It was mid-afternoon when we came out, the time of day when the heat bounced up from the sidewalk and slammed you in the face, and you felt like you could lick moisture out of the air.
"How about a soda at Walgreens?" Peter asked.
"A soda at the drugstore," Mom said. "That sounds keen!" She said it with a too-chirpy voice, and Peter grinned, even though I guess she was teasing him about being young, and not that nicely, either. He was a good sport not to get mad, and I wanted to kick Mom for being mean to him.
We sat at the soda fountain and ordered Cokes. The ice was crushed, and the soda was cold and delicious. There was a local high school crowd there, and I saw Wally again. He looked different now, in loose pants and a short-sleeve shirt, his hair unruly. Instead of looking younger, he looked older, my age. In his evening clothes and his bellhop uniform he'd looked like he'd been wearing his father's clothes. I was glad that he could see me now. I tossed my hair as I smiled up at Peter, just so Wally would know I was on a date.
He raised a hand to wave at me, and I gave him a little wave back.
"Friend of yours?" Mom asked.
"He works at the hotel," I explained.
"Why don't you go talk to him?"
"I don't want to."
Peter gave me the tiniest push at the base of my spine. "Come on. Give the fella a thrill."
I could feel that one tiny spot burning as I walked over to Wally and said hello. "We've been to the movies," I said.
"Yeah, that's the way to keep cool. I saw that picture, too." Wally slurped up some soda and looked at his shoes. He didn't even know enough to ask me to sit down. "So, New York, have you ever been to the Empire State Building?"
"Sure," I said.
"How about Radio City?"
"You bet. You can get free tickets to the radio shows." I wondered if Wally was going to lead me through a list of New York tourist attractions. He was trying to make conversation, and he was a bore. Behind me I heard Peter laugh at something Mom had said. Was he being a good sport again? I was dying to get back so I could protect him from her.
"I went to Washington, D.C., once, before the war," Wally told me. "My dad is going to take me to Tampa."
"That sounds nice," I said politely.
"We go out on the boat every Saturday. It's not a big boat, but it's fun. There's plenty of stuff to see, neat places to go. Have you ever seen a cypress swamp?"
True, I was in a whole new state. But could it be that a boy was getting up the nerve to ask me to tour a swamp}
"You want a cherry Coke? I'll get Herb to mix you one."
"I'd better get back to my date," I told him.
"Your date?" He looked surprised as he looked over my shoulder at Peter and Mom. "Well, okay. See you around." No boy had ever asked to buy me a soda before. A month ago, it would have felt nice, even though it was only Wally the bellhop. Now it didn't mean anything, because all I could think of while I was talking to him was how quickly I could get back to Peter.
Mom was looking in her compact and Peter was tossing coins on the counter when I finally rid myself of Wally. It was the end of my date, and I'd hardly said more than ten words to Peter. On the drive back to the hotel I wondered how I could see him again. Ahead stretched an evening of cards and dinner and staring out the window at the moon. It seemed impossible that I could get through it without him.
He drove up to the hotel and parked. When he came around to open the door for us, he leaned in before we got out.
"Thank you for the company, ladies. Let's do it again."
Mom got out of the car and I followed, embarrassing myself by sticking to the seat as I tried to wiggle over. I tried to swing my legs out gracefully, the way Mom had.
Mom put out her hand, and he shook it.
"Thanks for the movie," she said. "And the keen soda."
"Anytime."
"Well," Mom said, slipping her hand out of Peter's, "I think I'll go for a walk down Worth Avenue and see if I can find a store that's open."
"I'll come," I said.
She shook her head. "Homework time."
I couldn't believe she'd brought up homework in front of Peter. I couldn't believe my parents had made me bring books to Florida in the first place. Furious, I watched as she walked off, her chiffon scarf trailing from her hand.
"You're a peach, Evie Spooner," Peter said.
And then he waited, just like in the movies, to watch me walk up the stairs into the hotel. When I turned around he was still looking. Behind him, my mother continued down the middle of the empty street, her scarf fluttering like some exotic tropical bird.
Chapter 13
All afternoon after the movie I lay on my bed and dreamed in a haze of heat. I built a future with Peter using geography and hope. He lived in Oyster Bay — a huge distance from Queens, and not just in miles. Out there they had lawns and big white houses and not a luncheonette in sight. But he had a car.
It was cocktail time and Mom wasn't back yet. I went to the connecting door and peeked in. Joe had changed his shirt and combed back his hair. As he waited, he smoked a cigarette and tapped his knee with his fingers in a constant Gene Krupa drum solo. He didn't seem in the mood for company.
Joe's impatience kept rolling through the open door. I could hear the drumming, hear him stub out another cigarette. Finally I heard him pick up the phone and call the front desk. He asked for Mom, then grunted, which meant she wasn't back yet.
"In another minute I'm calling out the marines, Evie!" he shouted cheerfully at me.
The tone in his voice gave me the nerve to ask the question I was dying to have him answer. We were stuck together waiting for Mom, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity.
I hovered in the doorway between our rooms. "What was Peter like during the war?" I asked, trying to make it sound like I was just making conversation.
Joe looked at me strangely. "Why are you asking?"
"No reason. I just never met a buddy of yours from the war."
"He wasn't a buddy. He just thinks he was. I didn't really know him. That's all I can tell you."
That wasn't much to go on. I wanted to ask another question, but I heard the click of her heels through the louvered door.
She walked in, her hair loose now and around her shoulders, carrying the ugliest vase I've ever seen. It was bright yellow and green, in the shape of a pineapple.
"What in the name of Sam Hill is that?" Joe asked.
Mom put it on the dresser. "A present for Grandma Glad." She smoothed her hair in the mirror.
"Bev, for crying out loud, it's past six. Where have you been?"
"I got my hair done. You never notice. And I did a little shopping." Mom came over and bent down to kiss me. I smelled Life Savers on her breath — and, behind that, something sweet. "Arlene told me about some of her favorite places."
Joe gave a doubtful look at the vase. "She should get out more."
Mom went into the bathroom to change. "Well, you're being an awful sourpuss."
"I wanted to talk to you. I have big news. Evie, this news is for you, too." Joe gave a dramatic pause as Mom came out of the bathroom in her slip. She tossed her white skirt and blouse on the floor of the closet.
Joe continued, "I had a very interesting afternoon with Tom. We're talking about going into business together."
"Oh." Mom crossed to the vanity. "Business.”
“Tom is thinking of buying this hotel and he wants me in on the deal." Joe rolled out the words like a red carpet. He waited for Mom's reaction.
"What do you know about hotels?" Mom asked. "This is practically the first one you've ever stayed in."
"Tom knows. And I know business. We talked it all out today. We don't think we have much competition. Plus we've got a pretty good idea of what a swanky little hotel down here is like. We're thinking maybe a dress shop in the lobby — that would be right up your alley, Bev. Let's keep it on the Q.T., though. Tom hasn't even told Arlene yet. And you don't want to get the word out there until you're set. You don't want the competition to find out and grab your deal."