7. Sam
CHAPTER 7
SAM
G etting ready for the concert should’ve been quick: shower, skin, hair, suit, and ready to go. But then it hit me, this wasn’t Boston. It wasn’t even Haverford in full summer swing. The crowd would be locals, down-home year-round folks. What would they wear for a night at the park?
When I went to ask Lana, she barely cracked her door open. She was wrapped in a robe doing something to her hair, something I couldn’t see, because she dodged back to hide it.
“Sorry,” I said, turning my back. “I just wanted to ask you, how should I dress?”
“Oh! Just dress nice.” Lana slammed the door on me, leaving me none the wiser. Nice , what was nice? Not a Savile Row suit — Brad wouldn’t have that. But between band tees and waistcoats lay a whole lot of options — jacket or shirtsleeves? Tie or bow tie? No tie? Bolo tie? What would Rex or Chester wear on a night out?
I went online and found some press shots of the Ink Spots. They wore light-colored suits and dark-colored ties. Country club semi-formal. I hadn’t brought that. And going to hear Ink Spots songs didn’t mean dress like them.
I poked my head out again to ask Lana what she was wearing, only to jump back as she let out a shriek. She went streaking by me in a robe and a towel, and slammed into the bathroom.
“Sorry,” she called. “I thought you were changing.”
I wasn’t sure what she was sorry for, but I called back “that’s okay.” Then I heard water running, the fan kicking on. I retreated to my closet. In the end, it didn’t matter much what people wore. I only had a few options I counted as nice — a mid-range suit for my new business, for all the meetings I’d have to take. A couple of pairs of casual dress pants. Long-sleeved and short-sleeved shirts. A couple of ties. I put on light-colored dress pants and a long-sleeved shirt, and stood debating, tie or no tie? Or maybe a jacket. Or the short sleeves? How douchey would a sweater look, tied over my shoulders?
‘Clothes make the man,’ that’s nonsense, said Dad. Who do you think sets the fashions, fashion designers? No! It’s the people who wear them. When you’re successful, you’re fashionable, whatever you wear.
I rolled my eyes. Dad was as fashionable as a tie-dyed T-shirt. But his top execs all mimicked his style.
That doesn’t make you right, I snapped back in my head. It just makes them suck-ups, so ? —
The bathroom door opened and I heard Lana scurry by. “Two minutes,” she shouted, from down the hall. “Just grabbing my shoes, and then we can go.”
I threw back my sweater — definitely douchey — and grabbed a tie off the rack. Lana’s door closed, then opened, and I stepped out to meet her.
“I couldn’t decide, tie or— uh…” I stood dumb and gaping, tie hanging limp. Lana had somehow transformed herself. Not that she hadn’t been beautiful before, but now she was radiant. Stunning. Aglow. She’d either curled her hair or not bothered straightening it, and tied it up in a green velvet bow. Her dress was green too, a deep forest shade, which brought out the hint of red in her hair.
“Wow,” I said, breathless. Lana turned pink.
“Is it too much, the whole fifties look?”
“No! No, it’s perfect. I just— You look great.” I realized I was grinning like a fool. “Now I’m thinking I should’ve gone for a suit.”
“A suit? Oh, no, no, no.” Lana laughed. “Trust me, you don’t want to wear a suit to the park. Guys’ll be grilling. There will probably be sparklers. What you’re wearing is perfect.”
“So, tie or no tie?”
“Definitely no tie. And maybe, your button?” She made a loosening motion, and I undid my top button.
We walked the short distance from our place to the park, and I was relieved to spot other groups heading the same way. The men were about fifty-fifty in jeans and dress pants, no ties or sweaters, not a suit in sight. I’d guessed right with my outfit, except maybe my hair. A lot of the guys had slicked theirs back fifties-style, but enough of them hadn’t that I didn’t stand out.
“Over here,” called Rex, as we reached the park gate. He was standing with Chester and two women in poodle skirts. One of them ran over and swept Lana into a hug.
“Oh, hon, you came! It’s so good to see you.”
Lana made a whuffing sound, like she’d had the stuffing squeezed out of her. Chester laughed.
“Cathy, quit squishing her.”
“I’m not squishing ,” said Cathy, but she let Lana go. She stepped back to look at her, then pinched her arm. “Is it just me, or is she looking thinner?”
The other poodle-skirt woman pulled out her glasses. She wiped them on her sleeve and settled them on her nose. “She looks fine to me. Doesn’t she, Rex?”
“I wouldn’t know, Dora. I only have eyes for you.”
That got him aww s from Cathy and Lana, and a snort and an eye roll from Chester.
“These are our wives,” said Rex, to me. “Dora and Cathy, this is Brad, from the pier. The one who caught the big bass, then threw it back.”
But Dora and Cathy were fussing over Lana, drawing her aside and into their gossip. I made to follow, but Rex held me back.
“They’ve been worrying themselves sick over her since her mom passed. Thinking she was turning into some kind of shut-in.”
I tried to hide my surprise. “Her mom? Lana’s mom?”
“Oh, she didn’t mention?” Rex glanced at Chester. Chester just shrugged and looked away.
“She’s probably trying to focus on living,” Rex said. “You can only mourn so long, then you have to move on. Life sure moves on, with or without you. You’ve got to keep going or get left behind.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I tried a slow nod. But Rex didn’t see it, his eyes fixed on Dora.
“It’s the hardest thing, though. You build a life around someone, the thought you could lose them…” I got the sense he was no longer talking about Lana’s mom.
“We should hit the food stands,” said Chester. “Before they run out. Orla brought cheese twists from Soup and a Bread Bowl, and my belly won’t forgive me if I miss out.”
