She rose and gestured for me to follow her. “We’re going to Gimbels.”
I sighed. The absolute last thing I wanted was to be stuffed into some bathing contraption from the Victorian era that covered me from shoulders to knees. The tan lines would be atrocious. “Ada, I like my suit.”
“I don’t recall asking.”
“Or listening,” I grumbled.
“What was that, darling? I wasn’t listening.”
“Nothing,” I said through clenched teeth.
She turned and patted my cheek. “Keep it that way.”
But at least with Thomas not around, I was allowed into the front seat of the Cadillac. Though it was a more terrifying ride with the full, unobstructed view of what we were narrowly missing. I wondered if there were so few cars on the road to avoid the terror that was Ada.
She parked on the street near the store, leaving the top down.
“Aren’t you worried someone will steal the car?”
She looked at me as if I had just asked if she was worried aliens would land and shave her head. “You’re not in New York anymore.”
That much was for sure.
Entering the store with Ada was an entirely new experience. I had been ignored until reaching the makeup counter on my solo journey. But a doorman held the door for her, greeting her by name, and a young woman came rushing over to her. “Miss Heller! I’m so sorry; we didn’t know you were coming.”
“I do like to keep you on your toes.”
She smiled politely, clearly flustered. “I’ll go fetch Charlotte. One moment, please.”
“We’ll meet her upstairs.”
“Of course,” she said, rushing away.
I followed Ada toward an elevator, where a uniformed man stood, ready to push the buttons. I hadn’t seen an elevator operator in years.
“Hello, Miss Heller,” he said, tipping his hat.
“George,” Ada said with a nod. And that was all he needed. He knew where she was going.
We arrived at the top floor, where a young woman was waiting. “Ada,” she said, leaning forward to kiss my great-aunt on the cheek.
Ada embraced her, then held her away to see me. “Charlotte, darling, this is my niece, Marilyn. And she’s going to need a shore wardrobe.”
“Of course. Right this way.” She looked me over carefully. “A perfect size ten.”
I nodded, and she led us to a private viewing area, with a three-way mirror, changing room, and settee. “Would you prefer coffee or champagne this afternoon?” she asked Ada.
“Coffee.” Ada waggled a finger at her. “You always talk me into things when I choose the champagne.”
“Never,” Charlotte said, feigning outrage but giving a conspiratorial wink. “You two sit right here, and I’ll bring a selection right up for you.” She started to leave but turned back to Ada. “And I have a few new things for you to look at as well.”
“Nonsense. We’re here for Marilyn today.”
“Why don’t I just bring them, and we’ll see how you feel?”
Ada smiled. “Maybe it’s not the champagne.”
We sat, and another young woman brought a tray with a silver coffee pot, two cups, and cream and sugar. Ada indicated that I was to pour. I handed hers to her black, looked longingly at the cream and sugar, but took a sip of the plain brew instead. She said nothing but watched approvingly.
When Charlotte returned, we began with dresses, pedal pushers, and several lightweight blouses. Nothing as exciting as I would have gotten had I done my normal seasonal shopping with Mama, but Ada explained that I wouldn’t need much formal wear at the shore. And the pile of clothes to buy grew larger with each round.
Finally, Charlotte presented the bathing suits. Ada walked up to the rack of them and flipped through while I waited. Her style had been impeccable for the clothes, but if she disapproved of my admittedly modest suit, I was in trouble.
“This one,” she said, handing something to Charlotte, who put it into the changing room and gestured for me to join her.
Hanging on the room’s hook was a baby blue bikini. I had asked for one the year before, citing the images of movie stars in magazines, but my mother refused. Daddy would have thrown a fit, and she didn’t want that fight on her hands.
I poked my head back out. “Really?” I asked Ada.
She shooed me back in. “Try it on.”
Stripping off the sheath dress I had tried on last, I stepped out of my underthings and pulled on the midriff-baring suit. I had never been this publicly unclad before, but I had to admit, it flattered my shape, and the color would look lovely with a tan.
I stepped out, climbing onto the pedestal at the three-way mirror.
Ada smiled, lifting her eyebrows twice. “And you thought you weren’t going to have any fun this summer.” She turned back to Charlotte. “We’ll take it.” She thought for a moment. “Add a second one in green while we’re at it.”
Back on the street, we waited as the concierge brought the bags to the car. “Not as barbaric as you assumed when you arrived, is it?”
“Philadelphia?” I asked. She nodded. “It’s not New York—”
“Nothing is New York,” Ada said. “Just like how nothing is Paris.”
I had never been. “But I suppose it has its charm.” I gestured down the street. “I tried to see the Liberty Bell the other day, but it was closed for renovations.”
“I didn’t take you for the history type.”
I shrugged. “When in Rome . . . or in this case, Philadelphia.”
She eyed me carefully. “I also didn’t take you as the type to give up so easily.” She gave a dollar to the concierge, then slipped a hand through my arm. “Come on. Let’s go see your cracked bell.”
“But, Ada, it’s closed. The door was locked and the windows were covered.”
“Pishposh. Nothing is that closed.” She walked, taking me along with her. “Keep up, please.”
We walked the three blocks arm in arm, then down the tree-lined avenue to the entrance. “See?” I said, showing her the sign. “Closed for renovations.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.” She shook her head. “Come along.” And she half pulled me to the corner, rounding the building to the rear entrance, where workers were cutting wood on a sawhorse. “Hello, boys,” Ada called merrily.
One of the workers tipped his hat, but another looked less pleased. “You can’t be back here, ma’am. It’s restricted.”
“Could I speak to your supervisor, please?” she asked sweetly. “I won’t be but a moment.”
I was sure he would say he was the supervisor. Or that he wasn’t going to get whoever was. But when Ada flashed a smile, seventy-five or not, he softened.
An older, heftier man, who clearly did none of the manual labor himself, came outside a moment later. He looked up at the sun and wiped his brow with a stained handkerchief before directing himself to us.