She's Up to No Good(40)

“And if I don’t want to sit with a strange man while I write a personal letter?”

He opened a blue eye and squinted at her. “Ah, so it is a letter, then. Let me guess: Stole a friend’s fella?”

“Excuse me!”

He chuckled, closing the eye. “Okay, not that, then. Breaking up with your boyfriend back home?”

“Quite the opposite.”

“Why so hard to write, then?”

“I—why . . . That’s none of your business!”

Fred sat up. “Ouch, what did you do?”

“Good grief, are you always this impertinent?”

“Possibly. My mother always said I asked too many questions.” He shrugged. “Here’s another: What’s your name?”

“Evelyn,” she grumbled.

“Well, Evelyn, you can tell me. I’m perfectly safe. I’m engaged, after all.”

She looked at him sideways. “You are?” He nodded. “Then what are you doing talking to strange girls in the park?”

“Are you strange?”

“To you I am.”

“Fair enough. I normally wouldn’t, but you seemed to be having such a difficult time, and as a gentleman, I decided to offer a friendly hand.”

“By sitting here until you annoyed me into talking to you?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes and put the textbook on the grass, another book on top of the paper to keep it from blowing away. Her hat pin was stuck through the top of her bag, easily accessible if he turned out not to consider his engagement an obstacle. “I’m engaged too.” She saw him glance at her hand, and she looked at him defiantly. “We haven’t gotten a ring yet, but we don’t need one for it to be real.”

“Parents don’t approve?”

This was too much. She started to stand, but he waved her back down. “Stay. I’m just being nosy.”

With a sigh, she resettled herself. “No. He’s not Jewish.”

“I got lucky there. Betty is.”

Good for you and Betty, Evelyn though unkindly. Then she rearranged her face. It wasn’t this man’s fault Tony was who he was. It also wasn’t his fault she was in a sour mood. She had made her own bed there.

“That’s not why the letter is hard.” He nodded at her encouragingly. “I went on a date as a favor to my roommate, and I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“And he did?”

“Apparently.”

“Do you think it was now?”

“It wasn’t. But I guess I see why he’s upset.”

“So tell him that. He’ll get over it. And if he doesn’t, is that really who you want to be engaged to?”

Evelyn looked at him carefully to see if he was being flippant or making a pass, but he seemed genuine. “I suppose you’re right.”

Fred lay back down in the grass. “So which school are you at?”

“Simmons. You?”

“Harvard.”

“And it took this long to bring that up in conversation?”

Fred let out a hearty laugh. “I could tell I liked you. I admire a girl who speaks her mind.”

“Well, don’t like me too much. Betty definitely wouldn’t approve.”

“No, she probably wouldn’t. But we’re both engaged and away from home, and as I see it, there’s no harm in having a—strictly platonic, of course—friend.”

“Oh, we’re friends now?”

He opened the one eye again. “I’d warrant I now know more about that fella of yours than your parents do. So yes. I think we are.”

Evelyn smiled, despite herself. “Touché.”

He sat up and then stood and dusted off his pants. “Well, friend, I’ll let you finish your letter. What do you say to grabbing a cup of coffee one day?”

“I say I’m already in enough trouble and don’t need more.”

“Hah. I don’t need any either. Suppose I’ll see you around, then.”

“I suppose so. Goodbye, Fred.”

He tipped an imaginary hat at her. “Evelyn.” And he walked away. She wasn’t watching when he turned to glance back at her.





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT





My grandmother’s face lit up when I showed her the photograph. “Wherever did you get this?” I told her the story of finding it in Lina’s shop. “Well, that explains a lot. Lipe must have been in love with me first.”

I rolled my eyes. “How did you get that from a picture?”

“You don’t take—or keep—a picture like that of someone you don’t like. It explains why he didn’t seem to want me and Tony to be together.”

Or he figured out you weren’t going to be able to stay together, I thought. “What happened to him?”

“It was a terrible tragedy. There was a fire on a cargo ship, and twenty or so men went out to try to rescue the crew. Lipe and three others didn’t come back. Joe’s mother was only two.” She shook her head. “What else did you do with Joe today?”

I told her about the fried clams, and my grandmother closed her eyes, savoring the taste of the memory. “Brewster’s alone is worth the trip.”