Glimmer As You Can

by Danielle Martin

  Glimmer As You Can

  A Novel

  Danielle Martin

  For my mom

  and for the memory of my grandma—

  with love, always

  Acknowledgments

  First, to Jenny Chen at Alcove Press, thank you for your editorial wisdom. Your support and insights have been invaluable. I can’t thank you enough for helping me to bring this book to life! To the rest of the team at Alcove, including Madeline Rathle and Melissa Rechter, thank you for your work “behind the scenes.” To Rachel Keith, thank you for your attentive read.

  Thank you to Cassie Hanjian, whose guidance was key to the development of this book. Thank you to Denise Gibbon and Aroop Sanakkayala—I appreciate your support with the business of publishing. Thank you to Stephanie DeLisi for research assistance—your valuable time is appreciated.

  To my sister-in-law, mother-in-law, and father-in-law, Julie, Susan, and John—and to Paul and Aunt Dot—thank you so much for the encouragement during the years that it took to write this book! To my amazing husband, Rob—thank you for taking this book journey with me. I love taking every life journey with you! To my wonderful son—my sweet child—thank you for sharing in my happiness as my word count grew. (You can read this book when you’re an adult.)

  To my mom—one of Brooklyn’s best. Your vibrancy and sense of humor always lighten up the room, even when you’re on “speaker phone” thousands of miles away.

  Finally, to the memory of my Grandma Phyllis. You were a fantastic writer; more importantly, you were an amazing human being. Thank you for your encouragement and for your joy. Your light will forever shine.

  PART ONE

  An Invitation to Join

  1

  Lisa

  February 1962

  Under her breath, Lisa counted backward from ten.

  It happened once she reached seven: a sharp splintering sound, fine glassware smashed into a thousand pieces, each fragment marked with her name. Her shaky hands would have to tweeze those shards out from the stubborn plush of padded seats, later.

  From the jump seat to Lisa, Jane narrowed her kohl-rimmed eyes, hissing, “Aren’t you going to clean that up?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Lisa gripped the underside of her jump seat, her knuckles tight with strain.

  “It should be done already! We always hit the same turbulence. You know how much they pay per ticket overseas? About the amount your parents spend on rent for a year!” The plane bumped forward, a bucking bronco at thirty thousand feet. “These people have money! Do you know what that means?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  The jumbo jet rumbled, fighting another airstream. Lisa tensed when she heard the clatter of a porcelain teacup, followed by a shriek from a passenger as it smashed to the floor.

  * * *

  Later, as Lisa waited on a bench in the arrivals terminal, Jane hovered in front of her.

  Jane patted her flawless brown bun, taking furtive glances at anyone who might notice. “It’s unbecoming for a stewardess to cry in public, Lisa. You’re supposed to be a shining model of Pan Am in that uniform.” She repeated herself amid the blur of people who entered and exited, flooding Idlewild Airport in tidal waves. “Are you hearing me right now?”

  Lisa clasped her hands behind her neck and pushed her head down, between her knees, in a brace position.

  Jane shook her head in disgust and departed the terminal without another look.

  Two hours ago, Lisa had been a show of poise and composure. She had wiped the sweat from her brow and dusted off her uniform. She had brushed her hair until it shone golden, readying herself for Billy.

  Sitting upright with her chest thrust forward, she had enacted an illusion of waiting for no man. Instead, she was an engaged citizen, scanning the day’s headlines.

  But now on the waiting bench, her fingers twisted the bottom half of her newspaper into fine shreds.

  KENNEDY FORCES MORE CIA BIGWIGS TO RESIGN

  Lisa glanced with glazed eyes at the remains of her paper. Someone plopped down on her bench on the other side of the raised page; she kept her eyes down.

  “Can you believe these politicians?” The stranger’s British accent felt like a cold cloth across her face. “It’s always one problem or the next, isn’t it?”

  “I guess.” Lisa rubbed her eyes to clear them.

  “I wonder what those fellows did to get ousted like that.”

  “Hm.”

