Anna had always thought Stuart handsome and had always known him to be kind but she wondered if she was giving those feelings more credence than they deserved, now that Eli Hirsch had so plainly spelled out her options. She looked around the table. Every one of Stuart’s friends on the Atlantic City Beach Patrol was a gentile. She knew for a fact that his father’s hotel didn’t rent rooms to Jews. Surely, he didn’t want a Jewish wife? Except, Anna reminded herself, he had confessed to loving Florence.
Lillian plunked herself down in Stuart’s empty chair. “I like the view from here much better,” she said, winking at Charles. Anna was inclined to hate her, not just for banishing Stuart to the far side of the table but for the easy way she captured the group’s attention. She was so casual, so frank, so painfully American.
“You’re German?”
Anna nodded and took a sip of beer. It wasn’t worth explaining that she had been born in Hungary.
“When did you meet Stuart?”
“A few months ago.”
Lillian very clearly wanted more explanation but what was there for Anna to tell? We were introduced by a girl who’s now dead.
“And you’ve been seeing each other since then?”
Anna glanced across the table at Stuart, wondering if he’d heard Lillian’s question. Charles was in the middle of a story of his own, but there was something about the way Stuart sat, upright, one ear toward Lillian and Anna’s conversation, that made Anna wonder if he was trying hard to listen in.
“Stuart’s been teaching me to swim.”
“Oh, so you’re not seeing each other?” Lillian persisted.
The phrase seeing each other seemed like such a strange euphemism for dating. Anna stared at her hand—still in her lap. What could she say other than no? She shook her head.
“In that case,” said Lillian, “half the girls in Atlantic City will sleep easier tonight.”
“Oh?”
“It’s true. Charles says they all fall for Stuart. A handsome member of the Beach Patrol who also happens to be the heir to a hotel fortune. What could be better, right?”
Anna took a long swallow of beer. Lillian was unbearable.
“There was some girl he was hung up on for a while. But I think that’s all in the past now.”
Who was she talking about? Florence? Anna had to get away from Lillian. She drained her beer, put the bottle down on the table, mumbled something about having to use the lavatory, and disappeared into the back of the bar, where a waiter pointed her toward the water closet. After she had found the little room, she closed the door behind her with a grateful thud, threw the lock, and leaned heavily against the door’s louvered slats.
Lillian sounded incredibly crass, the way she talked about Stuart. But was Anna any better? Wasn’t she just another girl who was trying to convince Stuart to fall in love with her? The girls Lillian knew wanted Stuart for his father’s money, and Anna wanted him for his citizenship. He probably deserved a girl who wanted neither.
There was a light knocking on the door of the water closet. Anna felt the vibrations in her shoulder blades. “I’ll be out in a minute,” she called.
“It’s me,” said Stuart. “What do you think about getting out of here?”
Outside Bert’s, the sun had begun to set and the sky looked almost lavender. Stuart suggested they walk along the beach, instead of the Boardwalk, so they both kicked off their shoes and carried them in their hands as they made their way south along the edge of the sand.
“When we get closer to the apartment,” Stuart said, “we can decide whether we still want to swim.” Anna could tell he was being gentle with her. Usually, when it came to her lessons, there was no getting out of them. But he seemed to sense that the outing had gone poorly, or at least not well.
“I’m sorry I moved seats,” he said.
Anna let out a little laugh.
“What?” he asked, smiling. “I didn’t know she’d be so bad.”
“She’s terrible.”
Stuart scrunched up his nose. “I feel rather bad for Charles.”
“Charles! What about me?”
“You’re right, you’re completely right,” said Stuart, nudging her shoulder affectionately with his. “For the record, I can’t get any girl in Atlantic City.”
“Oh?”
“Kitty Carlisle performed at the Nixon Theatre last month, and she wouldn’t even return my calls.”
Anna grinned. He’d obviously heard every word Lillian had said. “You must have been despondent.”
“I was,” he said with a grin. “Want to swim here?”
They’d come to a spot of beach not far from Steel Pier. By the time Anna could respond, Stuart had already dropped his shoes in the sand and pulled his shirt over his head. Tentatively, she began to undress.
“Is this okay?” Stuart asked, sensing her trepidation. “If you hate swimming in the ocean, we’ll go back to the pool tomorrow.”
“It’s fine,” she said as she worked the buttons on her dress. She didn’t feel fine, she felt like a complete fraud. Her dress slipped off one shoulder, exposing the bright green suit underneath.
“Anna Epstein, do I detect a new bathing suit?”
She could feel her face flush but she made a point of giving him what she hoped was a coquettish smile.
“Let me see it. All of it.”
Anna skipped the rest of the buttons and pulled the dress over her head instead. “Ta-da,” she said, hoping she came off like a girl who was always buying new bathing suits and parading them around the beach.
Stuart seemed to sense she needed reassurance. “You look beautiful.” He grabbed her hand, briefly, and said, “The suit’s nice, too.”
Suddenly Anna wished for the dingy black bathing
