Gussie looked confused and turned to her father, “Dad, but she can’t—”
Before Gussie could get anything else out, Anna reached forward, grabbed her hand, gave the group an apologetic smile, and guided her inside the candy store. Stuart waited a few seconds to excuse himself, then followed them inside, where he found Anna and Gussie among several large bins of saltwater taffy. Anna was at eye level with Gussie, smoothing her hair as she spoke to the child in soft, soothing tones. Stuart had to get close before he could hear what she was saying.
“… important not to tell.”
Gussie looked like she was on the verge of tears. “But I thought we were just keeping the secret from Mother.” Her lip started to quiver. “Because, because, because of the baby.”
“Shhhh,” whispered Anna. “It’s confusing, I know.”
Stuart approached the pair and crouched low. “I think your grandparents are worried that, if lots of people know Florence has died, someone will tell your mother. It makes it easier to keep the secret if only a small number of people know.”
“We’re like a special club,” said Anna. “Have you ever been in a club?”
“Like a secret club?” Gussie asked.
“Yes, the most secret kind of club. The kind with handshakes and passwords and secret languages,” said Anna.
“Some of the girls at school are in a secret club.”
“Not you?” Anna asked.
She shook her head sadly. “In their club, they speak Pig Latin.”
“But that’s barely secret at all!” Stuart said, allowing a look of horror to fall over his face. “Everyone knows Pig Latin!”
“Our club is top secret,” said Anna.
“And I’m a member?” Gussie asked.
“All of us are members,” said Stuart, looking at Anna. “Everyone who knows what happened to Florence.”
“Do we have a secret handshake?” asked Gussie.
“ ‘Do we have a secret handshake?’ Anna, can you even believe what this girl is asking? ‘Do we have a secret handshake?’ We’ve got a secret handshake and a secret language!”
He grabbed Gussie’s small wrist and squeezed it twice before curling her pinkie into her palm and tugging at her thumb. “Is that secret enough for you?” he asked, grinning at her.
“And our secret language?”
“Anna, should we tell her the secret language? Do you think she’s ready for something so top secret?”
Anna made a face, as if she were carefully assessing Gussie’s secret-keeping attributes.
“I think she will do all right with such a big secret.”
Stuart had to think fast to come up with something. “It’s called ARP Talk, and it’s much more sophisticated than Pig Latin. You have to say ‘arp’ before every vowel sound. So, your name is Garp-u-sarp-ie. And I’m Starp-u-arpart.”
“What’s Anna’s name?”
“Arpann-arpa, of course.”
Gussie practiced for a few minutes. She said the made-up words for beach and sand and home.
“You’re quite good,” said Anna.
“So, the club rules are pretty straightforward,” said Stuart. “Don’t share the secret handshake with anyone who’s not a member, don’t teach anyone who’s not in the club the secret language, and—” He hesitated here. “Don’t tell anyone that Florence is dead.”
“Do I have to tell them she’s alive?” Gussie asked.
Stuart looked at Anna, who shook her head no. “Nope, you can just change the subject. Or say nothing at all.” Stuart eyed the bins of taffy. “Hold on one second.”
He grabbed a large handful of individually wrapped pieces of taffy and put them in a small paper sack, which he took up to the counter to be weighed. When he returned, candy in hand, he distributed three pieces to each of them and instructed them to remove the waxed wrappers.
“This is a very solemn part of the initiation ceremony,” he said, trying to make his face look serious. “I want you to put all three pieces of taffy in your mouth at once and repeat the following after me.”
As Gussie unwrapped her candy, Anna whispered “thank you,” to him over the top of Gussie’s head.
He shrugged his shoulders, to indicate it was nothing. “You’d better unwrap yours, too.”
When all three of them had worked the papers off their candies and placed the soft taffy in their mouths, Stuart said the only rhyme that came to mind, very fast: “One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret, never to be told,” and the girls repeated it, laughing at how ridiculous they all sounded.
They chewed in silence for several minutes, their mouths full of the sticky treat.
Gussie tried to ask Stuart something but it took her three tries before he could make out what she was saying.
“Should we initiate my father and grandparents?”
Stuart swallowed, then cleared his throat. “They’re already full-fledged members of the club. If you want to, just to be nice, you can offer them a piece of candy.”
“But we’ll initiate my mother?”
Stuart tried to imagine a scenario in which Fannie had had her baby, been told about her sister’s death, and recovered from both experiences sufficiently to sit with her daughter in James Candy Company, stuffing her mouth with taffy.
“Sure, after the baby’s been born, and someone’s had a chance to tell her about Florence,” said Stuart, watching Gussie’s face carefully to be sure she understood. He thought she did. Anna patted her head.
“Are we ready to go?” Stuart asked them both.
“Stop!” said Gussie just as he had begun moving toward the door. “What’s our name?”
“Name?”
“Our club name,” said Gussie. “All secret clubs have names.”
“By Jove, you’re right,” said Stuart, smacking his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Anna, why didn’t we tell her the club’s name?” He was clearly stalling, a fact that Anna seemed to pick up on with little problem and that Gussie was willing to ignore.
“I don’t know how we forgot,” Anna said, offering up an apologetic smile but no name to go along with it.
His mind flashed through images: Florence tucking her hair under her red bathing cap, Florence plunging into the waves from the