  “I can’t hear you, love.”

  Lisa peered over the edge of her paper. The woman had jet-black hair flipped fashionably at the tips. She might have been twenty-eight or thirty years old—six or seven years Lisa’s senior.

  She smiled at Lisa with pity, a gentle curve of her lip. “So sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt your reading.”

  “I’m just waiting.”

  “Me too. My sister is thirty minutes late. Isn’t it maddening when people are late? She only lives about ten minutes away, but she’s still late. She’s actually part-time here, behind the ticket counter—it’s not as though she would have gotten lost on her way! Any chance you might know her? Catherine Huxley is the name.” The woman eyed Lisa’s Pan Am uniform with innocent inquiry.

  “I usually don’t spend much time in the terminal.”

  “Sorry then.” The stranger shrugged, then brushed off her skirt. “Well, dear, it’s been pleasant, but I’m off to look for a cab now, with my sister missing in action. I hope your friend shows up soon!”

  She buttoned up her coat and disappeared into the crowds.

  Alone on the bench, Lisa drifted into lethargy. Strands of her hair grazed the floor tile as she drooped her head near her shoes.

  The woman returned soon, to hover over her. “Listen”—a pleasant smile—“I didn’t catch your name. Quite rude, wasn’t I?”

  Lisa croaked out her name, her voice hoarse.

  “I’m Elaine. Listen, Lisa, you know what? I just had this brilliant idea. Would you want to share a taxi? Depending on where you’re headed.”

  “I’m in Bay Ridge.”

  “Good. I’m in Brooklyn Heights—we’ll just have the cabbie drop me off first.”

  “I can’t. Sorry.”

  “All right, take it as you will! Take care, darling. Ta-ta!” The woman departed in a hurry, with speedy clicks of her heels.

  Lisa cast her heavy eyes downward and exhaled. With a huge effort, she hoisted up her dead weight. Her eyes remained glued to the floor as she waded through a sea of legs and feet.

  She pushed through the exit doors. Frigid air blasted through her blazer as she craned her neck around a long line waiting for taxis.

  She called to Elaine in a high, reedy voice. Others in the line stared at her distastefully as Elaine waved her forward with a genial smile.

  Elaine’s voice tinkled. “I gather you’ve changed your mind!”

  Teeth clenched, Lisa forced her lips into a grin. “Still want to share a cab?”

  “Absolutely—glad you came to your senses!” A fine layer of snow sprinkled down onto Elaine’s fur collar; she brushed it off as if it were so much fairy dust. A taxi pulled to the front of the line, and her voice projected an elegant melody through the cruel winds. “We’re headed to Brooklyn, if you’ll take us.”

  The cabbie coughed and hawked a hunk of tobacco from his mouth. “The roads are pretty bad, so it’s gonna take us a while. But hop in—I’ll throw your bags in the back.”

  The two of them jumped inside, and Lisa shivered, even in the warm taxi.

  As the cab pulled away from the curb, she pushed her face into the cold glass of the dirty window while Elaine thumbed through a magazine. Snow swirled outside in increasing blasts of havoc, and the two passed a dreary half
hour in the back seat—a quiet punctuated only by the squeak of the taxi’s windshield wipers.

  Finally, breaking the silence, Elaine chirped, “I think we’ll make it through this storm. What do you think?” She twisted her engagement ring, but the sizable diamond played stubborn on her delicate finger, resisting the rotation.

  “Yeah, I think so.” Lisa avoided her eyes.

  “Sorry if I’m irritating you.”

  “It’s okay.” Lisa rubbed her eyes and removed something from her bag: an old stump of pastel pink, which she smoothed over her lips with distracted determination. Eventually she eked out enough lipstick and was ready to make an effort to talk. “Where did you go, on your flight?”

  “Just over to London. I lived there till I was sixteen. My parents are still there. But I was mostly there for a wedding.”

  “That’s nice. I love weddings.” Lisa’s face screwed up, on the verge of tears.

  Elaine cleared her throat to start again. “So, tell me, dear—what it’s like to be a stewardess?”

