Then Abe stepped aside.
There stood Eleanor. Again. Betty had heard the crowd call her “Easy Eleanor” behind her back. Insults like that one made her stomach churn, and she refused to take part or chime in—as long as Eleanor stayed a respectable distance from Abe.
“Well, there she is.” Eleanor’s voice reverberated like wind chimes and was equally as irritating. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Abe turned and smiled at Betty. She combed her fingers through the tendrils hanging near her face.
“You’re a goner,” Georgia whispered so softly that had she not been close enough for Betty to feel her breath, she wouldn’t have heard her friend at all. “I’m not leaving until she does.”
Betty turned around. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
When Betty looked at Abe again, he stretched out his arm toward her and opened his hand as if revealing a tiny treasure. She could see the muscles in his forearms, and she shuddered, remembering the softness of his skin, the solidity of the muscles beneath.
“What are you waiting for?” Georgia whispered, and poked Betty’s back. She turned and saw Georgia’s apricot painted lips stretched into a wide grin, her eyes crinkled closed by the smile.
Betty skipped down the steps toward Abe, but truly she could have floated. When she arrived at his side she leaned in, knowing one day it would be natural to push onto her tiptoes and kiss the day’s stubble or his dimple. No, she’d kiss both. She swallowed hard, imagining his rough jawline against her lips. He smelled earthy, like sandalwood mixed with crisp lake air. The aroma was delicate considering his size, but it was also warm and safe, which fit him. She wished Eleanor would disappear, and even Georgia—though that wish tinged her with guilt. When Georgia met someone, she’d get it. All Betty wanted was to inhale deeply, his scent as vital as oxygen. Once on their own, she and Abe could tumble back into the rhythm they’d found. Betty wanted to know every little thing about his day. Had anything funny happened in the kitchen tonight? Had he overheard any gossip while serving the guests? Had he taken a nap? Swapped a shift? Received a letter from his parents? She wanted to tell him about Mrs. Gallbladder, how Betty possessed a wristwatch in place of a mother, how his outstretched hand had already endeared him to Georgia. Instead of speaking, Betty linked her fingers with Abe’s as Eleanor watched. He’s mine.
Abe squeezed her hand. “Eleanor was just telling me about her date last night with your friend Marv.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. We went to Sherman’s Dairy Bar for ice cream and then walked on the beach,” Eleanor said.
“Well, good for you.”
Eleanor swung her hands behind her back and shifted side to side, as if humble and shy. But Betty saw how Eleanor narrowed her eyes when she looked at Georgia, and then blinked three times when she looked at Abe.
“You do know Georgia Lemon, don’t you, Abe? She hails from South Haven, and she’s practically an honorary Stern, aren’t you, Georgie?” Eleanor asked.
“Georgia, not Georgie,” Betty and Georgia said in unison.
“Of course, we’ve met,” Abe said. “Nice to see you again.”
“Nice to see you too.” Georgia stood on the ground next to Eleanor, who looked up at her. Georgia’s ginger hair was curled and styled half-up, half-down—a little fussy for the arcade—unless she had her eye on someone. Did cautious, clever Georgia have a crush?
“I have the car tonight,” Georgia said. “Let’s leave these two. I’ll give you a lift to the arcade, or wherever Marv is waiting.”
Eleanor didn’t budge.
“Eleanor?” Georgia asked. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Oh, you mean me?”
Georgia grabbed Eleanor’s arm and led her away. “Yes, you.”
Chapter 8
BETTY
For more than half an hour, Betty and Abe stood off to the side of the steps and talked. Guests nodded and smiled and stopped to chat. Betty was a Stern, never ignored.
“Have you ever had a normal summer?” Abe asked.
“This is a normal summer.”
“I mean one where you’re not on a three-month vacation?”
“Is that what you think this is for me?”
“Isn’t it?”
“I know that’s what everyone thinks. My grandfather says, ‘Let them think it.’” But she didn’t want any miscommunication with Abe. “Did you know we’re getting ready for a month before the staff arrives? I have to not only iron all the sets of curtains for every cabin, but pin up the lace panels to dry after my grandmother has cleaned them. And when I say pin, I mean with hundreds of pins. We clean the cabins ourselves. And do most of the landscaping. And while you might think leading calisthenics is easy, all those women doing whatever I say like we’re playing a game of Simon says, well, they also blame me when they can’t fit into a dress for Saturday night, when all week they’ve been feeding like horses at a trough! Oh, and don’t forget the five a.m. toilet plunging with my grandfather because he didn’t want to pay a plumber or having to cancel plans if someone calls in sick or quits. Last year I was a chambermaid all of August.”
“I didn’t realize,” Abe said.
“No one does.”
“But that’s what family is for, right? I’d do anything my mother asked.” Abe traced his finger down her nose to just above her lip. The sensation ran over her scalp and down her neck, into her shoulders, arms, torso, all the way to her toes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you grew up without your parents.”
“I had a wonderful childhood. Sometimes I think more than I had a right to.”
“You have
