yes. Lily, roll up the window, it’s freezing.” Budgie puts the car in gear and lifts the brake.
I roll up the window. “Good-bye,” I say again, through the disappearing gap, feeling desperate. It can’t be over, not yet, not when everything is hovering on the brink. “I hope your leg feels better!”
Oh, God. I hope your leg feels better?
Nick says something, but Budgie is already popping the clutch, rolling away, and his words lose themselves in the crack of the window.
“Well, that was nice. Wasn’t that nice? Did you and Nick have a nice chat?” Budgie is warm, electric, seething with energy. She pats her hair, smooths it, and changes gears. Her hat has disappeared.
“Yes. He’s very nice.”
She glances sideways. “Souvenir?”
Nick’s jacket. “Oh, no!” I clutch the collar with one hand and brace the other on the door. “Turn around, quick!”
Budgie laughs and leans forward to turn on the radio. “You amateur, you. You don’t have the slightest idea, do you?”
“About what?”
“Listen, the deal is, you keep the jacket, honey. Then you’ve got an excuse to come with me next week and give it back.”
“Oh.” I put my hands in my lap and stare ahead, at the pavement rolling past the beam of the headlamps, at the tunnel of trees on either side of the road. The scent of soap and cedar still rises from the jacket. Nick’s scent. A giddy wheel of anticipation starts to spin inside my stomach. From the radio comes the tinny scratch of “Goodnight, Sweetheart,” filling the Ford with sentiment. I add: “I guess you’re right.”
BUT FOR ONCE, Budgie is wrong. In the morning, just before seven, I am awakened by a determined knock at my door. Behind it, a groggy-faced fresher in a plaid robe and round tortoiseshell eyeglasses tells me there’s a fellow on crutches waiting downstairs for me, who wants his jacket back.
SEAVIEW, RHODE ISLAND May 1938
Unlike me, Kiki was never afraid of strangers. Adult or child, tall or small, human or animal, everyone was her friend. While I stood frozen, just out of sight at the bottom of the stairs, my hand clutched around my gin glass, she replied to Nick Greenwald as if she had known him all her life.
“That’s a fine hat you’re wearing. What’s your name?” she asked pleasantly.
“My name is Nick Greenwald. And I think I know who you are.”
“Do you?” She was excited by this information.
“You must be Miss Catherine Dane of New York City. Am I right?”
His voice floated out from above me, exactly the same as I remembered, only a little deeper, more mellowed. I pivoted around the base of the veranda and sank into the sand, shaking at the familiarity of the sound.
Kiki gasped over my head. “How did you know that, Mr. Greenwald?”
“Well, look at those eyes of yours. I’d recognize them anywhere.” He paused. “Is your family here?”
“Lily’s right behind me. Lily?”
I sprang up and forced my feet to the steps. “Right here, darling. I was just picking up my glass and … Oh! Mr. Greenwald!”
Nick was crouching next to Kiki, addressing her eye-to-eye, and the expression on his face was so soft it stopped my breath. He straightened slowly to his full towering height. “Lily Dane,” he said. “How are you?”
Kiki was right about his hat. It looked new, the straw still stiff and bright, like he’d bought it last week at Brooks Brothers just for the purpose of a summer on the Seaview beach. Beneath the brim, his eyes were the same warm hazel as ever, and his face had lost all traces of boyishness. The bones sat prominently below his skin, austere as a monk’s, regular and uncompromising.
“I’m well, I’m well. How are you?”
“Never better. I …”
But before we could enlarge on this promising beginning, another familiar voice carried across the slow-moving air of the veranda.
“Why, Lily Dane! Look at you!”
Nick and I both turned, with simultaneous relief.
By now I was well prepared for the sight of Budgie Greenwald. I had seen her face in the newspapers, so I knew that she now kept her dark hair longer and her curls softer, according to fashion. I knew that her round eyes now had a sultry cast, though I didn’t know whether this was due to some natural effect of maturity or from some sort of cosmetic pose; I knew that she tinted her lips a deep wine red, which was even more startling in the full color of real life. I knew she would be dressed in the height of fashion, and her floating full-length chiffon gown, with its bare arms and relaxed Grecian neckline, did not disappoint.
But still I was shocked by her, more even than by Nick. Perhaps this was only natural. After all, I’d known Budgie all my life, from childhood to adolescence to adulthood, in all moods and settings: far more intricately than I had known Nick. This new phase of Budgie’s life was the first I hadn’t seen as it developed. Now here she stood before me, fully realized, every promise fulfilled, and I couldn’t stand the strangeness of it.
“I thought you might be here. I’ve been looking all over. Of course Nick was clever enough to find you for me, weren’t you, darling?” She slithered to his side in a rush of chiffon and looped one languorous arm through his. Her eyebrows raised expectantly.
I knew I had to speak, but I couldn’t think of a single word.
Kiki saved me. “You’re Budgie Byrne, aren’t you?” she said. “I’ve heard about you.”
Budgie looked down. “I beg your pardon, my dear.”
I couldn’t find my voice for myself, but I could find it for Kiki. “Budgie, how lovely to see you. Such a nice surprise. Kiki, this is Mrs. Greenwald.”
“Kiki. Of course.” Budgie held out her hand and spoke gravely. “How do you do?”
Kiki took her hand without hesitation. “I’m very well, thank you. I adore your dress.”
Budgie laughed. “Why, thank you. Now tell me, what have you heard about me? Something scandalous, I hope?”
“I’ve heard you grew up with my sister, before I was born.”
“Your sister.” Budgie’s sly eyes met mine. “I certainly did. I can tell you the most horrific stories about her, things you’d never believe.”
“Oh, like what?” Kiki asked eagerly.
“Oh, let me think.” Budgie tapped her pointed chin. “Well, for one thing, she used to swim naked in the ocean, in the morning, before everyone else was up.”
Kiki rolled her eyes. “Oh, I know that.”
“She still does, does she?” Budgie laughed again. “In the little cove near your house, right?”
“That’s the one.”
“Well, well. I’ll have to come over some morning, for old times’ sake. Even though dawn isn’t my style at all.” Budgie disengaged her arm from Nick and bent down. The motion made the neckline of her dress gape away from her skin, exposing the slim curves of her breasts. She was not, it seemed, wearing anything underneath. “Why, look at you! You’re the very image of Lily. Isn’t she, Nick?” She looked