I said that she was a good writer but she shrugged off the compliment. “I send over a few pages or call the editor and read what I’ve got over the phone. But I’m always late and he’s always mad. I’ve often thought what I need is an assistant to help with actually getting the things on paper and seeing they’re in on time. It’s all I can do to remember who was at which party—especially after a highball or two.”
I said I took dictation and typed.
“Do you?” She looked me over and said what wouldn’t she give for some of my curves. I would have given anything to be able to wear her dress, which fell in a straight line from her shoulders to her knees.
“You’d have to be at the house a lot,” she said. “If we were in New York, I could tell people you were my social secretary, but that’s not done in Boston. And I can’t say you’re a friend because everyone knows all my friends.”
I said, “Couldn’t we have met at Barnard?” Something else I knew about her from her wedding announcement.
She said, “You have the memory of an elephant. But since they all went to Smith or Wellesley, I suppose I could introduce you as a college chum.”
The photographer was putting his cameras in the car and waved for her to get in. I gave her my telephone number at work. She shook my hand and said she’d call me in September.
I watched them drive away and started planning the rest of my life: I wouldn’t have to be Levine’s secretary forever, but I would have to learn all about Barnard College and New York City if I was going to pretend to be her “college chum.” What would I call her: Mrs. Thorndike or Tessa? I could imagine how proud Miss Chevalier would be to see by Addie Baum in the paper.
I couldn’t wait.
My jaw hurt from keeping quiet.
Instead of dreading going back to work for my brother-in-law, I couldn’t wait to get to the office in case Tessa called. By then I was calling her Tessa in my head. I went in early and left late so I wouldn’t miss her. I even decided not to sign up for night school so I’d be free—night or day—to do whatever she needed. The minute I heard from her, I was going to quit my job and start a whole new life.
After a month without a word from her, I was going crazy. Maybe she’d forgotten me or maybe she’d decided it was crazy to hire a complete stranger or maybe someone told her that I was the maid.
I read the newspapers like a maniac, right down to the box scores and the classifieds, thinking that eventually I’d find something about Mrs. Thorndike. I knew she liked having her name in the columns. Finally I saw an item in the Herald about how the Charles Thorndikes were enjoying their stay in London, where Mr. Thorndike was doing business. After that, they were planning to spend a few weeks in Paris before returning to their Back Bay home.
That explained why I hadn’t heard from her. Either she had forgotten me or had forgotten that she was going on a trip to Europe when we talked. I wondered if there was still a chance that she’d call when she got back. I felt like a fly stuck on a piece of flypaper and wasted a lot of time feeling sorry for myself. Irene started talking about dosing me with Lydia Pinkham’s again and Betty said no sourpusses at her party.
In December, Betty gave herself a birthday party. Mameh thought making a fuss about birthdays wasn’t just a waste of money, it was like waving a flag at the Angel of Death.
It wasn’t a big party: just the family, a cake with candles, and a bottle of homemade schnapps. Betty had bought herself a new outfit, which was an occasion in itself. She hadn’t gotten anything new since the twins were born because she’d been trying to lose the baby weight. Betty had never been skinny and she was never really fat. She still had a nice shape, but it was well upholstered now and her new dress made the best of it.
But the real reason Betty wanted us all together was to make an announcement. “You’ll never guess what Herman got me for my birthday,” she said. “A house!”
She could hardly get the words out fast enough to tell us about how many bedrooms there were and how many trees in the backyard. Herman was buying bicycles for the boys and a washing machine for her. Levine gave her a kiss on the cheek and said the house was too good a deal to pass up.
My parents were stunned.
Betty laughed. “Look at them! Don’t worry. You’re coming with us. Mameh can grow cabbages and Papa won’t have to work anymore. No rent to pay. It’s a two-family. We have the top two floors, and you’ll be downstairs. Just like here.”
Levine said there was a grocery store around the corner, and a kosher butcher.
“They have Jews there?” Mameh asked.
“In Roxbury?” he said. “Are you kidding?”
Betty said Mrs. Kampinsky from the old apartment building was living there already with her son and daughter-in-law. “Sh
e said to tell you hello and to visit as soon as you can.”
Papa’s face was like a mask. “You talk like it’s all settled. Like I’m too old and sick to work. Like I am not still the head of my own house.”
“Of course you are,” Levine said. “If you want to keep working, I understand. There’s even a trolley near us.”
Betty started talking about how much quieter it was in Roxbury and how there were better schools for the boys. Levine said the neighborhood was coming up. My mother asked if there was a fish store close enough to walk to.
And then, boom, Papa slammed his fist on the table. “We are not going anywhere.”
It was like the clock stopped. My father never did things like that. Even Betty was speechless.