up the cliff there.”
They all agreed without a moment’s hesitation. Intrepid explorers did not let little things like copperheads get in the way of expanding mankind’s knowledge of the terra incognita men called Edgewater, New Jersey.
But when Toni returned home she was welcomed not with the huzzahs that greeted Admiral Peary or Charles Lindbergh but a cry of horror from her mother: “Antoinette, what in God’s name happened to you?” Toni remembered now the torn dress, noticing for the first time that those parts of her dress that weren’t torn were caked with dirt and moss.
“Oh. This? I tore it on a rock,” Toni said.
“Oh, your beautiful dress,” Adele said forlornly. “I spent so much time making that. Where were you? Down at the river again?”
“Oh, no, Mama. I was in Davy’s backyard.”
“Is that all?” Adele said. “Are you lying to me?”
“Mama, I swear, I never left his backyard!”
Technically this was true. Eddie, listening from his easy chair, said, “Are you hurt, hon?”
“No, Daddy, I’m fine.”
“Well,” Adele said with a sigh, “I may be able to fix the tear. But first I’ve got to wash all that dirt out of it. All right, young lady, off with it.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. Off.”
Toni raised her dress over her head and her mother lifted it off as if she were shucking an ear of corn. Adele sighed again and headed for the downstairs laundry room. When his wife was out of earshot, Eddie glanced over at his daughter and said, “Toni?”
“Yes, Daddy?”
“Next time wear old clothes, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And I want you to promise me something else.”
“Sure.”
“Never go higher than you think is safe. Never let anyone else goad you into going higher than you think is safe. Can you promise me that?”
Toni was surprised her father knew what she had been doing, but pleased that he was not forbidding her from doing it again. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good.” Eddie smiled. “Was it fun?”
Toni grinned. “It was the mostest fun I’ve ever had in my whole life,” she said, and ran gleefully, still in her knickers, into her bedroom.
* * *
In late April Eddie and Adele returned to Palisades Park to prepare their new stand for the May 14 opening. It was in an excellent location directly opposite the pool, where the enticing aroma of French fries would waft across to hungry bathers—as they had to Eddie on that long-ago day at the park. Since the stand had once been a roast beef joint, there was already a gas stove in the back; all Eddie needed to do was to test the gas, check out the electrical connections, and hook up the large cooking vats which would soon be filled with bubbling corn oil. Then he and Adele set about scrubbing the grease off the stove, mopping the floors, cleaning and repainting the walls, and constructing a new sign for the marquee that read:
10¢ Saratoga 10¢
French Fries
No one seemed to know why they were called “Saratoga” fries, but far be it for Eddie and Adele to mess with a good thing.
Adele always enjoyed these first few weeks before the opening, when she could renew old friendships and meet new neighbors—among which, it turned out, there was at least one familiar face.
She was returning from the ladies’ room when she passed a new concession going up—a cigarette wheel. Similar in principle to ones used in roulette except hung vertically on a side wall, the wheel was already in place and someone was painting numbers and letters on the “layout,” the betting counter. But the shelves that should have been on their way to being filled with prizes—in this case, cartons of cigarettes—were still bare. Out in front of the stand was a tall young woman—at least five foot eight and wearing heels, no less—with her blonde hair pulled back in a chignon. She was holding a carton of cigarettes from one of the many boxes around her, a steely tone in her voice—a familiar voice,
They all agreed without a moment’s hesitation. Intrepid explorers did not let little things like copperheads get in the way of expanding mankind’s knowledge of the terra incognita men called Edgewater, New Jersey.
But when Toni returned home she was welcomed not with the huzzahs that greeted Admiral Peary or Charles Lindbergh but a cry of horror from her mother: “Antoinette, what in God’s name happened to you?” Toni remembered now the torn dress, noticing for the first time that those parts of her dress that weren’t torn were caked with dirt and moss.
“Oh. This? I tore it on a rock,” Toni said.
“Oh, your beautiful dress,” Adele said forlornly. “I spent so much time making that. Where were you? Down at the river again?”
“Oh, no, Mama. I was in Davy’s backyard.”
“Is that all?” Adele said. “Are you lying to me?”
“Mama, I swear, I never left his backyard!”
Technically this was true. Eddie, listening from his easy chair, said, “Are you hurt, hon?”
“No, Daddy, I’m fine.”
“Well,” Adele said with a sigh, “I may be able to fix the tear. But first I’ve got to wash all that dirt out of it. All right, young lady, off with it.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. Off.”
Toni raised her dress over her head and her mother lifted it off as if she were shucking an ear of corn. Adele sighed again and headed for the downstairs laundry room. When his wife was out of earshot, Eddie glanced over at his daughter and said, “Toni?”
“Yes, Daddy?”
“Next time wear old clothes, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And I want you to promise me something else.”
“Sure.”
“Never go higher than you think is safe. Never let anyone else goad you into going higher than you think is safe. Can you promise me that?”
Toni was surprised her father knew what she had been doing, but pleased that he was not forbidding her from doing it again. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good.” Eddie smiled. “Was it fun?”
Toni grinned. “It was the mostest fun I’ve ever had in my whole life,” she said, and ran gleefully, still in her knickers, into her bedroom.
* * *
In late April Eddie and Adele returned to Palisades Park to prepare their new stand for the May 14 opening. It was in an excellent location directly opposite the pool, where the enticing aroma of French fries would waft across to hungry bathers—as they had to Eddie on that long-ago day at the park. Since the stand had once been a roast beef joint, there was already a gas stove in the back; all Eddie needed to do was to test the gas, check out the electrical connections, and hook up the large cooking vats which would soon be filled with bubbling corn oil. Then he and Adele set about scrubbing the grease off the stove, mopping the floors, cleaning and repainting the walls, and constructing a new sign for the marquee that read:
10¢ Saratoga 10¢
French Fries
No one seemed to know why they were called “Saratoga” fries, but far be it for Eddie and Adele to mess with a good thing.
Adele always enjoyed these first few weeks before the opening, when she could renew old friendships and meet new neighbors—among which, it turned out, there was at least one familiar face.
She was returning from the ladies’ room when she passed a new concession going up—a cigarette wheel. Similar in principle to ones used in roulette except hung vertically on a side wall, the wheel was already in place and someone was painting numbers and letters on the “layout,” the betting counter. But the shelves that should have been on their way to being filled with prizes—in this case, cartons of cigarettes—were still bare. Out in front of the stand was a tall young woman—at least five foot eight and wearing heels, no less—with her blonde hair pulled back in a chignon. She was holding a carton of cigarettes from one of the many boxes around her, a steely tone in her voice—a familiar voice,
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