“Your heart would thank you,” said Rex. “All that cheese, that cholesterol.”
The two of them headed, still bickering, for the food stands. I spotted the women drifting the same way, only now there were more of them, gathered around Lana. It made my heart hurt to think of her loss, how alone she must feel, how left behind. I’d lost my own mother my junior year at high school, in the space between Christmas and spring break. Dad hadn’t told me till I came home from school, and he’d tried to convince me she’d wanted it that way.
She didn’t want you distracted. How are your grades? That’s what you can do for her, be a success. She’ll always be proud of that. She was proud of you, son.
I hadn’t known her well enough to know if that was true, but she’d still left an ache in the shape of her presence. In the shape of the good times we might still have had.
“What do they have that isn’t too messy?” Lana was standing on tiptoe, trying to read the menu. “I can’t slop on this dress. It’s my last nice one.”
Dora glanced at Cathy, who pinched her lips tight.
“How’s business going?” Dora asked. “Ready for summer?”
Lana tried to hide the pained look that darkened her face, but I saw Dora notice it. Cathy shook her head.
“We heard you had a shelf come down. That stupid dog.”
“You should talk to her,” said Chester. “Hilda Schneiderman, I mean. It’s not right, you footing the bill for her dog.”
“What? It’s not like that.” Lana turned from the menu. I saw she was flustered, wringing her hands. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it wasn’t Wiener. Yeah, he got in, but he just ran around some. The shelf fell because the plumbing’s old. I had a leak. The wall rotted out, and it all tumbled down.”
Cathy tutted. “Still, with that dog?—”
“It’s really not him. Wiener’s a sweetheart.” Lana blinked quickly — fighting back tears? I moved closer on instinct, wanting to protect her. But she didn’t seem to notice, gazing off at nothing. “If anything, it’s me,” she said. “This would never have happened when Mom was in charge.”
“Oh, no. Oh, no!” Dora fluttered her hands. “You’re learning the ropes, is all. And the plumbing’s not your fault.”
“It’s not just the plumbing. It’s the whole… everything.” Lana slumped, looking tired, then tried a weak smile. “I had no idea how much went into running that shop, the orders, the maintenance, the whole business side. Every time I think okay, I’ve got this, something pops up. Taxes. The shelf. Some delivery guy left a shipment out in the rain, six boxes soaked, and forget about insurance. They’re still trying to suss out whose fault it was, and I told them…” She sighed. “It’s never-ending.”
“You’ll catch up,” said Cathy. “I know you. You’re smart.”
“Your mom struggled too,” said Rex. “When she started out.”
I bit my tongue hard to keep from blowing my cover. The thing was, I could . I could fix this for Lana. Write her a check and make it all go away, the plumbing, her tax bill, her load of wet books. I could banish that shadow of fear from her eyes, make her light up again like when I first met her.
“I’m scared I might lose the place,” Lana said, quietly. The others were still chatting, full of suggestions, and none of them seemed to hear what she’d said. I doubted she’d meant them to, or for me to hear either. Still, the catch in her voice sent a bolt through my heart.
“I could help you,” I said, caution forgotten.
Lana blinked at me. “You mean, with repairs?”
I swallowed, gears spinning fast in my head. I had an idea, or the germ of one: I could make her shop my project, instead of starting from scratch. Pull her out of debt, teach her to thrive. Dad wanted to see me face the real world? Well, what was more real than a failing business? What success greater than changing its fate?
“Repairs, yeah,” I said. “But more than that. My dad ran a hardware store. I helped with the books. I know how taxes work, and I’m great with insurance. I could give you some pointers to get back on your feet.” I felt my throat tighten, though I hadn’t quite lied. Dad had run a hardware store, back in the day. And I was great with bookkeeping, and with insurance. And Lana was smart. With a few gentle pointers?—
“Really? You’d do that?” Lana’s eyes had gone wary, like she hardly dared hope. “I could give you a discount. You know, on your rent.”
“No, you don’t have to. I’m between jobs, remember? This’ll be fun for me, something to do. A win-win for both of us. Uh…” I was overselling it. Grinning like a doofus. But Lana was smiling, bright with relief.
“That would be so great, any advice you could give me. I’m learning, I swear, but it’s all been so?—”
“Oh, look, they’re starting.” Rex pointed at the stage. Sure enough, the band was up, tuning their guitars. Late afternoon had turned to evening, and twinkling fairy lights had come to life, hung in a swaying net above the cut-grass dance floor. A few couples were already trying their moves, spinning and giggling, bumping their hips. Lana stood watching, swaying herself.
“It was unexpected,” said Dora, falling in beside me. “Her mom’s passing, I mean. She was getting better, right up till she wasn’t. And then it was too late, you know, with the shop. To get her caught up, and not drop her right in it.”
The band struck up before I could reply, launching into a bouncy rendition of “Handy Man.” I was pretty sure that one was from the sixties, but I wasn’t about to nitpick Lana’s delighted smile. She did a half-spin, almost carefree. Cathy nudged me, her elbow sharp in my ribs.
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
I grunted. “What?”
Dora laughed. “Go dance with her! You know how, right?”
I made a tch sound. Of course I knew how. I slid in between Lana and a bopping couple, and she grinned at the sight of me.
“Aren’t they great?”
I nodded, because yeah, the band was pretty great. Lana spun and her skirt fanned out like a green dream. Her curls went bouncing as she jigged to the beat. I showed off a little and she laughed and clapped. Her joy made her luminous, and all I could think was, let’s keep this going. Keep her smile going, her shop, her life. The spark in her eyes. The hope, the relief.
I’d be her handyman, if that’s what it took.