I grabbed the copy of Goodbye, Columbus that my mother had mailed me and put it in my bag as well. Somewhat scandalous. You probably shouldn’t read this one. But c’est la guerre, my mother had written on the title page. Nothing could make me want to read a book more. Though to be honest, the book was the last thing on my mind.
It took effort not to skip the entire way up the dune path, run to the lifeguard stand, and throw myself at Freddy, re-creating the scene from From Here to Eternity that I had thought of the night he first kissed me.
But I wanted to get the full effect of telling him that I was home alone. So I spread my towel in the sun and started the book, waiting for him to notice me. Which didn’t take long. Through my sunglasses, I saw when he looked over his shoulder, then a smile spread across his face as he leaned over to say something to his chairmate before climbing down.
“Don’t you ever actually work?” I asked, sitting up as he reached me.
“I’m working right now,” he said, nudging my legs so he could sit on the towel. “I’m making sure you don’t drown.”
“On dry land?”
“You never know. Drownings can happen anywhere.”
“In that case, I might need more protection. Maybe dinner tonight?”
He turned his head, looking at me sideways. “Don’t tell me Ada finally came around?”
“Now, you know better than that.”
“Then I’m afraid I don’t understand. Do you want to come to my house?”
I shook my head. “Ada’s gone for the week. Her friend’s mother died.”
The smile that spread across his face was worth everything. “I’ll pick you up at six,” he said. “There’s this Italian restaurant down in Cape May . . .” He kissed his fingertips, then spread them in the air, his eyes alight with possibilities.
“Sounds lovely.”
He leaned in and kissed me.
I shaved my legs with extra attention in the shower after the beach, then lay on the upper deck’s lounge chair in a light robe to dry my hair in the sun before getting dressed. I selected my fanciest girdle, the one that cinched my waist down to practically nothing, and the seafoam-green sundress with the matching lace overlay. It was low cut, but the lace extended up two inches, giving a peek-a-boo glimpse of decolletage. Dabbing Chanel No 5 on my wrists and behind my ears, I studied my reflection in the mirror. What the outfit really needed was my lipstick. And not the new color Ada wanted me to get.
I had never entered her bedroom. But there was no chance of getting caught now—except by Sally, who couldn’t tell on me. And I was already breaking a major rule. What was one more?
I stepped out of the bathroom, went down the hall, and put my hand on the knob, half expecting her to have locked it. But the knob turned easily under my hand.
The room was large, with a queen-size bed covered in a white comforter, a baby blue crocheted afghan residing at the foot of it. The dressers were white as well, with an oversized vanity table covered in facial creams and cosmetics. The picture window held a cushioned seat, the perfect place to take in the ocean view. And underneath it, white built-in bookshelves lined with paperbacks. I knelt, examining the titles. None of the books were the kind Shirley and I would steal from our mothers, though there was a D. H. Lawrence book I wasn’t familiar with, but a wide variety of genres and authors, from modern to classical. I pulled one out and looked at the cover. It was called The Price of Salt. I remembered hearing something whispered about it, but couldn’t recall what the controversy was.
Replacing the book, I turned to the vanity to complete my mission in here. And yes, there was my Guerlain Rouge Diabolique. The same lipstick Marilyn Monroe wore. I applied it at Ada’s dressing table and pursed my lips at my reflection, smiling at the result. Then I dropped it in my clutch. I’d want to touch it up after dinner of course. And I would put it back before Ada ever knew it was missing.
Sally alerted me to Freddy’s presence before he rapped on the door. “Shush,” I called to her, banging my knee on Ada’s vanity as I hurried to stand. But then I took a breath and smoothed my skirt.
Freddy stood outside in a suit and tie, like when we had gone to Atlantic City, but holding a single red rose, the exact color of my lipstick.
His eyes traveled up my legs to my waist, lingering at my bosom and lips before meeting my own. “Wow,” he breathed. “You look . . .” He stopped himself. “Like you didn’t have to climb out of a window.”
I laughed. “You may need to work on your compliments.”
“I think that one was quite good. Because you looked gorgeous climbing out that window. If you were a cat burglar, I’d give you everything I had.”
“Do I have to be a burglar for that?”
He took me in his arms. “You do not.” And he leaned in and kissed me deeply.
I would need to reapply that lipstick in the car too.
Dinner was just as excellent as Freddy had promised, and we split a bottle of wine. I had two glasses and was a little tipsy by the time we finished. I half expected Freddy to make a comment about how I should drink more before he took me home, but he took the last half glass from me after I dropped my fork on the ground and laughed. “Probably enough of that,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go walk through town. It still looks like it would have when Ada was young.”
“I don’t want to think about Ada tonight,” I said.
“Me neither.”
The sun was starting to set, and we walked on the side of the pedestrian street that was covered in the long shade of the buildings, hand in hand. A caricaturist sat in the square near a fountain. “Should we?” Freddy asked.
“You’d have to keep it for us.”
“I can do that. Then someday, we’ll frame it and let our children laugh at it.”
“Children?”
“I said, ‘Someday.’”
“What else do you have planned out for us, Mr. Goldman?”
“Plenty of things,” he said, guiding me to the chairs in front of the artist and handing him a dollar. “I figure you’ll take a year off school so that I can finish, then we’ll both go to New York, and you can finish college while I go to law school.”
“You expect me to take the year off?”
He smiled disarmingly. “It would be harder for me to take two off for you to finish first, but I can if I have to. Or transfer.”
“You’d transfer to a New York school for your senior year?”
“If it was the only way to be with you? Yes.”
If we lived in New York, the issue of his family disappeared except for infrequent visits . . . but no.
“I think you’re the one who drank too much of that wine, buster.”
He kissed my hand. “I’ll show you I’m serious.”
I leaned against him. “Well, I suppose I’m glad I don’t look like a potato, then.” Freddy threw his head back in laughter, causing a crease to form between the caricaturist’s eyebrows. “I’m sorry, sir,” I told him. “I’ll behave. I promise.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Freddy said.
It was my turn to laugh.
Cape May wasn’t a boardwalk town the way Wildwood and Atlantic City were, and at around ten things began closing down. “We should head back,” Freddy said.
“Do you want to go to a boardwalk?”