Eleanor tapped Marv’s leg with her hip. “She’s not Bitty Betty Stern anymore, is she? Our little girl’s all grown-up. Or that’s what I hear.”
Betty was not so mesmerized by Eleanor’s harsh words.
Marv and Eleanor chuckled. Betty scowled. Abe shook his head, not so much in disapproval but as if assessing the situation and the involved parties.
“I’m not leaving yet,” Betty said.
“You can walk me home, Marv.” Eleanor, her brown hair styled to flip like Myrna Loy’s, stared at Betty, daring her to object. Eleanor shifted her gaze to Marv, then to Abe, then back to Betty, and grinned. You can have him.
“It wouldn’t be right,” Marv said. “I came here with Betty.”
“Like Eleanor said, I live right there,” Betty said.
The only light on in her house was the screen porch, no less obvious than the lighthouse beacon. It was half past ten, according to Betty’s watch. Nannie and Zaide wouldn’t be awake to ask her about her walk with Marv. And by breakfast time they would be too busy to ask.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Betty?” Marv asked. Eleanor grabbed his hand and Marv didn’t pull away.
“Of course you’ll see her tomorrow, silly,” Eleanor said as she skipped away dragging Marv behind her. “She owns the place.”
“Eleanor’s too much,” Abe said.
“That’s a nice way of putting it.” Betty spun around and looked at the few couples necking on the beach. The fire had been doused with water. Stars were now hidden by a layer of clouds. She faced Abe. “I’d say that was my good deed for the day, wouldn’t you?”
“You played right into Eleanor’s hands.”
“I may have.”
“You didn’t want Marv to walk you home.”
“Well, let’s just say Eleanor wanted it more than I didn’t want it.”
Abe laughed. “Would you let me walk you home, Betty Stern?”
Her heart thumped. Had she heard him correctly? “Didn’t you come here with someone?”
“No.”
“I thought you said most people don’t come to bonfires alone.”
“I said no one leaves alone.”
Abe smiled a slow, wide smile, one that made his eyes crinkle at the sides. Sure, he was flirting. Thank God.
He cast down those eyes as he reached out a bent arm. And then, a moment later, he made eye contact with Betty. Even in the dark his eyes sparkled when she looked into them. Had she ever looked at anyone this way before, right into the center of their eyes as they looked back? If she had, surely their eyes hadn’t glistened like sapphires. She’d have remembered that. She’d remember this.
As Betty looped her hand through Abe’s arm, she rested her palm on the hill of muscle in his smooth forearm. Blood rushed around her body and she burned from head to toe. Abe’s smile broadened without effort, and his gaze coated her skin like a drizzle of warm summer rain.
“I would very much like you to walk me home, Abe Barsky.”
It was the loveliest name she’d ever said aloud.
As they started up the beach, Betty silently rehearsed the best way to say, “Thank you for walking me home.”
She was content to hold his arm, to walk in wordless company. Then he laid his hand atop hers and patted it three times—three times! She was certain those were not platonic or brotherly pats—she’d have been able to sense that, wouldn’t she? His hand lingered. Was that by accident or intention? Abe didn’t strike her as someone who did anything by accident. He set his hand back to his side.
“I hear you’re going to Barnard in September,” Abe said. “You must be really smart.”
“I guess.”
“Don’t be modest,” Abe said. “You should be proud. It’s hard to get into college. Especially for a girl. And Barnard is like an Ivy League, isn’t it?”
“Ivy League colleges are for boys. The Seven Sisters are their counterparts, I guess.”
“I’m sure it’ll be great. Have you ever been to New York?”
Now Betty felt foolish. “No. I applied by mail and met an alumnus in Chicago. Have you been?”
“No,” Abe said. “But it’s a dream of mine. I’m going to design skyscrapers.”
“I’m going to work in one!” Betty sensed it was safe to match his honesty.
Abe laughed but it wasn’t dismissive; it was playful. “We’re a good match then, I guess. Maybe I’ll work on the skyscraper and you’ll work in it. What do you want to do inside my skyscraper, Betty?”
Betty’s heart pounded as they stood by her porch steps. “I want to write for a magazine.” She outlined her plan for working her way to fashion editor.
Any other night, with any other boy, dreaming aloud would have been pointless. Boys weren’t interested in her plans or her dreams. Most boys were like Marv—tolerant yet glib. But Abe listened. Abe nodded. Abe did not smirk.
“I have a feeling you’ll be whatever you want to be. It’s nice to meet a girl who isn’t going to college to find a husband.” Abe inhaled. “You’re not, are you?”
Betty shook her head.
“I can tell. You have more in your head than room for recipes. Not that there’s anything wrong with marriage and kids and all.” Abe blushed. Oh my God, he blushed. “I should shut my trap now.”
Betty laughed. “You’re right. I have a lot of plans. But this summer I just want to have fun.” There. She said it. “Can I ask how you ended up working here?”
“I need extra money to help with tuition next year. I asked around. I wrote to your grandfather and explained my situation. I sent references from three professors and my hockey coach. He was really kind to hire me at the last minute.”
“That’s Zaide.”
“I’ll always be grateful.”
“I heard your family owns a store. What kind of store is it? My friend Georgia’s family owns the department store in town. Lemon’s.”
“It’s a five-and-dime, nothing fancy,” Abe said.
“And you didn’t want to work there?” Betty hadn’t
