She said, “Do we have to have wallpaper?”
He let out a relieved sigh. “Maybe together we can convince my sisters that we don’t. I’d get a headache looking at any of those every day.”
“Tell them—never mind, you shouldn’t have to speak for me. I’ll take them to a friend’s house that I admire. Maybe that will be enough.”
“Friend?”
She looked at him closely. “You sound surprised.”
“Not in the least,” he said. “I’m just remembering you told me once that you didn’t have many friends.”
“It’s very rude of you to remember everything I say.” She made an effort to sound severe and produced only an indigent huff. “And I do have a few friends. This one’s name is Lisped; her daughter went to school with us at the Cooper Union. Annika married a Swede and moved back there, but her mother is still here.”
“Wait, you and Sophie went to the Cooper Union? I thought they only taught classes for adults.”
“The institute has a class for the children of faculty members. Aunt Quinlan taught drawing and painting, Cap’s uncle Vantroyen taught engineering, and Annika’s father taught mathematics. That’s how I met Cap, at a lecture the grown-ups went to hear, before we even started school.”
“You’ve never told me much about any of this.”
“Haven’t I?” Anna considered. “I don’t think the stories are anything out of the ordinary. We were overindulged, I suppose, when it came to school. Any curiosity was to be encouraged, and everything was a game, from mathematics to Latin. We took every opportunity to go off on our own to explore. Annika and her brother Nils sometimes joined us.
“But my point was, I very much like her mother’s house. Lisped is someone I admire greatly. If there’s time to go visit, I wonder if your sisters would be shocked.”
“They might surprise you.”
Anna thought, That would be nice.
For a long time they didn’t talk at all, and Anna was free to take in the ocean air and the sun on the water, and the promise of what just might turn out to be a perfect day. Little by little she was aware of her mood floating away from her to disappear without a trace. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, put her head on Jack’s shoulder, and fell asleep. It was such a deep sleep that she was disoriented when he woke her an hour later, his breath on her ear sending a shiver running up and down her spine.
He said, “Vanderbilt’s Landing, Savard. Rise and shine.”
? ? ?
“YOU KNOW, YOU could call me Anna at this point,” she told him as they made their way from the ferry landing to the Stapleton train station. As they walked she was scanning the shoreline and all the mansions that overlooked the sound, the homes of men who traveled to Brooklyn or Manhattan by ferry, mornings and evenings.
He said, “You still call me Mezzanotte for the most part.”
“Because I like the sound of it. If your last name were Düsediekerb?umer or Gooch or Quisenberry—” She shrugged.
“You would never have talked to me at all?”
“Well,” she said, stepping neatly away. “Of course I would have talked to you. But I couldn’t marry someone with the name Düsediekerb?umer. In fact, it’s odd that I’m marrying anybody at all. I didn’t think I ever would.”
She was in a lighter mood, even playful, but not far beneath the surface she was still exhausted. Standing next to him on the platform she almost swayed in the breeze, blinking owlishly in the bright sun.
“What about Anna Mezzanotte, do you like the sound of that?”
She jerked and came fully awake. “Um,” she said.
Jack had wondered if this would be an issue, if she would resist taking his name. He hoped he wouldn’t have to convince her, because this was one point on which his parents—his father, most especially—would balk.
“I have a suggestion,” he said before she could think how to respond. “But let’s wait until we’ve found our seats.”
As soon as the train jerked its way out of the station she said, “Your suggestion?”
“As a doctor, you will want to remain Dr. Savard, I understand that. But at home, and when children come along—”
“They would have your last name, of course.” Relief flooded her expression. “I thought you would be unhappy about—my professional name.”
He shook his head, thinking, Pick your battles. He said, “At home you’re one woman and at the hospital, another.”
She collapsed, boneless, against her seat back, and yawned again. “I don’t seem to be able to keep my eyes open.”