“You can do better. Go to New York. Don’t waste all that talent.”
When Miri said, “I’m just going home for the summer,” Leah didn’t buy it.
“There’s a boy, isn’t there? The one you met over the holidays.”
Well, yes, there was someone she’d met over the holidays, a dental intern working for Dr. O. But so what? Half the girls in her graduating class were already engaged, showing off their diamond rings every chance they got.
“What’s his name?” Leah said.
“Andy. He’s from San Francisco. Went to Stanford.” She hoped Leah would be impressed.
“Andy.”
“Yes.”
“You’re just twenty-two, Miri.”
She knew how old she was.
“Give yourself a chance.”
“I’m not getting married.”
“You will.”
“Someday.”
“Just don’t settle.”
“I won’t settle.”
She didn’t give a hoot about a diamond ring, and the idea of one had probably never entered Andy’s mind. When they became engaged a year later, he gave her new skis and a black pearl to wear around her neck on a chain. She still wears it, is wearing it now. He was a young dentist then and insisted on checking her teeth, like a horse dealer buying a mare. “Nice,” he’d said, once he had her in the chair. “Healthy gums.” Before she’d even closed her mouth he’d asked, “Will you marry me?”
“This is a proposal?” she’d said.
He’d nodded, embarrassed, and brought out a bottle of Champagne he’d hidden in the cabinet. He filled two pleated paper cups and passed one to her.
“I must be the first person ever to be proposed to in a dental chair.”
“Is that a yes?” he said.
She gulped down the Champagne, held out her cup for more. “Yes!”
Her family was happy. Marrying Andy would mean she’d stay in Las Vegas. Henry was always supportive. If she was happy, he was happy for her. They didn’t marry for another year. When they did, Ben Sapphire gave them a bungalow.
—
THE MAYOR CALLS Miri’s name. She still goes by Ammerman. If she’d taken Andy’s name, Zinn, she’d be at the end of the program. She thinks about walking out the door and not coming back. But Henry comes to her side, takes her arm, walks her up to the podium, the way he walked her down the aisle on her wedding day, sharing her with Dr. O, who was on her other side. Two of the best fathers any girl could have.
She hadn’t invited Mike Monsky to her wedding. They’d found out pretty quickly there wasn’t going to be much between them. The first summer he’d picked her up in Las Vegas and driven her back to Los Altos, where she never even met Adela, who’d had such a severe migraine she’d moved into her parents’ house for the duration of Miri’s visit. And that visit was cut short when Mike’s kids came down with chicken pox. The following year it was worse. Adela greeted her, then left with the boys to spend a week with her parents in Santa Barbara. By then she’d had it. If Mike Monsky wanted to see her, he could come to Las Vegas, or take her someplace neutral. But it never worked out. She wasn’t disappointed. She had a lot of people in her life. He was just a complication.
Frekki stopped by once, with Dr. J. J. Strasser, when Miri was a senior at Las Vegas High. They were on their way to a medical convention in L.A. She’d invited Miri to lunch at the Sands. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Frekki said.
“I’m fine,” Miri told her. “I got into American University, my first-choice college.”
“Well, good for you,” Frekki said. “I hear you’ve seen your fa…” She hesitated before saying the word, then changed it to “Mike.”
“Yes. Twice. But we’re both so busy, there’s not a lot of time to visit.”
“I understand,” Frekki said. “I’m meeting him for lunch in L.A. He’s flying down for the day, without Adela or the boys.” She sighed deeply.
Miri nodded.
“I hear he’s changed his name to Monk.”
“Yes.” Was she just finding out?
“Well, I can’t say I blame him. Monsky was always a mouthful.”
Miri took a bite of grilled chicken and chewed it very slowly.
When she’d announced her marriage to Andy, Frekki sent a crystal bowl from Tiffany’s.
Mike Monk sent a $100 check.
—
AT THE PODIUM Miri takes the leather-covered journal from her purse, opens to the first page and signals to Henry, she’s okay. She begins to read into the microphone, glancing over in Mason’s direction just once. His head is bowed.
