She got out of the car. “It’s rude to ask about others’ finances. But yes. Be a dear and bring the bags inside.” And, without a backward glance, she climbed the steps to the summer home, leaving me to struggle with our suitcases, hatboxes, and other assorted bags that Ada didn’t trust to send ahead.
The first thing I noticed when I climbed the steps was how bright the house was. The multitude of windows, which Ada was currently going through the house opening, provided natural light everywhere—even in the bathrooms. It would hardly be necessary to turn on a lamp until dark, which was late this time of year. The walls and furnishings were all pastels, creating a feeling of clean air throughout the entire house. I pictured myself lounging on the overstuffed sofa, a novel in hand, eating fresh fruit from a farm stand. A far cry from New York, but delicious nonetheless.
“Don’t just stand there,” Ada said. “We have work to do.”
“What work? I’m here to relax.”
“Relaxing takes work. Come on. Those bags go upstairs.”
“Can’t we get lunch first? I’m famished.”
Ada put a hand on her hip. “I lived through the Great Depression. You’ll live another half hour.”
“You were alive in the 1800s too. That doesn’t make me less hungry.”
“Watch it,” she said. “I was younger than you when they sank the Maine.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
Ada held a hand to her chest in mock outrage. “You know about King Arthur but not the USS Maine? What are they teaching you in that fancy college?” She smiled. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. Unless you mend your wicked ways, you’re not going back there anyway. Now get those bags upstairs. I’m hungry too.”
Lunch was a couple of blocks away at a hotel called the Whitebrier, with a dining room overlooking the water. The owner greeted Ada with a kiss on the cheek and asked if I was her new companion.
“Only for the summer. Lillian’s mother is quite ill. This is my niece, Marilyn.”
“She could be your sister,” the man said with a wink. “Your usual spot outside?”
“Please.”
“I don’t like him,” I whispered to Ada as he led us toward the deck.
“Really? I adore him.”
Diners stopped eating to greet Ada as she entered, a reigning queen, waving gently to her subjects as we were settled along a rail, closest to the water, seagulls sitting on the dune nearby waiting for an opportunity to strike.
The owner held Ada’s chair for her, then placed menus in front of us. “No need,” Ada said. “We’ll both have the usual.”
“Very good, of course,” he said, pulling the menu from my place and retreating.
“What if I don’t like ‘the usual’?”
“Then you have no taste, darling. Try it first. I doubt even you will be able to complain.”
I scowled at her, but there was nothing I could say to that that wouldn’t be branded a complaint.
“And don’t make that face. It’ll cause wrinkles,” she said.
“More so than children?”
She winked.
Not more than a moment later, champagne flutes of orange juice arrived. “To Avalon,” Ada said, raising her glass to me. “The jewel of the Jersey shore.”
“I’m not sure that’s saying much.”
“Hush,” Ada said, taking a sip. I followed suit, realizing as soon as the vibrant liquid hit my tongue that it was a mimosa. Ada was watching my reaction, so I kept my face blank. “I lived through Prohibition too,” she said. “Cheers.”
The usual proved to be a summer salad topped with crab meat, a combination I would never have tried on my own. My family didn’t keep kosher, though we avoided shellfish and pork. But Ada was right. Perhaps it was the sea air or the view or just the food itself, but it was delicious.
“Is the town Jewish?” I asked as the waiter cleared our plates.
“No. Two churches, no synagogues. We’ll be heathens for the summer.”
I ignored the “heathen” comment. There had been no mention at all of going to a shul the one weekend I spent in Philadelphia, and I wasn’t going to be the one to suggest it. Especially not when I knew what sort of comments she would make about why I might want to attend—not that I did. “Then who will your clients be?”
“Here? Everyone with an unmarried daughter over twenty-five in Cape May County. Atlantic too. They don’t mind driving.” She drank the last sip of her mimosa. “Which is where you come in. When the young men come to visit their families, we swoop in.”
“You’re not going to push me off that pier, are you?” I asked, gesturing to the pier in the distance.
“Now there’s an idea. Weeds out the ones who can’t swim.”
“Did Lillian round up men for you?”
“Lillian? Goodness no. We always hired a girl to help.”
“Does that mean you’re going to pay me?”
“If so, I’ll also be charging you rent.”
“I have a feeling I’ll come out of that arrangement owing you money,” I said.
“Best not look a gift horse in the mouth. Come on. I’ll pay you with an ice cream cone. Springer’s is better, of course, but we would have to drive to Stone Harbor for that, so another day. Avalon Freeze is absolutely worth the walk.”
“Do we walk everywhere in this town?”
“Mostly. I have bikes in the shed as well if you fancy a ride.”
“I haven’t ridden a bike since I was a kid.”
Ada pushed back her chair and stood. “All of five minutes ago, then.” And she strode away, leaving me to chase after her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Frannie appeared mysteriously at seven the following morning to prepare breakfast. “Does she stay here with us?” I asked when Frannie returned to the kitchen.
“Of course not.”
I was apparently supposed to know her living arrangements without asking. “Does she take the train down from Philadelphia at five every morning?”
Ada lowered her newspaper. “Is it really your business where Frannie lives?”
I supposed it wasn’t. But I was still curious. Especially if Ada actually paid her a living wage. She had been beyond generous with Hannah, the homely girl looking for a match, and ridiculously so when it came to buying me a summer wardrobe (though I suspected that was more about me being a reflection of her than anything else), but I was still curious, especially given the fact that her paid companion lived with her year-round with time off for an ailing mother. But I said nothing—until Frannie came back in with my coffee, that is.
“Frannie,” I asked, ignoring a warning look from Ada. “Where do you stay when you’re in Avalon?”
Frannie looked in confusion to Ada, who shrugged. “Why—Miss Ada gives us a house for the summer. On Ninth Street.”
“Who’s ‘us’?”
“My family—my husband, the children, and my sister comes to stay with us.”
“How lovely,” I said as Ada returned to her newspaper.
“It really is. We could never afford a place here.”
“That’ll be enough, Frannie,” Ada said from behind her newspaper. “And you can have the night off tonight. We’ll be having dinner with the Katzes.”
“Of course, Miss Ada. Thank you.”
Ada nodded, and she retreated to the kitchen.
“Just how many houses do you own?” I asked.
“Real estate is never a bad investment.” She lowered the newspaper again. “What exactly is it that you want to do anyway?”