The Two-Family House(63)
“Where is everybody?” Johnny asked.
Helen poured him a glass of milk and sat down with him. “Let’s see. Well, you know your uncle Abe is out of town. Harry went with him—it’s the first time he’s ever been to Philadelphia. And the other boys are over at the baseball field. They have a doubleheader today.”
“Where’s Natalie?”
“Getting ready. She’ll be down in a little bit.”
Johnny looked concerned. “Is she still really sad? Do you think she’ll like the show?”
“Don’t worry, she’ll love it.”
“Can I go upstairs and tell her I’m here?”
“Sure, honey—go ahead.”
*
By the time they got to Penn Station, there wasn’t enough time to get lunch, so Helen bought the kids soft pretzels from one of the carts. “Extra salt, please,” Natalie piped up, and Johnny said he liked his pretzels the same way. They were all in great spirits until a tall man in a gray overcoat bumped into Natalie on the way to the theater. Natalie ended up on the ground, and so did the pretzel. Johnny helped her up and Helen brushed her off, but the pretzel was unsalvageable. Since there was no time to buy another, Johnny handed Natalie his. “Here,” he told her, “take mine.”
Helen wanted to cry. It was just what Teddy would have done, and Helen could tell from the look on Natalie’s face that she was thinking the very same thing. Natalie stared at Johnny for a moment, then grinned from ear to ear. She broke the pretzel into two equal pieces and gave one of the pieces back to him. “I’m not that hungry,” she told Johnny. “We can share it.”
Chapter 47
JUDITH
Her father wanted to have lunch with her. Alone. The closest Judith had ever come to eating a meal alone with her father had been when her mother was pregnant with Mimi. Rose had been eight months along and exhausted. She had suggested that Mort take Judith for a walk and get her an ice cream cone. “Just remember,” Mort had warned, “I’m not buying you another one if you drop it. Understand?” He had said it over and over, so that Judith couldn’t even enjoy the cone because of his pestering. The ice cream had melted all over her hand, and he hadn’t even thought to give her a napkin!
Claire, Judith’s friend from class, couldn’t believe it either. She had only met Mort a few times, but Judith had filled her in.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Claire offered.
“If I bring you along, it will look like I don’t want to be alone with him.”
“You don’t.”
“I know. But I don’t want to make it so obvious.”
“Take him to the coffee shop on Amsterdam,” Claire advised. “It’ll be crowded, but the service is so fast you won’t have to linger. They have good sandwiches too. Or did you want something more elegant?”
“No, definitely not. The coffee shop will be quick, at least.” Judith was picking at one of her nails and frowning.
“Don’t get yourself all worked up, Judith. Maybe he’ll surprise you.”
“He’s not really one for surprises.”
Mort had a morning meeting with Abe on 134th Street, so he and Judith had agreed to meet at the stone archway at Amsterdam and 138th Street. “It’s called the Hudson Gate,” Judith told her father, “in case you need to ask someone where it is.”
“I’ll find it,” he assured her.
*
Judith’s morning classes were over too quickly, and before she knew it, it was time to meet her father. He was waiting for her, just where he said he’d be, underneath the elaborate stone archway on 138th Street. He was standing on the Amsterdam Avenue side, looking in toward the campus. Judith spotted him first and for a moment thought about turning in the other direction. But he looked so harmless standing there, with his brown felt hat and his worn leather briefcase, that she couldn’t find the strength to walk away.
“Hi,” Judith said to him. She had never called him “Daddy.” “Father” sounded strange. It was easiest not to address him at all. She was relieved that he made no move to embrace her.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Claire told me about a place a few blocks up from here—is a coffee shop all right?”
“Fine.”
“Up this way then.” Judith pointed to the right and the two of them walked together. She couldn’t think of anything to say, but her father didn’t seem to mind. She couldn’t remember the last time she had walked somewhere alongside him.
After a few blocks they saw the coffee shop across the street. It was crowded, but the waitress sat them at the last available booth near the soda fountain. A few of the young women at the counter waved to Judith—she recognized them from her Romantic poetry class.
When the waitress asked if they knew what they wanted, Judith answered quickly that she did. She didn’t want lunch to last any longer than it had to. “I’d like a cup of tea, please, with lemon. And a grilled cheese sandwich.”
Judith looked over at her father. He hadn’t opened the menu either. “Chicken salad on rye,” he told the waitress. “And a cup of black coffee.” He handed the menu back and straightened his tie. After the waitress left, he pulled his old briefcase onto the seat of the booth and squeezed open the latch. Then he pulled out an envelope and handed it to her.