Chapter Thirty-Four

THIRTY-FOUR

FEbrUARY 1925

The day before Bess and George’s wedding, Augusta decided to bob her hair. Smooth chin-length walnut waves framed her heart-shaped face. The haircut had been slightly impetuous, but when Irving first saw her from across the sanctuary, she knew from his smile that she had made the right decision.

She wanted to spend more time with him at the reception, but there were out-of-town cousins and family friends to attend to. For the rest of the afternoon, she had to satisfy herself with distant smiles and admiring glances.

The newspaper forecast called for sunshine, but by the time all the guests were gathered, the February air smelled like snow. After the toasts were made and the cake was eaten, the flakes began coming down in earnest. Wind rattled the thick glass synagogue windows as guests began scrambling to depart.

George had hired a taxi to drive him and his bride the one mile east to their new apartment. After their goodbyes to relatives and friends, Augusta’s father escorted Esther home. Only Irving and Augusta lingered to tidy up the reception room and move the gifts to the rabbi’s study until the newlyweds returned to claim them.

By the time they tugged open the heavy doors of the drafty stone building, there were at least six inches of snow on the ground. The freezing wind quickened and howled, stirring the snow like a broom raises dust. Irving pulled Augusta back inside.

“I can’t let you go out in that,” he said. “You’re going to get blown away.”

“It’s only six blocks,” said Augusta. “If I don’t go home, my father will worry.”

But when they opened the doors a second time, instead of rushing into the snow, Augusta stared down at her feet—at the new satin shoes that Harriet Dornbush had given her for the wedding—and wondered whether a walk through the snow would ruin them beyond repair.

“I’ll carry you,” Irving told her, sensing her hesitation.

“Absolutely not! There’s no way you can carry me that far!”

Irving flashed her a confident smile. “I’m a lot stronger than you think,” he said. “Come on—at least let me try.”

She clung to his back for the next twenty minutes while he stumbled blindly through the swirling snow. Even in the bitter air, Augusta could feel the heat of his fingers traveling through her stockings and up her legs. When she tightened her grip and said, “Don’t drop me!” he promised her he wouldn’t let go.

Finally they reached the door of her building, where he carried her inside and lowered her gently onto the marble floor. She felt a palpable ache when he released her—a shiver of sadness when she realized that their journey had come to an end.

“Thank you,” she said. “That was more fun than it should have been.”

“Anytime,” Irving answered, his gaze fixed on hers.

He brushed the powdery layer of snow from her shoulders, her back, and her hair. When she reached out to do the same for him, he wrapped his arms around her waist. As she pressed her frozen lips to his, there was a sense that everything had changed between the two of them. Together, they had kept each other warm. Together, they had turned something dark into light.

The next few months were filled with stolen kisses—between the shelves of the local library when no one else was around to see, and in the stillness of the prescription room when her father was taking care of customers. These were the places she was most at ease. These were the places, Irving told her, where her beauty most overwhelmed him.

“What do you mean?” Augusta said. “I’m not looking for a compliment, Irving, I’m just trying to understand.” They were in her father’s prescription room then, surrounded by shelves of bottles and vials. She gestured toward the locked cabinet of poisons. “This isn’t exactly a romantic place.”

“Maybe not for other people,” said Irving. “But whenever you’re here or at the library, I can feel your brain at work. And when your brain is churning away, I swear it makes your whole face light up. There’s nothing more beautiful than that.”

Augusta laughed. “You think my brain is beautiful? ”

Irving refused to be embarrassed. “I think you’re happiest when you’re using it—when you’re doing your homework or studying your formulas or learning whatever is in your books. That’s when you’re the most yourself. And that’s when you’re the most beautiful to me.”

The tears filled her eyes before she could stop them. She pressed her body into his and kissed him with a longing that nearly knocked them both over. She could not imagine that any other man would ever be able to see her so clearly.

But aside from Evie and Bess, Augusta told no one about her romance. She did not discuss Irving with Aunt Esther and she did not mention him to her father. The words Lois Diamond had spoken to her at Evie’s party rang in her ears. He’s probably just being nice to you because he works for your father.

When Bess questioned her about keeping Irving a secret, Augusta said it was because he worked at the store.

“Why should that matter?” Bess insisted. “George worked at the store for years.”

“Yes, but George is in law school now. The store was always temporary for him. With Irving, it’s different. He may not want to be a pharmacist, but he doesn’t want to work anywhere else. He’s hoping to be promoted one day, for Papa to make him a manager. He wouldn’t want to get that job just because he’s dating me. That’s why we’re keeping things between us quiet.”

Bess raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Because Irving told George that he wants to tell Papa, but you’re the one who keeps refusing.”

“Fine,” Augusta admitted. “The secrecy is my idea. I just… I want to be sure that Irving isn’t dating me because I’m the boss’s daughter.”

“Why would you ever think that?”

“I don’t know. Someone said something to me once.” Augusta neglected to mention that the someone was the daughter of the most powerful gangster in their neighborhood.

Bess put one arm around her sister. “That boy has loved you since the day he met you. Trust me, what Irving feels for you has nothing to do with our father or the store.”

Irving invited Augusta to his senior banquet that spring. Though it had taken him a few extra years to finish high school, he had kept his promise to his mother to earn his diploma.

Augusta wanted to accept the invitation, but the public nature of the event meant that she would have to tell her father the truth. She knew that her father thought well of Irving, but she imagined that he might be angry when he learned she had lied. She decided to tell him on an evening when Bess and George were over for dinner. She wanted to have her sister’s support, and she knew George’s presence would keep her father calm.

She’d originally intended to break the news toward the end of the meal. But before they had even finished the soup, Augusta found herself blurting it out. “Irving asked me to his senior banquet,” she said. “And I think you should know that we are dating.”

Bess pretended to be surprised. “Augusta, that’s wonderful,” she said. “Irving is a sweetheart, isn’t he, George?” George, who had already been warned by his wife, nodded amiably and said, “Of course. You know I love Irving.” No one had bothered to tell Esther, but it was clear that she’d already suspected and approved.

Only Augusta’s father was silent.

“Papa?” Augusta whispered. “What do you think?”

Her father looked up from his bowl, his soup spoon frozen in midair. Augusta was relieved that he did not seem angry, but the look on his face was full of grief.

“I think…” he began softly. “I think I’ve known about the two of you since Bess’s wedding, or even before. I think…” He stopped and stared into his soup, as if he might find an answer in the bottom of his bowl. When he lifted his eyes to meet Augusta’s, she saw that his cheeks were wet with tears. “Well, I just wish your mother were here to advise you about all of this. But I think… I think the way you look at Irving reminds me of the way your mother used to look at me.”