After enough time it fades and you’re grateful.
Not that it’s ever completely gone.
It’s still there, buried deep, a part of you.
The stench is gone from your nostrils now
Unless someone leaves the kettle on to boil and forgets about it.
The nightmares have tapered out.
There are more pressing things to dream about, to worry over,
to keep you awake at night.
Aging parents, adolescent children, work, money,
the state of the world.
Life goes on, as our parents promised that winter.
Life goes on if you’re one of the lucky ones.
But we’re still part of a secret club,
One we’d never willingly join,
With members who have nothing in common
except a time and a place.
We’ll always be connected by that winter.
Anyone who tells you different is lying.
The final speaker is Gaby Wenders. She introduces the boy heroes, especially her hero, Mason McKittrick. Then her husband, Dr. Larsen, her children and grandchildren present a plaque to Mason. The oldest grandchild, maybe five, says to Mason, Thank you for our Gaby. There’s not a dry eye in the house.
After the presentation to Mason it feels as if the program is over. People stand and begin to say goodbye to one another, when the doors swing open and Natalie makes her entrance, swooping in like a high-fashion gypsy, the “Queen of New Age,” as she’s known, her Santa Fe jewelry jangling on her wrists and around her neck. A buzz goes through the crowd and people take their seats again. After all, she’s Natalie Renso. She’s famous. You can see her on TV, at readings and book signings, in fashion magazines. Most people don’t know Renso is Osner spelled backward, the kind of code name children come up with in third grade. But it’s worked well for Natalie. She steps up to the podium, waits for the whispering to die down and begins.
“It was the winter that changed our lives,” she says. “The winter we learned who we were, and what we were made of.” And that’s it. She doesn’t say a word about Ruby. Just that she’ll be happy to sign books—please write the name of the person you’d like her to sign for on a Post-it.
Even Lee Patterson, daughter of the Secretary of War, lines up to get her signature. “My daughter would never forgive me if I didn’t bring her a signed book.”
Miri does not get in line. She hangs back.
“Did you really sleep with Warren Beatty?” someone asks Natalie.
“Why not?” Natalie answers. “Everyone who had the chance did.” She laughs, and the crowd laughs with her.
—
CHRISTINA DOESN’T LIKE whatever’s going on between Miri and Mason. You’d have to be an idiot to miss it. The two of them making goo-goo eyes at each other all through lunch. Jack tells her to let it be, they’re adults, they’re not going to do anything stupid, anything that would mess up their lives. Instead, she tries to convince Miri to fly home with her and Jack today. The plane is waiting at Teterboro. But Miri says she’s staying another night.
“Fine,” Christina says. “I’ll stay and fly back commercial with you tomorrow.”
Miri looks at her. “No.”
“No? What do you mean, no?”
“I mean that’s crazy. Fly back with Jack and I’ll see you day after tomorrow. I still need to talk to Natalie, away from her adoring fans, and I want to stop by the cemetery on the way to the airport tomorrow.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she tells Miri.
“Never,” Miri tells her.
“Is that a promise?”
Miri hugs her. “Don’t worry.”
But that’s a phrase that’s always worried her, even coming from Miri, her dearest friend.
—
CHRISTINA IS RETRIEVING her coat from the cloakroom when an attractive silver-haired man says, “Hello.”
“Hello,” she answers.
“I went to school with your sister…”
He doesn’t have to finish. It’s the Sewing Machine Man’s son, Zak Galanos. He seems nice enough, still teaching, though not in Elizabeth. His wife is an elementary school principal. They have two children. This was the life her mother wanted for her. A decent Greek husband, a couple of kids, a house in Cranford or Westfield. She never dreamed her life would turn out so different. A life of such wealth it embarrasses her. It’s laughable how her family’s attitude toward her changed as her fortunes grew. She’s heard her nephews refer to her as their rich aunt Christina from Vegas—and sure, she helped put them through college, helped Athena open a new store at the Short Hills mall. She made sure her parents were comfortable at their retirement home, and when it was needed, she paid for round-the-clock care.