She took a seat in the departure lounge, adjusted her skirt and pulled the book she was reading from her oversize purse, glad she had a gripping mystery to distract her. She was aware of the glances coming her way, at the sight of a pretty girl reading I, the Jury, by Mickey Spillane, known for his racy language, but Ruby didn’t give a hoot. Let them look. Let them stare. It was nothing to her.
Across from her an older couple were talking in voices loud enough for her to hear. The wife said, “You have a long drive. You should get going, and don’t forget to pick up my Voluptés from Irene Ammerman. You remember where she lives?”
He said, “I’m not leaving until I see you on the plane.”
“That’s sweet, Ben, but it doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes sense to me.”
She laughed. “You’re such a romantic.”
“Me, you’re calling me a romantic?”
“Maybe not every day but when it counts.”
He laughed and kissed her.
She said, “Ben, people can see…”
“So? I’m not allowed to kiss my wife in public after thirty-five years?”
Ruby smiled to herself. She couldn’t remember a time when her parents kidded around that way.
“Excuse me,” a young man said, “but is anyone sitting here?”
Ruby sighed and moved her bag, meant to discourage other passengers from sitting next to her. He sat down, hoping to start up a conversation, she could tell.
“My mother thinks I’m driving to Florida,” he said, “either that or taking the train. I have six brothers. Every one of us served overseas. I’m the youngest.”
“I thought there was a rule about not allowing all the sons in a family to serve.”
“Well, they took us. We wanted to serve. And we all came back.” He smiled at her. “What about you?”
She didn’t feel like telling him she was a dancer. So she said, “My fiancé is in Miami. He was in the war, too. I’m going down for the holidays to stay with him and his family.” The look on his face said it all. Surprise and disappointment. After all, she wasn’t wearing a ring. She felt bad. He seemed like a nice boy but there was no point. “I’ll bet you’ll have a great time in Miami,” she said.
“Do you have any single friends there?” he asked. “Maybe your fiancé has a sister?”
“No, sorry. But I’m sure you won’t have any trouble meeting girls. You’re a very nice-looking young man.”
“Not so young. I’ll be twenty-five on my next birthday.”
“I never would have guessed.”
“How about you?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Younger or older?”
“Younger, of course.”
She laughed. “Of course.”
“I’m Paul Stefanelli, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Ruby Granik,” she told him, letting him shake hers.
“How’s the book, Ruby?” He nodded at the book on her lap.
“Can’t put it down,” she said. “So if you’ll excuse me…”
“Sure. I get it.” He got up and wandered away.
Leah
Leah Cohen was hoping Henry Ammerman would pop the question soon, maybe over the holidays. She was going to his house later today to celebrate his sister Rusty’s birthday. Henry’s mother sold Volupté compacts wholesale. A girl could never have too many Voluptés. She’d probably get a few from the mothers of the children in her second-grade class. Last year she did. They sure beat fruitcakes, which she gave away, or bad perfume, which she poured down the toilet.
She knew in order to win Henry she’d have to win the rest of his family, and she felt she was doing a pretty good job of it, mainly by keeping her mouth shut. They thought she was shy, quiet, a nice girl from a nice Cleveland family. A teacher. And she was all that, wasn’t she?
She’d been seeing Henry for almost eighteen months. She’d met him at a party given by one of the other teachers at her school after she’d moved to New Jersey to live with her aunt Alma. Her mother swore the only way she’d let Leah leave Cleveland was if she lived with family. Alma, her mother’s sister, liked the idea of Leah sharing her house and helping with the expenses. As far as Leah was concerned, anything was better than staying in Cleveland and living with her parents. Aunt Alma was a retired school secretary who’d never married. A maiden aunt, Leah’s mother called her, but one who played canasta with her friends three afternoons a week, and volunteered at the hospital every Friday morning.
