“But —” said Dana.
“There’ll be time for family photos later.”
Dana watched Julia drift off in the direction of their mother, Peter holding on to the sash of her dress, his Roy Rogers sloshing over the side of the glass.
The evening swirled by. Dana found her brother and sister again and they decided to sample every single thing that went by on a tray.
“Ew!” cried Julia as she sampled a chunk of pickled watermelon, but then she reached for another.
“Hmm,” said Peter, swallowing a cracker piled with what looked like bright orange pearls.
“More caviar?” the waiter asked him.
“No, thank you,” said Peter politely. “Dana, do you have a napkin?”
Dana was looking for the waiter whose tray was laden with the teensy cakes he had said were called petit fours, when her father made his way to her through the crowd. “It’s time, pumpkin,” he said. “Ready?”
“I guess so. I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be. All you have to do is sign your name. And smile a lot.”
Dana, Julia, and Peter followed their father to the table with the pyramid of books.
“Ah! There they are,” said Saul, who was standing behind the table. “Zander, you sit there, and, Dana, you sit next to him. Each of the guests will be given a copy of the book. They’ll wait on line for their turn to meet you and to have the book signed. And that’s it. We should be done in about two hours.”
“Two hours?” exclaimed Dana. She looked at the line that was starting to form and at the huge crowd of people still laughing and talking and eating. “Okay,” she said. “We’d better get started.”
The very first person in line — an unsmiling woman who, to Dana’s fascination, was wearing a silver tiara in her piled-up blond hair — handed her copy of Father to Zander and said, “I hope this is as good as the rest of your books.”
Zander cleared his throat. “Well, I hope so, too.” He passed the book to Dana. “This is my daughter Dana, the illustrator.”
Dana carefully printed her name under Zander’s signature and handed the book back to the woman. She glanced helplessly at her father. “Um, I hope you enjoy it,” she said, and the woman’s face softened.
“I’m sure I will,” she said. “Thank you.”
Dana signed her name so often that night that her wrist began to ache. But each time she handed a book back to a pair of outstretched hands, she said, “Thank you for coming,” or “I hope you enjoy it,” or “It was nice to meet you,” and she remembered to smile.
Saul disappeared at some point, then returned with two glasses of water, which he placed on the table between Dana and her father. Dana didn’t have time to reach for hers. She continued signing and smiling and saying thank you, and when, eventually, she leaned over to peer at her father’s wristwatch, she was amazed to see that it was almost midnight.
“Dad!” she cried. “Look how late it is.”
She glanced around the ballroom and saw that most of the guests were leaving. In a chair against the wall not far away sat Dana’s mother, Peter dozing in her lap. Julia was in a chair next to them, sound asleep, head tipped back against the wall, her hair ribbon dangling down the side of her face.
“I think we’re about done here,” Saul said at last.
Dana barely remembered leaving the Grand Ballroom and climbing inside another waiting limousine. She fell asleep as soon as she had settled into her seat and didn’t wake up until she heard her father thanking the driver and urging his tired family onto the sidewalk. Abby carried Peter inside and laid him on his bed, still in his suit.
Dana and Julia stumbled to their rooms. Dana had just closed her door when she heard Julia call from the hallway, “You’re going to be famous someday.”
Dana opened her door. “What?”
“You’re going to be famous. I can already tell. Or else you’re going to do something great. But not me. I guess I don’t mind, though. I don’t think I want to be famous. That’s just one of the ways we’re different.”
“Remember, it’s okay to be different. We don’t always have to be samesies.”
“I know.” Julia stooped to pick up Squeaky. She held him to her cheek. “I know.”
“Like Mom and Adele,” said Dana. “They’re not twins, but they’re sisters, and look how different they are. They’re still really, really close, though. You know what? Tomorrow we should go roller-skating in the park. Just us, okay? It’ll be fun.”
The look that Julia flashed was so grateful that Dana fell asleep that night feeling guilty, and dreamed of running down a long, dark city street, escaping from a girl who looked exactly like her.
“Why can’t I go with you?” Peter wanted to know. He was standing in the front hall at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, lower lip trembling.
“I told you, lovey,” said Dana’s mother. “It’s going to be a very late night.”
“But Julia and Dana are going.”
Abby sighed. “Do you really want to go to a dinner party at Saul’s house on Staten Island? That’s all we’re doing. We aren’t going to the Plaza or to Rumpelmayer’s.”
Dana sat on the bottom step and pulled her brother into her lap. “It’s another party for Dad’s book. I’m only going because I drew the pictures. And Julia’s going because Saul thought that if he invited me, then he had to invite my twin. But I’d rather stay here with you and Mrs. Burger and play card games.”
