But she wanted Bobby to kiss her. She wanted him to pull her close, press her to him, and kiss her. She fell asleep aching for his kisses. She daydreamed about his body underneath the shabby suit he always wore. She knew it would be lean and hard, because sometimes when they walked together he put his arm around her and she could feel his chest and the muscles in his arm. She imagined herself stroking his warm, smooth skin, and running her fingers through his curling hair, and then she'd be aware that her face was red and deep inside her there was a hot, fluttery feeling. At those moments Rose could almost convince herself that she really could trust him. Then she'd remember the hungry look in Bobby's eyes when he passed a theater marquee, and she'd remind herself that he had never asked her to go out for dinner. She still wasn't sure about him and how he felt about her. She needed to know more.

“Tell me about your family,” she said one morning.

“I'm an only child,” Bobby said. “My parents met in the twenties. My father was Fred Manning—he came out of northern California. I think I have a couple of uncles out there, but Dad lost touch with his family when he left home. He was a musician in a band at a summer camp for adults in the Catskills. Mother—her name was Caroline—was a guest at the camp.

“She was a stenographer. She lived in Queens with her parents, but she had a lot of class, so my dad thought she had money. By the time he realized she was as broke as he was, he was in love with her. So he married her anyway.”

“That's very romantic,” Rose said.

“Yeah.” Bobby smiled a twisted little smile. “Then he cheated on her for the rest of his life.”

Clearly he was bothered by that, and that pleased Rose. She thought it was a good sign for his future as a husband.

“My old man had plenty of opportunities to run around,” Bobby went on. “After my folks were married, he got a job as a waiter during the week. But on the weekends, he and the band used to play weddings and bar mitzvahs around New Jersey, Connecticut, and New York State. There were always women who were willing to have a little roll in the hay with the hired help.” Bobby stopped and finished off the last of their cheesecake—it was a Lindy's day—before continuing. “Dad died when I was six. He'd always had a bad heart, and it just gave out. My mother went back to work as a stenographer.”

“She must have been a young woman—why didn't she get married again?”