“I mean, all of that,” she said, gesturing toward the house. “Not your average shindig.”
“I love it!” I said, but wanted to say so much more. I knew a world like that existed, but at the same time, I had no idea. And what I had heard was nothing at all like this. It was like stepping inside the wardrobe and emerging in Narnia for the first time. “I mean, I love Halloween.”
“Me too. Even if it is a week late.”
“You can be whoever you want.”
“Exactly. I’m happy Leonard got to have his party after all. It’s a bit of a tradition for him. And he’s not one to waste a good costume. Shame it was canceled on actual Halloween.”
“Why was it?”
“Someone tipped off the police.”
I had so many questions. The secret garden, the secret world—I wanted to know everything, but decided to wait. We were quiet, listening to the sounds of traffic on the other side of the garden wall, the honk of a car horn, the distant wail of a siren. Lucy and Ricky went back into the house, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists. Sally watched as my eyes followed them. “So…Teddy Helms?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, with a pang of sadness I hadn’t felt before.
“How long?”
“Nine months. No. Eight. No, nine-ish.”
“Are you in love?”
With the exception of Mama, people were never that direct with me. “I don’t know.”
“Honey, if you don’t know by now…”
“I do like him. I mean, I really like him. He’s funny. Smart. So smart. And kind.”
“Sounds like you’re reading from his obituary.”
“No,” I said. “I didn’t mean—”
“I’m only kidding.” She poked me in the ribs.
“What about his friend? Henry Rennet? What’s he like?”
“I don’t know him that well.” I didn’t tell her he seemed like a jackass and that I had no idea why Teddy was even friends with him. “Are you interested in him?” I envisioned a double date—me and Teddy, Sally and Henry—and the thought made my stomach flip.
“Darling.” She reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “No.” She held on, and something inside me, from a location hard to pinpoint, bloomed.
CHAPTER 13
THE SWALLOW
She was no mole—I was sure of that. A few months prior, Frank had asked me to suss out Irina and ensure her naïveté was not a put-on. It wasn’t, I’d told him. “Good,” he said. “We want her on the book project. Train her up, Sally. You know the drill.”
Befriending Irina may have been a setup and training her part of the job, but it had turned into something else—something I could’ve put my finger on but wasn’t about to just yet.
The Tuesday after Leonard’s party—my own test of sorts—I stopped by her desk and asked if she wanted to see Silk Stockings that night. I’d planned on asking her to a Sunday matinee a few days earlier but lost my nerve mid-dial and hung up.
We walked to the Georgetown Theater after work, stopping at Magruder’s for some candy to sneak in—Irina’s idea. I rarely ate candy other than chocolates, but decided to get a box of Jujubes just for the hell of it. Irina picked up two boxes of Boston Baked Beans, and we got in line to pay. “Hold my place for a second?” she asked.
She came back a minute later carrying a large bouquet of beets.
“Interesting snack choice.”
“They’re for my mother. She makes a vat of borscht once a month and asked me to pick some up at Eastern Market. She’s convinced the beets sold by this elderly Russian man are superior to the beets sold at a regular store.” She held up a finger. “It’s worth the extra nickel for the quality,” she said in a Russian accent.
I laughed. “Can she really tell the difference?”
“No! I always get them at Safeway and just take them out of the bag before I get home.”
We paid for our movie contraband and Irina stuck the beets inside her purse with the green ends sticking out. After purchasing two tickets, we made our way into the theater.
Seeing a picture was one of my greatest pleasures, and one I almost always chose to do alone. If I had the money to spare, I’d take myself to the movies once or twice a week. Sometimes I’d see the same movie two or three times, sitting in the balcony’s front row, where I could lean against the gold railing and rest my chin atop my hands.