Peter’s lip stopped trembling. “Maybe Mrs. Burger will have Bazooka Bubble Gum this time.”
“She did the last week,” said Dana.
“I better go find my cards,” Peter said, and began climbing the stairs, one slow step up at a time, right foot first, the left catching up, the way he had climbed them since he was three years old and had first learned.
When the Burleys were ready to leave, Zander leaned over to Peter, who was seated on the living room sofa with Mrs. Burger, and kissed the top of his head. “Have fun, pardner,” he said, since Peter was wearing his holster and cowboy boots and fringed vest. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” said Peter. Then he turned to Mrs. Burger. “Go fish.”
* * *
The party at Saul’s house was exciting at first. Father had become a best seller overnight and everyone wanted to meet Zander Burley, who was now more famous than ever. Dana and Julia walked among the guests, drinking Shirley Temples, sampling hors d’oeuvres, and answering questions about what it felt like to be a twin and what it felt like to have a famous father. Sometimes a guest would tell Dana she was very talented and ask if she wanted to be an artist when she grew up, and Dana would nod her head seriously.
Dana’s father had three cocktails before dinner began, and another one with dinner, followed by several glasses of wine.
“Slow down,” Dana heard Abby whisper harshly to him as dessert was being served.
Zander smiled at her in an unfocused way, picked up his spoon, breathed heavily on it, and stuck it on his nose, where, miraculously, it remained even after he had taken his hand away. “Magic!” he proclaimed.
Dana’s mother looked away in disgust.
The guests began to leave just after midnight. Dana had almost fallen asleep at the table and had only been startled back into wakefulness when Julia elbowed her in the ribs.
“People are staring at you,” Julia had hissed.
“No, they’re not. They’re staring at Dad.”
Dana made a dash for her coat the moment she heard her mother say, “Saul, thank you so much. This has been lovely. We hate to leave, but we’d better catch the ferry. We told the sitter we’d be back by one.”
The wind that night was fierce. It whipped Dana’s hair into her face as she and her sister and parents arrived at the St. George terminal. “Brrr,” she said aloud, stuffing her hands in her pockets.
“Thank goodness,” murmured Abby as they boarded the ferry a few minutes later. She put her hand to her mouth, and
Dana thought she looked pale.
Zander stepped onto the deck, chose a spot, and stood by the rail, weaving from side to side. Dana realized that his unsteadiness had little to do with the motion of the boat. “Dad?” she said.
“Shalom!” Zander cried gaily.
Dana, one eye on Abby, who was arm in arm with Julia, took her father by the elbow and urged him forward. “Let’s go inside.”
Zander didn’t seem to hear her. “Look what a beeyutiful night it is,” he said, positioning himself stubbornly at the rail again.
The wind was now churning Dana’s hair like an egg beater and clouds were scudding across the moon. Dana didn’t think the night was beautiful at all.
The ferry left the terminal and pulled into Upper New York Bay. It had traveled for less than five minutes when Abby said, “Excuse me, I don’t feel very well,” and began to make her way to the ladies’ room.
“I’ll go with you,” said Julia. She frowned at her father and added, “You stay here with Daddy, Dana.”
“Mom?” Dana called.
“I’ll be all right,” said Abby.
Dana’s father crossed his arms and rested them on the rail as if he had come across an old friend at a restaurant and were leaning in for a chat. He turned his eyes upward to the moon, which was now completely obscured by clouds, and began to sing, “Shine on, shine on, harvest moon, up in the sky!”
“Dad, shh!”
“Something . . . something . . . since June or — Hey! My hat!”
Dana saw the wind lift her father’s hat from his head and send it sailing — very, very slowly, it seemed — out over the bay. When her father lurched forward to grab for the hat, this seemed to happen slowly, too. And when he climbed up on the railing, that happened even more slowly, which was why Dana thought she could catch her father before he fell into the churning, frigid water. She thrust her hand out and clutched at the back of his coat, but found that her hand was empty.
Her father had disappeared.
“Dad!” Dana screamed. “Dad!” She turned around. Not many people were riding the ferry at this hour, and most of the passengers were inside, escaping the wind and cold. “Help!” she shouted. “Help me! Mom! Julia!”
* * *
Later, Dana could not recall a single detail of the search for her father, even though she was there for the desperate beginning of it. Abby made certain that the twins were hustled off the ferry in Manhattan and, as quickly as possible, delivered into the arms of a stunned Adele, who had taken a taxi she could barely afford to the terminal. Adele hurried the girls into the taxi and jumped in after them. As they pulled away, Dana turned to look out the back window and saw her mother speaking with a policeman. In the distance she could hear rescue boats grinding their way across the bay.
