Page 18 of The Book of Summer

“Well,” he said. “I am too old for babies. Grandchildren, perhaps. Something to consider when the time comes.”

“Swell idea. Alas, your children might not appreciate having to name their offspring after their father’s golfing pal. Not to mention future spouses’ opinions on the matter.”

“Ah,” Rubber Man said with a wide grin. “There’s a solution to that. My only daughter goes to your oldest son.” He jabbed his club into the ground. “And so it is decreed.”

And wouldn’t you know? Some years later, on the lawn of the great Cliff House, the only daughter would go to the oldest son after all.

Whether this “deal,” however made in jest, sealed the fate of this young couple, we shall never know. But one thing is certain. The Dentist’s son will be forever grateful for a universe that befitted him with such a spectacular gal.

10

RUBY

July 1940

“So you’ll really go through with it?” Topper said. “The hitching?”

He was supine on Ruby’s bed, lobbing a baseball from one hand to the other.

“Why wouldn’t I go through with it?” she asked.

Their mother would have a fit, seeing Topper in Ruby’s room while she was in nothing but a panty girdle and a bra. But Ruby didn’t have a sister, and her nearest brother, ten months younger on the nose, was the next best thing. Not that Topper was at all girlie, especially with his sports playing and skirt chasing, but he was doggone skilled at humoring his sister and pretending they were interested in the same things.

“I don’t get it,” Topper said. “Why, exactly, are you marrying him? Because I can’t really figure it out.”

“What’s there to figure out? It’s quite simple, really. I love Sam. He’s kind, and smart, and devastatingly handsome. All the usual reasons.”

“Are those the usual reasons, then? I’m glad to have you around to tell me.”

“I do what I can.”

Ruby stood and walked over to her dress, which hung from the pink wardrobe in the corner. After giving it a thorough glare, she took to patting it down. Forty yards of silk taffeta. Lord almighty, it looked like a hurricane. The blasted thing could’ve swept up Dorothy and taken her to Oz.

“We want the same things,” Ruby said. “Sam and I.”

Topper froze, holding the baseball to his chest.

“Huh,” he said with a faint chuckle. “I guess you do. Youwantto want them, in any case.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Ruby said, and rolled her eyes. “Babble all you want, but despite your best efforts, the hitching will commence at eleven.”

Topper snorted and took to throwing the ball against the ceiling. Clonk, clonk, clonk. Mother would appear at any moment, materializing like a chimera and sporting a sour-lemon frown. Ruby glanced out the window toward the orchestra practicing in the distance. They had a fair length to go until they were fine-tuned.

“I’m not sure about this thing,” Ruby said, turning her attention back to the dress. “There’s quite a lot of taffeta.”

“I thought that was the point? Anyhow, you’re stuck now. You should junk the hat though, Red. Not flattering a’tall.”

He called her this, Red, despite hair that was golden like the summer sand. She was strawberry blond as a young child, but mostly it was a play on her name. Red, as in Ruby Red, though she was never as colorful as that.

“What do you have against him?” she asked.

“Who? The hat?”

“Yes, the hat,” Ruby said, and rolled her eyes again. “I’ve named him Pete. He’s quite the fella. I meant Sam, you dope.”

Topper sniggled.

“What’s the rub?” she asked. “You two used to be grand pals.”

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