bargain, but we didn't have to talk about it. After he dropped us off, I would at least pretend to do homework in the room. I did a lot of writing Mrs. Peter Coleridge in my notebook, which is exactly the kind of stupid behavior I used to roll my eyes at when Margie used to do it.
Mom took golf lessons, which proved to me how much a place can change you, because Mom's old idea of exercise was crossing her legs. "Who knew I'd take to golf?" she said. She grew tan and slimmer and blonder as the days went on. She'd come home laughing about her lousy score, her car plastered with orange petals. I'd watch from the window as she tossed her keys to Wally and ran up the stairs. I watched him soap the car down, washing it in slow circles, then stream water from buckets down it until it shone again. Sometimes if no one was around he'd take off his shirt and work bare-chested in the sun, and I was surprised at his tight, ropy muscles.
I don't know when it happened, but things started to turn, just a little bit, like when you smell the bottle of milk, and you know it's going to be sour tomorrow, but you pour it on your cereal anyway.
Joe was drinking more. Before dinner he'd have a drink or two before we went downstairs for cocktails. He didn't want to get the fish-eye from Grayson, he said, because Mr. Grayson only had one gin and tonic at night. He said that Mr. Grayson was dragging his feet and he didn't know why he put up with it. He asked Mom to spend more time with Mrs. Grayson, because he was sure she was putting the kibosh on the deal. He put off our return to New York again, and even had a shouting match long distance with Grandma Glad about it. Grandma Glad wasn't happy about Joe maybe starting a business in Florida.
"This is my chance, Ma!" I heard him yell. "Maybe this is my lucky day, did you ever think of that?"
Lucky days. That's what I thought. I had fistfuls of luck, and life was candy. I walked pretty, and I threaded a scarf through my belt loops and tied it tight to show off my waist. I didn't pay attention to Joe, or the Graysons. I counted each day as another day to spend with Peter.
Except that now I was tired of our drives, of Mom next to me on the seat. I wanted to see him alone.
Margie and I had memorized a poem in Every Young Girl's Guide to Popularity:
Squandered virtue was a sin, Margie told me. But she had eight kids in her family. It seemed to me that her mother squandered her virtue all over the place.
Your reputation. What did that mean? Back home, it meant you couldn't go past first base with a boy. But here ... I knew no one. No one could see. What was stopping me from finding out what lay behind Peter's kiss? He had kissed me that one time, a real kiss, right on the mouth. Sure, he'd regretted it, but he'd done it. He'd called me irresistible, so why was he resisting?
Then one night as I was falling asleep, I guessed it.
He was waiting for me to let him know I was ready.
Chapter 17
I could hear Joe's running footsteps in the hall before he swung open the door hard and looked at me. "Where's your mother?" he asked. "Playing golf."
"Come on, let's pick her up early." Joe walked in, picked me up, and swung me around. "The deal is going through. Tom made the offer, and it was accepted."
"You mean we're moving to Florida?"
"We're moving, kiddo! Nothing's been signed, but Tom and I shook hands on the deal."
"Wow!"
"We sign the papers on Wednesday. Come on, let's go spread the cheer. Tom said I could take the Cadillac." He grabbed my hand and we flew down the hall.
We jumped into the big beautiful car and Joe took off, driving down along the ocean, all the windows open. As we crossed the Lake Worth Bridge, the blue lake turned flat gray and the first drops began to fall. I heard a distant rumble of thunder.
Joe turned into the parking lot of the golf course. In front of us was a long rectangle of green that ran down the side of the lake. Golfers were pushing their carts toward the clubhouse, not hurrying too much yet in the cooling rain. We sat, waiting to see Mom, trying to spy the splash of pink of her blouse, or her white golf skirt.
I looked around the parking lot. Her car wasn't there. I was about to tell Joe, but I realized he'd already noticed. Still we sat in the car, staring at the wet grass, until every last golfer left the course and the thunder boomed.
She came in the front doors as Joe and I sat waiting. He wouldn't go upstairs, he wouldn't change, he just sat in the chair, feet planted. I wanted to wait for her out in the courtyard but he said, "Stay here, Evie," and that was that.
Mom smiled as she saw us, but something in Joe's face must have warned her, because she tossed her hair back in a way I knew well. When the rent was late, when she hadn't paid the milkman, she never got weasely, she got defiant.
Joe put down his drink and leaned back. "How was the golf game?"
She took another deliberate step forward and picked up his drink. She took a sip.
Arlene came though the door then, carrying her big canvas bag, and Mom put down the drink.
"Hello, troops," Mrs. Grayson said.
"I didn't go golfing today," Mom said. "I was with Arlene."
Arlene was wearing her sunglasses. We couldn't see her eyes. And if you weren't watching carefully, if you were, like Joe, keeping your eyes on your wife, you wouldn't have seen that she hesitated for a minute before she turned to Joe. "I found all the bargains, you'll be glad to hear," Arlene said to him. "Your wallet is safe, m'dear."
Arlene walked off to the elevator. Mom leaned over and kissed Joe. "Let me take a quick bath and I'll join you," she said. She slipped away, hurrying to catch the elevator with Mrs. Grayson.
"You didn't tell her," I said.
Joe leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
That night the voices woke me up. Arguing. "Why ties, Bev?”
“Not this again."
"Why ties? Why not gloves? Why not dresses?"
"Oh, for Pete's sake. I told you, that's where they placed me."
"The tie department?"
"That's right, Joe." Her voice was so weary.
"You must have had a lot of customers."
He hit the last word with a hard c and let it roll out, cus-to-mers.
"Shhh! You'll wake the hotel!"
I slid out of bed and went to the louvered door, put my ear against it.
"Yeah," he continued. "Mom told me how well you did, how you sold more ties in a month than the poor slob you took over for did in a year."
"Not really. There was a war on —"
"Oh, you remember that, do you?"
I heard the sounds of them moving around, getting ready for bed. The slap of the hairbrush against the vanity.
"So you recalled you had a husband in the service, that's good."
"It's late. Let's go to sleep."
"And the candy store, Bev. Nice how your uncle took care of you."
"Yeah, it was lucky."
"Evie told me. Cut you plenty of slack, gave you extra money on rent day. But then after he died, your aunt cut you off. Why do you think she did that?"