The Calculating Stars (Lady Astronaut, #1)(49)

“December 15th. Doris says to tell you that we’ve got the guest room all set for you.”

“That’s wonderful—” One of the envelopes was yellow. On the outside, in bright red ink, a stamp read OVERDUE. “Um … Hershel. May I call you back? Tell Tommy that we’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it.”

As we said our goodbyes and hung up, I wasn’t really listening. I’d torn open the envelope and had slid out the overdue bill inside. My stomach twisted as if I were about to address a crowd of thousands, but this time it was only an audience of one. I’d been so busy with the air show and interviews and television that I’d gotten behind on the bills.

“I … I forgot to pay the electric bill.”

The silence remained after my words vanished. Candlelight flickered on the table and I finally saw the rose standing in a vase on the table. At current prices, it was as if he’d bought me a dozen.

“Nathaniel … I’m so, so sorry.”

He left the fuse box hanging open. “Hey, you’ve had a lot on your mind. It’s all right.”

The stack of mail on the table all but glared at me. I had barely been cleaning the apartment, and now this. “I’ll go through the accounts tomorrow. Make sure I didn’t miss any others.”

“It’s all right.” He blew out his candle and walked around the table to me. “I’m just happy to have you home.”

Then he blew out my candle. I think he meant it to be romantic, but it left us standing in a darkness of my making.





SEVENTEEN

INSULATING CONCERN HEATS HOUSE FOR $12 A MONTH IN A 2-YEAR TEST





KANSAS CITY, KS, July 14, 1956—In cooperation with the UN’s Climate Committee, the Owens-Corning Fiberglass Corporation undertook a two-year test program involving 150 new houses in all climatic regions of the United States, Europe, and parts of Africa. The test homes were “comfort-engineered” and required trees and trellises for shade, a wide roof overhang or heat-repellent screening, and attic ventilation.


Before we got home from the synagogue, I needed to take my coat off. It felt like it must be in the mid-seventies. On the one hand, thank God it was finally warming up. On the other … I knew what the warming meant. We were hitting the beginning of the greenhouse effect.

I stood, my coat over my arm, as Nathaniel crouched to open our mailbox. He tipped his hat back on his head. “Huh. I wonder what this is…”

Inside the box, a large padded envelope nearly filled the entire space. He wrestled it free, and the thing seemed to expand as it came out of the box. The last edge came loose suddenly, and Nathaniel lost his balance and fell back on his rump.

“You okay?” I bent to retrieve a couple of other envelopes that had dropped on the floor.

“Fine, fine…” He reseated his hat and clambered to his feet, staring at the envelope. “It’s for you.”

I stopped in the process of slipping the other envelopes into my purse. “Me?”

“From NBC.” He tucked it under one arm and bent down to shut our mailbox. “Betcha someone got fan mail.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s probably just a thank-you gift or some such thing.” We started up the stairs, but my heart was pounding before we even reached the first landing. I wanted to believe that no one had watched the show.

And yet, when we got to the apartment and settled in, the giant envelope taking up most of the kitchen table, I circled around it as if it were a cobra or something equally deadly. Nathaniel sat down at the table and pulled out the rocket booster design he’d been working on when I’d talked him into leaving the office yesterday.

“That looks suspiciously like work…” I opened the refrigerator and rummaged through it, trying to figure out what we’d have for lunch.

“And you look like you’re about to start cooking.” He looked up at me and winked. “You knew I was a terrible Jew when you married me.”

“I just made a comment.”

“Mm-hm … and you don’t get to use Shabbat as a weapon if you’re going to ignore it too.”

“Fine.” I shut the refrigerator door. For me, the observation was as much about discipline and reminding myself of who I was as anything else. It had seemed important after the Holocaust, and then again after the Meteor, because Grandma would have …

Grief pops up at the strangest times. “I’ll cook after sundown, which isn’t until nine tonight, if you’ll take an actual day off.”

“Wait … let me see if I understand this. You’re trying to convince me to not work by offering to not feed me?” Nathaniel tapped his pencil against his chin. “Hm … there’s something not quite right here.”

“Oh, I’ll feed you. Cold cuts and guilt.” I laughed and pulled the envelope toward me. Best to get it over with. Sitting down opposite him, I patted the giant envelope proprietarily. “Besides, I have to see what’s in this.”

He laughed and stood, giving me a kiss on the back of my neck. “I’ll make sandwiches, and if I’m right and it’s fan mail, then…”

“Then what?”

“You’ll have to think of some way to reward me for being right.”