Florence Adler Swims Forever(35)

“Maybe both?”

“You were the subject of several letters home.”

“I can’t imagine what Florence must have thought,” she said. “A strange girl arrives out of nowhere. She’s not even a distant cousin, and suddenly she’s living in her old bedroom.”

“No one was complaining,” he said, wishing he could catch her eye. He got the impression that she considered herself to be a nuisance.

At Virginia Avenue, the family passed the hospital tent but no one acknowledged it.

“So, you can neither confirm nor deny Florence’s hunch?”

Anna smiled. “If I tell you something, you have to promise not to breathe a word.”

He held up three fingers.

“They were engaged.”

Stuart couldn’t hide his surprise, didn’t try. “Mr. Adler and your mother?”

Anna nodded her head. “My suspicion is that he broke it off when he met Esther.”

“Fascinating.”

“I know.”

“Do you think he still loves her?”

“Who? My mother?”

“Sure.”

“I would assume not,” Anna said, as if she’d never considered the question, much less its answer. “Not that it really matters.”

“Of course it matters.”

Anna raised her eyebrows in amusement. She started to say something, and then stopped herself, pressed her lips together.

“What were you going to say?” Stuart asked.

“Nothing.”

“Something.”

“It’s just that,” said Anna, “sometimes, when he looks at me, I get the feeling he’s rearranging my features, trying to recall my mother’s face.”

Stuart had nothing smart to say to that. He thought of the grainy photograph of Florence that had run in the Press, after she swam around the island last summer. It had captured her perfectly but he liked to think that, even in thirty years’ time, he wouldn’t need it to aid his recollection.

The procession came to a halt in front of the James Candy Company. A woman, whom Stuart didn’t recognize, stopped Esther, and as he and Anna neared, he could hear her asking after the family.

“And how’s your daughter?”

Esther’s face crumpled.

“Still resting comfortably?”

“Oh, Fannie. Yes, still in the hospital. I think she’s probably a little bored but so far, so good.

“Wonderful. And Florence? Still swimming every chance she gets?”

Stuart watched Esther visibly swallow.

Isaac, who hadn’t even looked as if he were paying attention to the conversation, responded for her. “We couldn’t get her out of the water if we tried.”

Gussie looked confused and turned to her father, “Dad, but she can’t—”

Before Gussie could get anything else out, Anna reached forward, grabbed her hand, gave the group an apologetic smile, and guided her inside the candy store. Stuart waited a few seconds to excuse himself, then followed them inside, where he found Anna and Gussie among several large bins of saltwater taffy. Anna was at eye level with Gussie, smoothing her hair as she spoke to the child in soft, soothing tones. Stuart had to get close before he could hear what she was saying.

“… important not to tell.”

Gussie looked like she was on the verge of tears. “But I thought we were just keeping the secret from Mother.” Her lip started to quiver. “Because, because, because of the baby.”

“Shhhh,” whispered Anna. “It’s confusing, I know.”

Stuart approached the pair and crouched low. “I think your grandparents are worried that, if lots of people know Florence has died, someone will tell your mother. It makes it easier to keep the secret if only a small number of people know.”

“We’re like a special club,” said Anna. “Have you ever been in a club?”

“Like a secret club?” Gussie asked.

“Yes, the most secret kind of club. The kind with handshakes and passwords and secret languages,” said Anna.

“Some of the girls at school are in a secret club.”

“Not you?” Anna asked.

She shook her head sadly. “In their club, they speak Pig Latin.”

“But that’s barely secret at all!” Stuart said, allowing a look of horror to fall over his face. “Everyone knows Pig Latin!”

“Our club is top secret,” said Anna.

“And I’m a member?” Gussie asked.

“All of us are members,” said Stuart, looking at Anna. “Everyone who knows what happened to Florence.”

“Do we have a secret handshake?” asked Gussie.

“?‘Do we have a secret handshake?’ Anna, can you even believe what this girl is asking? ‘Do we have a secret handshake?’ We’ve got a secret handshake and a secret language!”

He grabbed Gussie’s small wrist and squeezed it twice before curling her pinkie into her palm and tugging at her thumb. “Is that secret enough for you?” he asked, grinning at her.

“And our secret language?”

“Anna, should we tell her the secret language? Do you think she’s ready for something so top secret?”