Betty noticed someone standing at the table with Zaide. Tall and slim, hair combed back with a sheen, hands in his pockets. She knew that profile. She should have been happy to see a childhood summer playmate, but two years ago Marv Peck had been sweet on her, or that had been the gossip. She hadn’t been interested. Awkwardness hung in the air and eclipsed any remnants of hide-and-seek nostalgia.
Nannie smiled and waved her over.
“Good morning,” Betty said. She kissed Zaide on the cheek and then Nannie. “Hello, Mrs. Peck. It’s nice to have you back at Stern’s.”
“It’s nice to be back, Betty. I told Stanley, ‘I am not spending another summer shvitzing in Skokie.’ So my Marvin offered to come along to keep me company.” Mrs. Peck winked. Her makeup was a little heavy for morning, but that was probably because she had been known to indulge in pink squirrels (with extra maraschino cherries) from the bar at night.
“Hi, Marv. I thought you were working in your father’s shoe stores now.” Marv was twenty and had gone right into the family business without a college degree.
“Managing actually, but Father didn’t want Mother to be alone,” he said.
With a hundred guests at the peak of the summer, and half as many staff, Bertha Peck would never have been alone.
“In the fall I’ll start at our new Chicago store,” Marv went on.
“If everything goes well,” Mrs. Peck whispered.
Betty didn’t know if that was a warning or a wish. No matter. She and Marv had played together as children. He was a guest.
“Why don’t you sit with us?” Marv asked. “Your grandparents tell us you were admitted to Barnard.” He pulled back the empty chair to his right, but Betty patted Zaide’s shoulder and he looked up at her and held her hand. Her grandfather usually spent his summers distracted, so this gesture made her feel like she’d won a million bucks.
“I’m going to Barnard,” Betty said.
“Your grandparents are so generous. And modern,” Mrs. Peck said.
“That’s right,” Betty said. She hoped the offense that simmered inside her wasn’t coming out in her voice.
“Betty?” Marv had sat, his arm now around the back of the chair next to him, patting it. She wished she felt the wistfulness of nostalgia, but she did not. Betty wanted her summer romance with a college boy, not with Marv Peck. She had tried to like him that way two summers ago, she really had. It hadn’t worked.
“Thank you, but I can’t. Almost time for calisthenics. Have to get ready. Can’t be late.” Betty looked at her grandmother.
“Let’s go for a walk tonight, Betty.” Marv stood at his place, as if this made the offer more enticing.
Betty flinched and hoped no one noticed. “I was planning on going to the staff bonfire with the girls.”
“Great, we can join them and then take a walk on the beach.”
“It really is just for the staff.”
“Betty!”
She hated even a subtle scolding from Zaide. Give the guests what they want. That was his motto.
“I’ll meet you at nine then?” Betty looked at Zaide, who nodded.
“Isn’t that kind of late?” Mrs. Peck asked.
“I’d like to finish dinner with my grandparents first, escort some of the children to their evening activities, and go home to change clothes.”
“Always a good girl, my Betty,” Zaide said.
“That’s swell,” Marv said. “See you at nine.”
Swell.
Chapter 5
BETTY
Flames stretched and flickered in the night air. Orange-tipped sparks drifted upward toward the blue-black sky and disappeared as if they were shooting stars. Laughter swirled around Betty. She’d seen these bonfires from her bedroom window, she’d sat on her porch aching for inclusion, but never had she felt their pulse. At first she thought it was the music—Nat King Cole, Patti Page, Tony Bennett—wafting out of the portable radio set atop a red metal cooler. No, it was more like a collective heartbeat thumping with anticipation, flirtation, and carefree joy. Betty’s skin hummed.
The heat from the fire toasted the early-June air, which could still be brisk after dark. Betty removed her sweater and draped it over her arm. Marv stood next to her and stared at the fire. Did he regret coming along when no one paid him any attention? Betty looked from face to face. She didn’t see Abe. Maybe that was better. She could finish her walk with Marv and come back on her own. Surely Abe would be here later.
Couples were already wrapped together in beach blankets, facing the lake, some facing each other. Doris slow-danced with one of the waiters. Georgia stood in a circle with some of the other girls, chattering away, likely about the boys standing in a cluster nearby.
Marv placed his hand on Betty’s arm. “Let’s take a walk.”
Betty moved her arm. She wanted to stay there, bearing witness and savoring the thrill of everything around her. “I’d like to stay.”
“Your grandparents think you’re taking a walk with me.”
“You’re right.” The last thing Betty wanted was for Marv to tattle to his mother that she wasn’t a proper “date.” Betty lifted her hand to wave but no one was looking at her. She turned to the girl next to her. “This was fun.”
“It’ll get crazy later.” The girl bit her bottom lip and quickened her speech. “I don’t mean crazy, really. Just more fun. But, well . . .”
Of course she knew who Betty was, likely afraid she was part of the fun police, or her grandparents’ spy.
“It’s fab,” Betty said. “I’m not going to squeal.” She realized her grandparents must already know what went on at the beach. They didn’t just want the guests happy; they wanted the staff happy as well. “Happy help” was part of Zaide’s motto
