“Thanks for the dance, Betty,” Marv said.
She wondered if he was off to see Eleanor. “You’re welcome.”
Marv nodded once at Zaide. “Good night, sir.” He walked toward the door as the music grew louder and Betty began to fox-trot with Zaide by rote.
How lucky Marv was to be on vacation for the whole summer, away from his work and responsibilities. Did that mean he wasn’t essential to his father’s business? This thought tumbled through Betty’s thoughts as she and Zaide danced.
He leaned in to her ear. “You seem a little distracted, bubbeleh. What’s wrong?”
“I was just thinking about the Miss South Haven contest.” It was better to be distracted by a beauty pageant than by a boy. At least to Zaide. “Nancy Green is in Europe.”
“I heard about that.”
“Do you think I have a shot? I mean, I’m going to enter anyway, but, oh, Zaide! I really want to win. Wouldn’t that be a swell thing to do before I go to Barnard?”
“That would make Nannie and me very proud.”
“We’d get a lot of free publicity, wouldn’t we?”
“That’s what I’ve heard.”
“I’ll do my best, I promise.”
“You’re a beautiful girl, and the judges would be fools not to see it, whether there’s a Nancy Green or not.” Zaide smiled, twirled Betty, and spoke into her ear. “I think someone is waiting for you by the door.”
Betty craned her neck, but with the dancing and the crowd and the low light it was hard to discern one black or blue jacket from another. Still, Betty’s heart felt as if it nearly skipped a beat, as though her feet were atop Zaide’s like when she was a little girl as they turned in time to the music. Zaide was smiling. He approved. She glanced around the smoke-shrouded glamour to the door, the corners, no Abe. “Don’t tease me, Zaide.”
“Look.”
Zaide motioned with his chin, and as if he were the conductor, the music stopped. Zaide kissed Betty atop her head, held her shoulders, and turned her toward the door. “He’s a nice boy. Go, have fun.”
That’s when she saw Marv walking through the doors into the lobby.
Did Zaide think she was dating Marv? Did anyone else think she was dating Marv?
Betty wished she could have told Zaide she didn’t like Marv, not like that. Zaide had urged her off the dance floor, so Betty pushed through the dining room doors. Marv paced the lobby, tossing and catching a peach as if it were a baseball.
His actions were cavalier and casual, in contrast to his tightly slicked-back hair and tailored semiformal. But she had to admit he was neatly groomed. And a decent dancer.
Betty turned toward the window before Marv looked at her.
Outside the window, light spilled onto the steps and the lawn. Moonlight brightened the sky to a bluish gray, and the beacon from South Haven lighthouse shined like a flame, casting its spell over the water.
Betty cupped her hands by her temples to block the glare. She needn’t squint and strain her eyes to know that Abe hadn’t waited for her this long; she was more than an hour late. A current of sadness pulsed through her; then a sharp pain pinched her chest. She laid her hand on her heart and felt it thump. Tomorrow. She’d catch a glimpse of him tomorrow. Betty didn’t want to be one of those girls who whined and whimpered when her boyfriend was out of sight. She’d go home, set her hair, and go to sleep while the band played swing and jazz and the guests drank Manhattans and whiskey sours.
She hoped Abe would explain why he’d left. She’d certainly apologize for being late, though he’d likely say she didn’t need to apologize for anything. He understood she was devoted to her family, because he was devoted to his. She was just doing her job—her this-is-not-a-vacation job—as the Stern granddaughter.
Betty tugged at the fingers of her left glove, yanked it off, and did the same for the right. Darn, she’d left her clutch on the table inside. She tucked the gloves into one hand. She didn’t need her lipstick because the night was over, or her key, because her front door was always unlocked.
“I told my mother I was walking you home.”
Betty adjusted her gaze and saw Marv’s reflection behind her own in the window. She wasn’t in the mood for polite small talk. “Why did you do that?”
“She likes you.”
Betty fiddled with her gloves. “That’s nice to hear, but please don’t make up stories about me.”
“It won’t be a story if you let me walk you home.”
“I thought we could be friends. We danced—and it was nice. But if it’s all the same to you, I’ll walk home myself.”
“It’s only a block and a half, Betty, but if I was your guy, I wouldn’t let you go on your own.”
“Well, you’re not ‘my guy.’” She hadn’t meant to snap, but he had nerve. He didn’t know anything about Abe.
Marv held up his hands in surrender. “I’m just trying to be a gentleman, that’s all.”
Betty rolled her eyes. “I think the last thing you’re trying to be is a gentleman.”
“Betty Claire Stern!”
Betty swung around. “Nannie, I didn’t know you were there.”
“Apparently not!”
Marv raised and lowered one eyebrow. Nannie had been just out of Betty’s view and he knew it.
Nannie pressed the white beaded clutch into Betty’s hands. “I think you owe Marvin an apology.”
“But—”
“No buts. And I think it would be nice for him to walk you home. There isn’t anyone else waiting for you, is there?”
As if Betty needed the reminder. “No, Nannie.”
“It’s settled then. Thank you for being so thoughtful, Marvin.” Nannie gave Betty “the look” and walked back into the dining room.
“Don’t get all bent out of shape about me asking to walk you home. I’m a nice guy. Ask Eleanor.”
“I think we have different definitions for ‘nice guy.’”
“Ouch.” Marv held open the door.
“Thank you.” Betty