  “I don’t know—I’ve always wanted to see the world. It’s just not easy with other people—I mean, when I’m jetting off.” Suddenly a lock seemed to unlatch, and her words tumbled forth. “My boyfriend was actually supposed to pick me up from the airport today. He never showed up. He never even sent a message while I was away.” Lisa gulped, hesitating. “I think he’s done with me.”

  Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and she kept her eyes averted from Elaine, her cheeks burning with shame.

  She had lost all composure while still wearing her flight attendant uniform. A shining model of Pan Am indeed.

  Elaine leaned over to gently pat her arm. “I’m sorry,” she said. Lisa whimpered but didn’t pull away. “Do you want to talk about it?” No response. “You’re a gorgeous girl, you know. He’s missing out.” Silence again. “I’m not just saying that, you know.”

  Lisa straightened a bit, coughing from the mess of crying that had slid down her throat. She tried to regain herself, assuming a perky voice. “How about you? Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “There’s a chap I see.” Elaine cleared her throat. “Listen, why don’t you tell me what it’s like to be a stewardess? It seems like a grand and glamorous job.”

  “It’s usually just a lot of following orders. I had to light the cigars on a flight last week, and I hate that smell.”

  “Oh? I enjoy the aroma.” Elaine paused. “So, are you planning on being a stewardess for some time?”

  “I’ll have to leave if I get married. Married women can’t be flight attendants. I mean, it’s nice to travel and all, but I would much rather be married.”

  Elaine cleared her throat, in a sudden clog. Finally, she spoke. “So, what are you going to do about your fellow? Are you going to ring him up? See where the hell he was?”

  Lisa’s face puckered, and she drew in a shallow breath.

  * * *

  Billy had given her a quick kiss when he dropped her off at the airport the prior week.

  “Don’t turn into an expat this time, babe.” He rubbed his thumb against the stiff little hairs of his stubble, eyes half-closed. “I heard those French guys don’t kiss as good as the guys from Brooklyn.” He pressed his warm lips to her ear, a smirk in his voice. “Watch out for any guys named Jacques.”

  Lisa laughed; she couldn’t help herself.

  Soon she was looking at her watch and dashing away from his car to the gate. She was behind schedule, but the passengers would never know. She pasted on her professional face, slipping into the veneer of the stewardess. Her expression was set in a glossy smile as she glided down the aisle, setting up to organize some plates. The pile of dinnerware nearly tumbled, but she used quick maneuvers to scramble and stack everything back in place.

  In the middle of this delicate operation, she startled when she felt the pointy jab of Jane’s fingernail on her shoulder.

  Jane held her arm straight out, as a stalwart bridge; a gold chain dangled from her wrist. “Your beau wanted to make sure you had this.”

  She held Lisa’s heart locket between her fingers as though it would turn her skin green. As though Lisa’s necklace were from the five-and- dime.

  With a sharp intake of surprise, Lisa snatched it back, tightening it around her neck.

  Jane laughed, then tapped her lacquered fingernail on a little port window. Beyond the tip of her index finger, Lisa saw Billy, only a few dozen yards away, on the tarmac. He was shooting the breeze with a luggage cart porter, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

  Jane’s voice was suggestive—“I guess your beau charmed his way right past the gate!”

  Lisa peered through the port window to watch the edge of Billy’s sculpted jaw tilt upward in laughter. As the plane began to roll away, she peered at him through the window, waving at him, but he continued to share jokes with the porter, not even giving her plane so much as a glance.

  Lisa found this unsettling. Billy had sneaked onto the Idlewild tarmac a few times before, but he’d always made a big show of waving good-bye, leaping up at just the right angle to catch her eye.

  When she arrived at her hotel in Paris, she waited for his message. He always sent a wire to her hotel: love you, babe or you’re beautiful. Reading his words, she would imagine his sensuous smile, his husky whisper in her ear.

  The messages had always reassured her that he would be waiting.

  But he hadn’t sent any wires this time, and he hadn’t shown up at the airport when she returned.

