I chuckled. “That is exactly what she would say.”
“I can come back in the morning—”
“I can handle toast and coffee. Take the week off. And once I figure out what I’m doing, I’ll let you know.”
She hugged me tightly. “Ada loved you. Even if she didn’t say it.”
I squeezed her back. “I do know that. Now go on home and enjoy your family.”
And then I was alone in the house that would always be Ada’s to me.
I spent the evening looking back through the albums I had made for her. And because it was Sunday, I put on Ed Sullivan, poured myself a hearty glass of wine from her generous stock, and had a running commentary with her empty chair about that night’s “really big shew.”
In the morning, I opened the door to her bedroom. I half thought she would be sitting on the bed, ready to admonish me. But the room was empty. I looked around. It was mine now. I could take the biggest bedroom if I chose.
I shook my head. Maybe someday. But not now. Instead, I went to her vanity, took the jewelry box, and brought it to the bed, where I sat with it. I knew what I was looking for.
It was in the third drawer. The sapphire engagement ring that had been her mother’s. The one she let me wear to Atlantic City. That would be my engagement ring from Dan. I knew I should wait for him, but I slipped it on my left ring finger. It fit perfectly, as if it belonged there.
There was still time before Dan was due to arrive, so I looked through the rest of the jewelry before moving on to the closet.
Her closet was a sight to behold. Dresses for every occasion. Hats. Shoes. More jewelry. Furs. I discovered there was an entire other row behind the one in the back. I felt behind the second row, wondering if there would be a third, but my hand brushed a door frame.
Curious, I pushed the clothes aside, revealing the narrow door. Narnia, I thought. I reached for the knob, half convinced I was about to meet Aslan and the White Witch and that instead of Ada, I was the one who had died. The other half of me was sure it would be locked, its contents remaining a mystery.
But the knob turned easily. I peered through the darkness, then stepped through into another, empty closet. I opened the door and stepped out into Lillian’s room.
That was anticlimactic, I thought, returning the way I came into Ada’s closet.
I was trying on a black Givenchy dress that was a dead ringer for the one Audrey Hepburn wore in Sabrina—though it wouldn’t quite zip over the bust—when I looked at the clock and realized more than an hour had passed. Dan would be there soon, and we were driving straight to Avalon to carry out Ada’s final wishes.
After stepping out of the dress, I hung it back in the closet and replaced all the jewelry except for the ring.
But I stubbed my toe on something sticking out from under the bed. Cursing, I bent to see what it was and came away with a photo album. It wasn’t one I had put together. I sat back on the bed with it and quickly saw it was an album of Ada and Lillian. They were in Avalon, and in front of a theater, and many, many more, smiling brilliantly and looking so happy in each other’s company.
I should send this to Lillian, I thought. Why was it under the bed though?
I shrugged. I would deal with it later. When we got back from Avalon.
The shore house was closed up, but we were planning to spend the night there, then drive back here to decide what came next. I liked the idea of staying in Philadelphia for at least a little while, and Dan was going to talk to some local newspapers to see if they were hiring. I told him he didn’t need to work if he didn’t want to, but he insisted. If it was some masculine thing about money, I was going to be annoyed, but he asked if I was still going to write now that I had money.
Ada had made a better match than she realized in us.
The doorbell rang, and I went downstairs to let Dan in.
CHAPTER SIXTY
Once we got out of Philadelphia, Dan pulled over. “What are you doing?” I asked him. There wasn’t a place to eat or use a restroom in sight.
“Switch with me,” he said. “You’re driving.”
“I can’t drive all the way to Avalon!”
“Why not? There’s no traffic going that direction this time of year. It’s the perfect practice.”
I looked at him for a moment, then he got out and came around to the passenger side while I slid over into the driver’s seat. “This is a more powerful car than mine,” he warned. “So go easy on the gas pedal. If you crash it, I think Ada is going to haunt you.”
I smiled. “She’d come back to murder me.”
“Let’s stay alive, then.”
I put the car into drive, Dan sitting close enough to grab the wheel if I needed him to, and we continued along the Black Horse Pike until we reached the Garden State Parkway, where we went south toward Avalon.
By the time we were on Avalon Boulevard, I felt comfortable driving. The marshes loomed on both sides of the road as we crested the hill and the town came into view.
“I miss her,” I said as we entered town.
“I know. I do too. And I didn’t know her nearly as well as you did.”
I reached over and touched the urn on the seat between us. “Do you think she can hear us?”
“I never really believed in an afterlife,” Dan said. “But I think she can. If anyone could, it’s her.”
“She’d love how Mama stood up to Daddy.”
“She would.”
I pulled to a stop in front of the house. “Let’s go in for a minute. I need to use the restroom, and I want to call Lillian in Chicago. Just let her know we’re here.”
Dan agreed, and we climbed the steps. I used a key on the ring to unlock the door, something I had never done. It stuck a little, but I jiggled it, and the door opened.
The furniture was covered in sheets to protect it from dust. But we were only staying the night. It wasn’t worth opening everything up just to redo it.
Sleeping arrangements would be more interesting, I realized as I washed my hands in the powder room. Dan would respect whatever I chose, but we could do what we wanted now. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I didn’t honestly know if I was up to it yet. I wanted our first time to be special, and tonight was likely to be sad. Not how I wanted to start our lives.
I sighed and went to the phone in the kitchen, pulling the number Lillian had left me from my pocketbook.
I dialed the operator and told her where to connect me. The phone rang four times before an unfamiliar voice answered. Which wasn’t unexpected. Lillian had told me she was going to stay with her sister for a couple of weeks before getting herself a place.
“Hi, this is Marilyn Kleinman. I’m calling for Lillian?”
“Lillian?” the voice asked. “Why would Lillian be here?”
“I’m sorry, the operator must have given me the wrong number. I’m looking for Lillian Miller.”
“Lillian is my sister, but she’s not here.”
“I—she told me she’d be staying with you.”
“If so, that’s news to me. Isn’t she in Philadelphia?”
“No.”
“Hmm. Well, I suppose you can give me your phone number, and if I hear from her, I’ll tell her to call you.”