The Boston Girl(42)

Tessa Thorndike didn’t seem all that interested. She didn’t talk to any of the girls or write down a word of what Miss Lettis told her about the history of Rockport Lodge or what happened there. Instead of eating lunch in the dining room with everyone else, she had her lunch on a tray in the parlor, by herself.

The lodge emptied out in the afternoon for a sailboat ride out of Rockport Harbor. Miss Lettis took the photographer to take pictures of the grounds and the house and Mrs. Thorndike went back to the porch to smoke.

I wandered out there with a book under my arm.

“No sailing?” she said.

I said I got seasick and asked if she was having a good time.

She sighed. “Not really. I’m on a tight leash; no funny business allowed.” She sounded discouraged and less snooty. “The only reason I’m here is that Charles’s mother gives money to this place and told the publisher she wanted something nice. If I were to be even a little bit clever, she would not be pleased.”

I asked if her mother-in-law suspected that she was Serena.

“Mother Thorndike would make her son divorce me. She finds Serena vulgar, but Charlie thinks she’s funny.”

“He’s right,” I said.

“Why, thank you,” she said and asked my name.

She said, “Addie Baum. That would make a good byline.”

And just like that, I could see it in my head, by Addie Baum, in black-and-white. That’s what I wanted to do with myself: I would write for the newspapers.

I had goose bumps, but I pulled myself together and said, “I don’t think I could remember things as well as you do.”

“You mean because I don’t take things down? That’s only because I’m lazy and nobody really cares what I write as long as I get the names straight, and they have someone else check to make sure that I do.”

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.