Alma approved of Henry and had told Leah’s mother so. Well, who in her right mind wouldn’t approve of Henry, a reporter for the Elizabeth Daily Post? Henry was smart, kind, funny and very attractive. When he’d first enlisted, right out of high school, he hoped to serve as a reporter for Stars and Stripes, since he’d been editor in chief of the Monticello Times, the school newspaper at Jefferson High. But after just three months of training he’d been sent into battle. He said he was lucky to get out alive. Most of his company didn’t. He was in the hospital for two months with a shot-up leg. After that he got his wish, a desk job with Stars and Stripes in London, until six months after the war ended. He said he learned more from those journalists than he ever did at college.
As much as Aunt Alma said she liked Henry, lately she’d been warning Leah about men in general, and Henry, in particular. Why should he buy the cow if he can get the milk for free? Aunt Alma’s advice, when it came to romance, was so old-world. Besides, Henry never pushed her to go too far. She might not have minded a little push. It wasn’t like they were teenagers, after all. Henry had turned twenty-eight over the summer and she would be twenty-four on her next birthday. And guess what, Aunt Alma? He wasn’t getting much at all, never mind for free. Though, honestly, if she turned twenty-five and she still wasn’t engaged, she saw no point in saving it. She might as well enjoy it while she still could. She was pretty sure Aunt Alma had never enjoyed hers.
When the notice had come around at school asking for volunteers, especially teachers who had experience with young children, to chaperone a holiday party at the Elks Club in Elizabeth, Leah thought her principal might be impressed to see what a community-minded young woman she was, willing to give her time on a Sunday afternoon the week before Christmas.
Another teacher at her school, Harriet Makenna, also volunteered and, better yet, offered to drive Leah, saving her from waiting for the bus from Cranford to Elizabeth in this weather. When she told Henry, he said he’d be covering the event for the Daily Post and he’d have a photographer with him. So Leah chose a pretty dress in a deep winter blue, even though she knew the picture in the paper wouldn’t be in color. At the last minute she tied on an apron. You never knew when some child was going to be sick or fling something that would land on you.
More than a hundred kids came to the holiday party. There were plenty of volunteers, many of them parents, and they divided the children into groups by age. She and Harriet and two of the mothers took the four- to seven-year-olds and handed out Dixie Cups to get things going. Right away a little girl shouted, “I got Lassie!” She licked the cover of her Dixie Cup clean to show Leah.
Another began to cry. “I want Lassie, too.”
“Let’s see who you have,” Leah said, wiping the child’s tears. “Go ahead and lick it clean so we can see.” She did and held it up to Leah.
“Ooh, you have Natalie Wood!” Leah told her. “You’re lucky because Natalie Wood is a very famous movie star, and look how pretty she is. And you know what? She was a movie star when she was your age.”
“I’m six.”
“Well, that’s swell. Six is a good age to be.”
When Henry arrived with the photographer, who didn’t look old enough to drive, Leah took off her apron, smoothed out her blue dress and reapplied her lipstick. Harriet, who knew Leah and Henry were seeing each other, whispered, “You look good enough to be the photo on a Dixie Cup.”
“As good as Lassie?” Leah whispered.
“Nobody can compete with Lassie.”
Leah laughed, then clapped her hands to get the children’s attention. “Boys and girls,” Leah said. “This is Mr. Henry Ammerman. He’s a reporter for the Elizabeth Daily Post and he’s going to write a story about us.” She liked saying his name out loud. Henry Ammerman. When she did, Henry waved at the children.
“And this is Todd Dirkson,” Henry said of the boy photographer. “He’s going to take a picture. Maybe you’ll see it in tomorrow’s paper.” Todd held up his Speed Graphic, so the children could see his camera.
Henry and Todd conferred, then suggested they gather around the piano.
Leah sat down and began to play the introduction to “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” She motioned for the children to sit on the floor around her. Some were still eating their Dixie Cups with the little wooden spoons, some faces were already smeared with chocolate frosting from the cupcakes. Harriet ran around with a damp cloth trying to wipe their faces clean, knowing the parents would want their children to look their Sunday best in the paper.