  * * *

  Now, in the taxicab, Lisa hid her face behind her damp blonde tresses. “Maybe he doesn’t love me anymore.”

  The cabbie cursed under his breath as they inched ahead. Fat flakes of snow whirled around in an endless vortex, the road barely visible all of a sudden.

  “Have you been having problems? Did you know something was wrong?”

  “I didn’t think anything was wrong. I must be oblivious, right?”

  Elaine shook her head, then lightly rested her hand on Lisa’s arm. “Dear, I didn’t mean anything like that. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” Lisa’s head stayed down.

  Elaine continued, “I really understand how you feel. You know what might help? Spending time with the girls. There’s this place, a social club—I mean, we drink some wine, and we read a little, discuss whatever we like.” Elaine smiled, her cheeks red as roses. “Some of us even dance.”

  Lisa stayed in a sullen silence, face squished to the window.

  After a duration, they arrived in Brooklyn Heights.

  Elaine called to the driver, “How much will that be?”

  Lisa drew a sharp breath. “Oh no! I don’t think I have any money!” She burrowed through her purse, eyes stricken as she dug for change.

  Elaine spoke again to the driver. “How much will it take for her to get to Bay Ridge?”

  “Depends how long it takes in this snow.”

  “Here, just take this. How will that do, sir?”

  The cabbie’s eyes bulged with delight at the tight little wad of cash in his hands. “That’s fine, ma’am! More than fine.”

  Lisa’s cheeks glowed bright red against her blonde hair. “I don’t want you to pay for me—I can’t accept that!”

  “You don’t really have a choice, do you? You’ve got to get yourself home.”

  “Here, wait.” Tear streaked, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled napkin and a pencil. “Write your number here.”

  “You don’t have to pay me back.”

  “It will make me feel better. Please.”

  “Okay, dear,” Elaine sighed and scrawled down her number. “This is my stop!” she called to the cabbie, and turned back to face Lisa. “Nice meeting you, dear. But don’t bother yourself about the money.”

  2

  Elaine

  The walkways were slick, slippery, and Elaine’s heels twisted on the ice, but she walked fast, in anticipation of him.

  The
door to the brownstone was ajar.

  Elaine stepped inside the foyer with caution. Books and records were scattered without rhyme or reason across the marble floors.

  “I’m home, love!” she called out, then stomped her heels on the carpet to shed the snow. She set down her valise and brushed off the grit of travel. Once tidied, she cleared her throat to make her presence known. “I’m home!” Cold air puffed from her mouth. Still in her coat, she stacked books and records and rubbed her hands together in an effort to create warmth.

  At last, Tommy stumbled forth from the inner lair—his hair askew, hands empty.

  Elaine cleared her throat. “I see you don’t have anything for me, then?”

  “When you left me alone?” Tommy’s voice trailed off, and he gave a short laugh. His tall frame was swathed in his velvet bathrobe, his eyelids half-closed. His dark hair was impeccable; combed back in a smooth wave, its coiffed perfection contrasting with the bloodshot red of his eyes. “Ma’am, ring-a-ling, ting-a-ling!” He sailed into another whistle. “Why don’t you come inside?”

  Elaine shivered with the cold. “Why was the door wide open?”

  “Gotta let in some air!” Tommy laughed to himself, then made some nostril inhalations, like a perfumer sampling a scent.

  From inside came a higher-pitched laugh.

  It was a woman’s voice. A tinkling.

  “Come join us, baby!”

  Elaine didn’t flinch. She set down her valise, then closed the front door. Her hands moved with intentional precision as she removed her overcoat and untied her scarf.

  “Hello, Catherine.”

  At the kitchen table, her sister giggled, then cradled her gin and tonic. “Your fiancé is really quite the amazing man,” she laughed. “You know he has all of the sonnets of Shakespeare memorized?”

  “I was waiting for you at the airport, you know. I had to take a taxi home.”

  “By Jove, Elaine! I didn’t know you were flying in today. What day is it, anyhow?”