “She’s ice cold,” Lillian said. “Let’s run you a bath.”
“I’m okay, really. It just came out of nowhere.”
A loud crack of thunder sounded, startling me. “Nonsense,” Lillian said. “Let’s get you warmed up. It’ll blow over quickly, and then we’ll all go have dinner tonight.”
Ada was looking out the windows that faced west toward the bay. “I think this one will last. The worst is still coming.”
“I’m going to start the bath,” Lillian said. “You come on up whenever you’re ready.” She climbed the stairs.
“Still want to replace her?” Ada asked.
I made a sour face, daring her to tell me it would cause wrinkles. “At least someone cares if I live or die.”
“Darling, I care if you die. I would have to figure out how to get your body out so the house wouldn’t smell like something out of a Faulkner story.”
I shook my head, muttering as I went up the stairs. Lillian was sitting on the side of the tub, pouring a liberal helping of bubbles into the water. “I took these from Ada,” she said, winking conspiratorially. “Let’s let that be our little secret.”
“She’ll probably smell them on me and know. She always knows.”
Lillian smiled warmly. “Well, I’ll handle that if so. Come on. Suit off. A hot bath will do its job, and you’ll feel good as new.”
She turned around to give me privacy, but I didn’t remove my towel. Was she really going to stay while I took a bath?
As if she could hear my thoughts, she said, “It’s okay, I’m a nurse.”
“But you’re not my nurse,” I said.
“That’s more than fair. I’ll be just down the hall. Holler if you need anything.”
I looked at her skeptically. “Ada always tells me not to yell room to room.”