Silence fell on the table with a thud you could practically hear against your eardrums.
"What's this, Joe?" Peter looked from Joe to Mr. Grayson. "You two going into business together?”
“Tom?" Mrs. Grayson asked.
"Well, we need to do some research," Mr. Grayson said. "Spin down the coast, maybe to Miami, look at the hotels down there. Get a sense of things. But this place could be a gold mine. No question about that."
"So you're going in partners, Joe? That's great news," Peter said.
"Trust and a handshake," Joe said. "That's all a partnership is."
"And then there's the follow-through," Peter said. "We should all move here!" I said. I tried to catch Peter's eye.
"Sure, why not," Mrs. Grayson said. "I love Palm Beach." She laughed, and it sounded like silverware ringing against a plate.
"I'm thinking about tennis lessons," Mom said.
"There's the ticket," Joe said. "That will keep you busy. Tennis, golf, whatever you want. You can play year-round in Florida, you know. Hey, let's order some champagne."
"There's a golf course in Lake Worth that's right by the lake," Peter said. "It gets breezy in the afternoons.”
“That sounds like it's for me," Mom said.
We ate our chicken and our shrimp. Mrs. Grayson poured me a half-glass of champagne, and Joe didn't even mind. Mom had two glasses of champagne and glowed even brighter. Mrs. Grayson smoked instead of ate, and Mr. Grayson and Joe talked hotels.
"Let's have our coffee in the lobby," Mr. Grayson suggested, and everyone pushed back their chairs.
"Bed for me," Mrs. Grayson said brightly.
"Me, too," Mom said. "That champagne gave me a little headache."
"Mine is the size of Florida," Mrs. Grayson said, even though she hadn't touched hers.
"I'll come up with you, honey," Joe said.
"Don't be silly," Mom said. "Have your business talk with Tom. I'm taking two aspirin and going to bed."
I wandered after them into the lobby. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about me. When Peter said good-bye he barely looked at me. Tom and Joe picked a quiet corner, while Mom and Mrs. Grayson headed to the elevators.
I guessed Peter was being careful; he didn't want to get Joe steamed again. I felt lonesome, drifting around the lobby, too lonesome even for a game of solitaire.
In a few minutes I saw Wally come in and head for the desk. He was whistling under his breath, so I knew it was the end of his shift. I didn't want him to see me, so I ducked out of the lobby fast.
I killed some time doing what I used to do, walking through the hallways, peeking into the empty ballroom, looking for the fat man in the bar. Finally I slipped out a side door.
I breathed in the night air. Why did the air here smell like a pocketful of promises? It was the flowers and the ocean and the sky all mixed in together.
And then I saw Peter across the street, saw the gleam of his blond hair and the white of his jacket. The world seemed to fall away and arrange itself around him, and it was perfect.
He heard my clattering footsteps as I ran toward him, and he turned, surprised. "It's you, pussycat. What's the matter, can't sleep?" He took my hand. "Come on, let's go to the beach."
Perfect.
Chapter 15
A fat custard moon was splat in the purple sky, and a few stars were beginning to pop like fireworks. We left our shoes in the sand and walked down to the water. The baby waves lapped at our toes.
"Funny thing about the moon," Peter said. "When I was overseas, I'd look up at it, and I couldn't get that the same moon was over here, too. Everything happens underneath the same moon. Things you never thought you'd see. Or do."
I knew he was talking about the war, and I felt I shouldn't ask about it. So I kept quiet. I ducked my chin and looked up at him sideways, like Lauren Bacall in the movie we'd just seen.
But he wasn't looking at me. He was looking down the beach. "When I enlisted, I didn't know anything. What did I know? All I did was ... play tennis, be a rich man's only son."
"But you have a brother."
"Oh, yeah. But the expectations were all on me. Dad wanted me to go into the navy — he nearly busted a gut when I chose the infantry. I got tossed into the worst of it right after basic training. Went from sweltering in basic to freezing my ... well, freezing. All I knew how to do was march. Which didn't help me much. We didn't march in the Battle of the Bulge. We scrambled. I guess you read all about it in the papers."
"We didn't know Joe was in it until later. But we were scared he was." We'd known, even during the battle, how badly it was going. Nineteen thousand U.S. soldiers had been killed. Nineteen thousand. One of them had lived two doors down — William Armstrong, twenty years old. I remembered him as being the best whistler. Whistling "Chattanooga Choo Choo" as he walked by our house. Going to pick up his sweetheart, Rose Natalucci, on Saturday nights. The sound coming in my open window like a brass band, only it was just Billy Armstrong.
"Mud and snow and idiots. That was that."
"Did you meet Joe then?"
It was like he only just remembered I was there. "Hey, I'm not dumb enough to keep talking about the war with a pretty girl. Let's talk about you."
I shrugged, searching for something to say. Every
Young Girl's Guide to Popularity had always said to talk about the boy, not yourself.
"Tell me about home," he prompted. "Start there."
"Well, everybody's always in your business in my neighborhood. Everybody knows everybody, practically. And we live with Joe's mother. I'm supposed to call her Grandma Glad."
Peter snorted. "And she's a battle-axe, right?"
"How'd you know? Anyway, Mom keeps saying the house is too small now. So maybe we'll move. Maybe here," I said. "Since Joe and Mr. Grayson might buy the hotel."
Peter laughed softly. "Yeah, so I found out tonight.”
“What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing, I guess. I don't get it, though. I thought Joe was selling those new washing machines."
"He's tired of it, he says."
"I wonder how much he's putting up."
"Nothing, he says. He's going to run it."
Peter shrugged. "I don't see what Grayson gets out of the deal. Or what a swanky couple like that is doing here in the off-season."
"I was thinking that maybe they're spies."
Peter laughed. "You've got some imagination, kiddo."
"It's just that... she's not happy, she just pretends. And he never talks about himself if he can help it. And she's always taking off alone. There's a big airbase here. Who knows what secret things they might be doing. She carries this big bag —”
“Full of spy stuff, right?"
"Well, what better cover would there be than owning a hotel? And I don't think she's very patriotic."
Peter nodded solemnly. "Definitely Commie spies."
He was treating me like a kid, which was definitely not a good thing.
"Do you ever think about moving here?" I asked. "Because of your father's business interests, I mean."
"Right. No, I haven't given it much thought. But maybe I should. Isn't that what your mother said, people need to start fresh?"
"That's just what I thought. I don't want to go home," I said.
He looked at me, smiling just a little. "Poor little bunny. Why is that?"
I forgot to tuck in my chin and look up, but it didn't matter.
"You're irresistible," he said. He leaned down and put his mouth on mine.
It was only a second. A quick kiss. He didn't even put his arms around me. But it was a kiss, a real kiss. Right on the lips. I felt his whiskery stubble against my chin. I was being kissed, and by a man, not a boy.
I understood the word swoon. It felt that way, like sweep and moon and woo, all those words smashed together in one word that stood for that feeling, right then.