“You’re not a fool.” Betty briefly touched Marv’s hand. “She was the fool. If she couldn’t commit to you as your fiancée, she wouldn’t have made a very good wife. Most of the girls I know are dying for a ring and a husband. They would do anything to make it work with a boy like you.”
“But not you.”
“Not me.” Betty whispered the words to round out any edges. She wanted to be honest, but not mean.
“When you do settle down, Betty, he’ll be one lucky son of a gun, even if it is Barsky. I have a feeling Debbie was my last shot.”
“Pity isn’t pretty.”
“What?”
“Pity isn’t pretty. That’s what Nannie would say. How do you expect to attract a wife if all you do is mope and put yourself down? It’s time to leave Debbie in the dust.”
“Is that your friendly advice?”
“It is.”
Rampant truths spun through Betty’s thoughts. She knew how Marv felt, what it was like to be left behind. The insecurity born out of her parents’ dismissal stuck to her like it had been affixed with glue, even with Nannie and Zaide stepping in to do a bang-up job as parenting grandparents. Marv would always feel the wound of losing Debbie, no matter who else he loved. Even if he packed away the loss, it would exist under everything in his life as part of its foundation, and sometimes it would seep through.
“I’m glad we’re friends,” Betty said.
“Now that you know I was dumped?”
“No, because you’re a decent guy. You’ll find someone. Someone who makes a promise and keeps it.”
Marv pressed his lips together, then exhaled. “From your lips to God’s ears.”
“You’re spending too much time with your mother.”
They laughed.
“You could be right. If you ever need anything, just ask me, Betty, okay? I’m more than just a pretty face. I can be a really good friend if you let me.” He winked, and Betty laughed again.
“You can call me Betty Boop. Just not in public. Now, go find Eleanor. Make a nice girl out of her.” Marv threw back his head and chuckled before releasing a deep and hearty sigh as Betty’s house came into view.
“He’s here.” Her breathy words floated out in sighs of relief when she saw Abe’s Sunliner parked across the street.
“I’ll be damned,” Marv said. Betty turned to him and scowled, partly in jest. “Go. But if he hurts you, he’ll have me to answer to.”
“You’re a doll,” Betty said. “But you don’t have to worry.”
Chapter 11
BETTY
Betty saw Abe sitting on the top porch step, long legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. This was the porch where child-Betty had played hopscotch, where teenage-Betty had waited for dates, where every-Betty had watched her parents drive away year after year, and where she had stood to greet them, burdened by a swirl of manners, obligation, and reluctant longing. She’d watched the sunset so often from this porch. She had always thought it did so especially for her—a selfish belief, perhaps, but what else was she supposed to think? The horizon was just outside her home, separating her lake from the sky. She now knew it was all an illusion.
But Abe was real.
Betty stood with the toes of her saddle shoes scratching up against the riser of the bottom step. She was close enough to smell Abe’s hair cream and to see his dimples dig into his cheeks as he smiled. He wore dark-blue work pants, faded and worn at the knees, like he’d had them for years. His belt was brown and worn, pulled so its tail circled halfway around his waist. His attire resembled that of delivery drivers or gas station attendants, not summer staff. It didn’t fit Betty’s image of a college boy.
His white shirt wasn’t wrinkled but it draped softly down his torso, and the sleeves were short, unlike the traditional crisp white long-sleeved tailored shirts he wore waiting tables. How long would it take her to unbutton that?
Stop.
Betty swallowed away any hitch in her voice. She might be smitten but she wasn’t going to be someone’s patsy. Not even Abe’s. If he didn’t share her feelings, she’d adjust her daydreams and growing expectations. “Fancy meeting you here.” The words sounded breezy, and not at all accusatory. Abe was clean shaven, and his skin smelled like talc and sandalwood. She bent to kiss his cheek, as if a man on her porch at midnight were commonplace, but Abe turned his face toward hers so the kiss landed on his lips instead.
Betty jerked back, or tried to, as Abe touched both sides of her face with his hands, grasping her cheeks with his fingers and drawing her into a hungry kiss. That was it—caramel! He tasted like her favorite candy—warm, sweet, and almost buttery. Betty steadied herself on the step, melting more and more into each sweep of Abe’s tongue against her own.
“My grandparents. They’ll be home soon.” Betty whispered each word without separating from Abe. He nodded and released her with tenderness. He traced her lips with his finger. Betty sat next to him but wrapped her arms around herself. This erased nothing. It didn’t matter how delicious he tasted. How much she wanted her world to be filled with kissing Abe. She wouldn’t be one of those girls who was courted on one side of the street and mocked on the other.
Betty stared ahead. It was easier to ask a difficult question if she didn’t look at him. It was also easier to hear an answer that way. She’d never taken any guff from anyone. And no matter how forcefully her heart hammered against her chest, she wasn’t going to start now.
“Hey, look at me,”
