Florence Adler Swims Forever(71)
Isaac drained the glass, put it down on the table, and hurried to catch up with the pair. Why hadn’t he thought about Stuart before? The ne’er-do-well son of one of Atlantic City’s richest hoteliers would be the perfect investor. All the money in the world and no practical experience doing anything besides sitting on a beach. Stuart was holding a door for Anna when Isaac called to them both from the far side of the lobby.
Anna stopped, turned. Stuart studied the lobby’s expanse, looking for the source of the sound. When they saw that it was him, Anna looked discomfited but Stuart seemed relieved.
“Isaac, good to see you,” said Stuart, extending his hand. Isaac shook it, then ushered them both through the door and out into the night air of the Boardwalk.
“Been swimming?” Isaac asked Anna, with a nod toward her wet head. What he really wondered was whether they’d just come from a hotel room.
Anna didn’t answer him, so Stuart did. “I’ve been teaching her the basics.” He grinned at her, then added, “She’s a quick study.”
“That’s great,” said Isaac, trying hard to come off sounding like an affectionate older brother, a difficult feat considering he had barely spoken to Anna in the four months she’d been living with his in-laws. When Isaac went over for dinner, Esther was always there, ready and able to carry the conversation.
“And you?” Anna asked.
“Met someone here for a drink.”
Anna and Stuart offered empty acknowledgments, then looked at each other.
It was at least a fifteen-block walk back to the Adlers’ apartment, and Isaac’s apartment was four blocks past that. If Isaac accompanied them, he’d ruin everyone’s evening—that much was clear. He needed to get Stuart alone, but not here. If only Isaac had been a little kinder to him all along. It wouldn’t be so awkward now.
“You still rowing in the mornings?” Isaac asked Stuart.
“I try to.”
“I’d love to come out with you one of these days. See Atlantic City from a new perspective.” Isaac didn’t see how the view could be much different from what he saw from the end of Steel Pier, but he hoped the excuse sounded plausible. Anna didn’t look as though she bought Isaac’s enthusiasm but Stuart was more generous. If he was suspicious of Isaac’s motives, he didn’t let on.
“Anytime. You never know—I might turn you into a rower.”
“You going out tomorrow?” Isaac asked.
Even Stuart looked baffled now. “Sure am.”
“Maybe I’ll come.”
“I’ll be out on the beach at six.” Stuart gestured toward the stretch of sand directly in front of The Covington. “Right over there.”
Isaac raised his fingers to his forehead in a mock salute. “Aye aye, Captain.” Then he looked up and down the Boardwalk, desperate for an excuse to take his leave. “I’d love to walk back with you both but I promised Fannie I’d pick her up some macaroons from Segal’s.”
Anna and Stuart weren’t even capable of feigning disappointment. “Of course,” both of them said at the same time. As everyone said their good-byes, Isaac studied Stuart carefully. The trick to being a good salesman was being able to correctly identify people’s desires. If Isaac was to have any hope of selling Stuart on Florida, he had to figure out what Stuart cared about. He didn’t know much about him, but there was something about the way Stuart looked at Anna, as they turned to go, that gave Isaac a decent place to start.
* * *
Isaac had had two drinks—downed in quick succession—when he suggested tagging along on Stuart’s predawn row. Now, in the sober light of the early morning, he wondered why he had thought the excursion seemed like such a good idea.
He waved at Stuart as he neared the rescue boat, and once he was within shouting distance, called out a buoyant “Ahoy!” It was important, he thought, to convey as much joviality as the early morning hour allowed.
Stuart put two sets of oars and a rescue can into the boat. “Do you prefer the bow or the stern?”
Isaac hadn’t considered the fact that Stuart might expect him to row. Once or twice, last summer, he’d seen Stuart and Florence taking the boat out, and Florence had always sat motionless at the front. Was that the bow? Growing up forty miles inland, Isaac had never needed to learn the parts of a boat. “I don’t have a preference,” he said to Stuart.
“Let’s get her out in the water and then you can take the bow.” Stuart tapped the front of the boat.
Getting the boat in the water was no easy feat. It looked simple enough when the lifeguards pushed it off its wooden rollers and into the ocean but, in actual fact, the boat was a heavy beast. “You take this thing out on your own? I’m impressed.”
“I do, but when you’re by yourself, there’s no room for error.”
The same was true for swimming, Isaac supposed. Look at poor Florence. Isaac didn’t like to think about Florence much, had tried, in the six weeks since her death, to push her from his thoughts. She had driven Fannie mad at times, but he’d always thought her perfectly fine. A little brash. And maybe too excitable. But she was a good daughter and a doting aunt. He realized, now that she was gone, that she’d also acted as a useful buffer, drawing some of Joseph and Esther’s attention away from Isaac’s own small family.