I walked Sally, then went upstairs, intending to shower. But I wasn’t quite ready to wash off the feel of Freddy’s skin on mine, and I was too invigorated to sleep. Instead, I sat at my typewriter and pulled a fresh sheet of paper from the ream.
I understood so much more about my characters now. About how the circumstances of their families and births would pale in comparison to their feelings.
By the time I heard the front door open and Frannie greet Sally, I had filled six pages.
I called down a hello and went to take a shower, thinking about how it might be smart to have dinner with Freddy’s family again. I could use more material. Though I was now certain there would be plenty of opportunities for that later.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Ada called later that morning to check in, concerned far more with Sally than with me. “Is she eating? She’s never been without me before.”
I leaned way back, trying to see if her bowl was empty. I probably would have noticed if there was still food in it when I fed her that morning. “She’s perfectly fine. I promise. She’s even warming up to me.” I smiled at the memory of her growling at Freddy, as if she were a wolf instead of a tiny little creature who would have difficulty battling a large squirrel.
“Are you sure she feels all right?”
“Ada! She’s fine. How’s Lillian holding up?”
Ada sighed. “Not so well. It’s good that I came.”
“When will you be back?”
“What’s today? Wednesday?” I confirmed. “Sunday, then. The funeral is set for Friday.”
I did the math in my head. Four more glorious days of freedom before my now-colorful world went back to black and white.
But Ada was still talking. “Make sure you water my hydrangeas.”
“What are hydrangeas?”
“What are they sending you to that college for?”
“Not agriculture.”
“Agriculture is food crops, you ignoramus. You mean botany. And the hydrangeas are the purple and blue flowering shrubs in the front. They’re in peak season and they need water. Unless it rains, then you’ll flood them.”
“Got it. Water purple and blue flowers.”
“Some are violet—water them all.”
“I will think of nothing else but the health of your hydrangeas,” I said.
“I’m not in the mood for your sass,” Ada said. “Put Frannie on the phone, please.”
I called for Frannie and scooped Sally up with only minor protests on her end. “Your mommy is a nut,” I crooned to her, hoping it was loud enough for Ada to hear. Then, quieter in her ear, “But I’m very glad you can’t talk.”
“Don’t your parents wonder where you are?” I asked on our third night as we lounged in bed. “Or haven’t they noticed that you’re gone?”
Freddy shrugged. “They don’t keep such close tabs on me. I’m a good boy after all.”
“That’s not what your sister says.”
He leaned up on an elbow to look at me. “It’s fun to tease her. But they practically keep her under lock and key. It’s different for boys. As long as I don’t bring home someone they wouldn’t approve of, they don’t really mind if I go out.”
“And they approve of me?”
“You, my dear, are the gold standard.”
I flinched, knowing what that meant. “And does all that matter to you? Is that why you’re here?”
“If it did, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be doing the proper courtship that they think I am. I don’t care who your family is—actually, that’s not true. I wish you weren’t part of your family because then Ada wouldn’t disapprove, and we could be together in the open.” I looked away, but he put a hand under my chin and turned my face back to his. “I didn’t fall for you because of some status symbol. I fell for you. And the rest just gets in the way.”
He lay back down on the bed, pillowing his head on his crossed arms. “What about you? Does my position as the son of a man who owns a clothing factory put you off? Are you secretly happy we’re sneaking around?”
A tiny trickle of guilt ran down the inside of my chest, like a drop of rain along a window. It wasn’t that I wanted to sneak around, and I couldn’t have cared less what Freddy’s family did for a living. But I knew Ada now. If I pushed her hard enough, she would tell me to date Freddy and learn for myself. But if I did that, I would also lose the respect that I had fought and clawed to earn from her. And I didn’t know why that was more important than a true courtship, but it was.
There was no way to explain that to Freddy. And if someone tried to say the same thing to me, I would have shown them the door. Quite possibly by kicking them through it. But I reassured him, the fingers on my left hand crossed under my leg, where he couldn’t see them, that no, I didn’t care about his family at all.
“We’ll still live nearer to yours,” Freddy said quickly.
I laughed, and he rolled on top of me, kissing me, while he laughed as well.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Ada arrived home on Sunday wearing a black dress, her hair wrapped in a leopard scarf to protect it from the wind on her drive from the station. I had made sure to slip her lipstick back into its place Saturday night.
She immediately swooped Sally up, cradling her to her chest. “Did Marilyn even feed you? You’re skin and bones. Don’t worry, darling, I’m back.”
Sally looked exactly the same as she always did. “Welcome home,” I said drily.
Ada looked me up and down, and, for a moment, I was sure she knew. Somehow, she knew. But all she said was “Hmph” before going up the stairs. “Be a dear and bring my suitcase,” she called down.
I exhaled. She didn’t know anything.
I picked up her inordinately heavy suitcase, lugged it up the stairs, and deposited it outside her room. “I told people we’d pick back up with clients tomorrow.”
“Excellent. I’m going to change and lie down for a bit. It was a rough week.” She went to pull the suitcase into her room, but stopped and reached into her purse instead. “Wait. I brought you something.”
She held out her palm, in which sat a snow globe of Chicago. “It’s silly, of course. But other than the abomination that they call pizza, it was the most Chicago item I could find to bring back.”
I smiled at the fact that she had thought of me at all, even if it was a child’s gift. “I’ll keep it next to the typewriter.”
Ada nodded and retreated into her room.
I turned the globe upside down, then righted it, watching the flecks of glitter settle over the city skyline. The return to reality wasn’t welcome, exactly, but I had missed her nonetheless.
After dinner, Ada suggested we drive to Stone Harbor, the other town on the island, for what she claimed was the best ice cream I would ever experience.
We drove the four miles to 96th Street. The town ended around 33rd Street, leaving nothing but houses and scrub brush until we reached Stone Harbor. On a Sunday night, with most of the men on their way back home before work the following morning, it was a quiet stretch of road. Ada parallel parked on the street outside an ice cream parlor on Third Avenue with a sign reading “Springer’s.”