Her niece wanted to go and study far away, and Lillian eventually gave in. A couple of years’ higher education won’t do her any harm, she thought. They finally agreed that Alma should go to a girls’ college in Boston, where Nathaniel was still studying. He could protect her from the city’s dangers and temptations. So Lillian gave up presenting her with potential husbands and instead began to prepare her wardrobe with frilly skirts and outfits of fashionable pastel-colored angora tops and sweaters, even though they did little for a big-boned young woman with strong features like Alma.
Although her aunt was desperate to find someone she could trust to accompany her east, Alma insisted on going on her own. She flew to New York, intending to take the train from there to Boston. When she disembarked, she found Nathaniel waiting at the airport. His parents had sent him a telegram, and he had decided to come and meet her so that they could travel together by train. The two cousins embraced with all the pent-up emotion of the seven months since Nathaniel had last been in San Francisco, and hurriedly brought each other up to date with family news as a uniformed black porter loaded all her luggage onto a cart to follow them to the taxi. Nathaniel counted the suitcases and hatboxes and asked his cousin if she was bringing clothes to sell.
“You’re not one to criticize, you’ve always been a dandy,” she retorted.
“What are your plans, Alma?”
“What I told you in my letter, cousin. You know I adore your parents, but I’m suffocating in that house. I have to make myself independent.”
“So I see. With my father’s money?”
Alma had not noticed that particular detail. Her first step toward independence was to obtain a diploma of some kind or other. Her vocation was yet to be defined.
“Your mama is determined to find me a husband. I don’t have the courage to tell her I’m going to marry Ichimei.”
“Why don’t you wake up, Alma? It’s been ten years since Ichimei disappeared from your life.”
“Eight, not ten.”
“Get him out of your head. Even in the unlikely event that he should reappear and still be interested in you, you know very well you can’t marry him.”
“Why not?”
“Why not! Because he’s from another race, another social class, another culture, another religion, another economic level. Do you need any more reasons?”
“Well then, I’ll be an old maid. What about you, do you have a girlfriend, Nat?”
“No, but if I do, you’ll be the first to know.”
“That’s good. We could pretend we’re a couple.”
“Why?”
“To put off any idiot who comes near me.”