“Artie and... and Marjorie. Perele, I’m afraid. They’re two young people and they like each other and....” Her voice trailed off

June 1964

The squeal of brakes, Artie’s feet pounding down the wooden stairs, Ruchele’s delighted shouts, even the gentle tap of Annie’s knitting needles falling, unheeded, onto the porch: After the tranquility of the morning, the sounds seemed exaggerated, overwhelming, even frightening.

Annie forced herself to stand up, willing her heart to stop pounding. She walked slowly toward the car.

Marjorie’s car.

Three figures poured out of the Mustang. Marjorie, of course, flew out from the driver’s side, but was that Perele Schwartz coming out more sedately through the passenger door? And — shock after shock — Annie saw Moey contorting his long legs out of the back seat.

Everyone spoke at once, a cacophony of laughter, handshakes, and explanations that seemed to press upon Annie’s spirit, dulling her reactions even as she forced a smile.

Sorting out all the voices, Annie discovered that this visit was Moe’s brainstorm. “When you called to wish me and Papa Good Shabbos, Sis, and told me all about the hotel here, I decided it would be a good idea to check it out, and maybe visit some other hotels in the area. We want to start thinking about fixing up the hotel, and the way you described this place, sounds like it needs a bunch of repairs. I figured it would be a good idea to schmooze with the owner, since you told me how nice he is.”

He cast a glance at the building’s shabby facade and lowered his voice. “Plenty to talk about, when it comes to repairs. This place makes our Freed Hotel look like the Ritz. Anyway,” he continued, laughing, “I mentioned it to Mrs. Schwartz, who told Miss Burton....” He laughed again. “You know, everyone knows everything about everybody in the hotel.  Miss Burton kindly offered to drive me up. I’m still not very used to the American way of driving on the other side of the road, and it’s a long trip.  And we decided to surprise you, just for the fun of it. Mrs. Schwartz,” he said, bowing his head toward Perele, “offered to join us, to make sure Miss Burton drove carefully, though,” again, a laugh, “that didn’t exactly happen.”