“Mommy was barfing and barfing in the bathroom,” Julia whispered to Dana.
Dana stared at her. “Dad is gone,” she said. “Don’t you understand that?”
The taxi wound through the quiet streets of lower Manhattan. Dana, sitting between Julia and Adele, stared out the window. Adele reached for her hand and Dana snatched it away. Then she felt small and mean, and offered her hand back to her aunt and took Julia’s hand as well.
When the cab drew up in front of their house, Dana saw Mrs. Burger framed in the lighted doorway, waiting. She ushered everyone inside. Adele opened her purse. “I don’t think I have quite enough —” she started to say.
Mrs. Burger waved her hand away. “Put that back. I don’t want it. And I’m staying tonight. What do you want me to do?”
Adele took off her coat and sank onto the couch in the living room. “Well, let me think. I suppose I should call Rose —” She broke off and glanced at the twins. “Could you put the girls to bed, please, Letti?” she asked.
In the midst of Dana’s panicked thoughts, she found herself thinking, Mrs. Burger’s first name is Letti.
“I don’t want to go to bed,” said Julia.
Mrs. Burger didn’t seem to hear her. She stood wordlessly at the bottom of the stairs and waited until the twins began to climb them. Dana felt a weariness overtake her and suddenly thought her legs might not have the strength to carry her to her room, but before she knew it, she was in her nightgown and under the covers, and Mrs. Burger was tucking her in. She looked intently at Dana. “Is there anything you want to ask me?”
“Did Peter win at go fish?”
Mrs. Burger’s kind eyes filled with tears. “Yes.”
“Okay. Good night.”
* * *
Despite her weariness, Dana lay awake for a long time that night, straining to hear sounds from below — the ring of the phone, her aunt’s voice — but heard only the creaks and groans of the old house, and once, the roar of a motorcycle. She awoke late the next morning, pale January sunshine seeping around the edges of her curtains, when Julia knocked on her door and leaned inside. “Mommy’s waiting for you to get up so we can have a family meeting.”
“Why?”
“You know why. Come downstairs.”
Dana took her time. She didn’t want to see anybody’s swollen eyes or listen to her mother try to explain to Peter where his father was.
“Dana!” Julia shouted.
“Okay. I’m coming.”
At the bottom of the stairs Dana bumped into Mrs. Burger, who hugged her and then disappeared into the kitchen. Dana crept into the living room, where her mother, Adele, Julia, and Peter were sitting silently. Peter was wearing his holster again, fingering the silver gun it held, and Dana could see him mouthing, “Stick ’em up,” as he looked longingly at it. She squished onto the couch so that she could sit as close to Peter as possible.
For a moment, no one said a word. Then Dana’s mother drew in her breath. Her eyes were as swollen as Dana had feared they would be, and Dana looked away from them. “Peter,” Abby began, “there was an accident last night.”
“Yeah,” said Peter. Then, “An accident?”
“And Daddy is gone.”
“Where?”
“I mean, he isn’t coming back.”
“Why?”
Julia began to tremble. Dana could actually feel her twin’s body shuddering.
“Are we sure?” Julia whispered.
Abby nodded. “They found his body.”
“Did he drown?” said Julia in another whisper.
“Of course he drowned!” exclaimed Dana. “He fell in the water.”
From across the room, Adele said, “Dana, why don’t you come here and sit with me?” and Dana crawled gratefully into her aunt’s lap.
“Peter, do you understand what’s happened?” asked Abby.
Peter nodded. “Daddy fell,” he said cheerfully.
“I couldn’t catch him,” said Dana in a small voice.
Abby swiveled her head around. “Oh no!” she exclaimed. “Oh, Dana, it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have done anything.”
Dana looked stonily at her mother. “Maybe you could have.”
“What?”
“Maybe you could have caught him. You’re a grown-up.”
“But I . . .”
“I know, I know. You were sick.”
Dana heaved herself out of Adele’s lap and started for the stairs. Her mother was such a . . . what was the word that had been on her fifth-grade vocabulary list the week before? Hypocrite? Her mother was such a hypocrite. All evening she had hounded Dana’s father about his drinking, but she was the one who had wound up sick in the restroom on the ferry. If she hadn’t had too much to drink, then she would have been at Zander’s side when his hat had blown off, and she would have caught him or caught the hat, and this day wouldn’t be spreading out before Dana like a slow scream.
Dana retreated to her room. She lay across her unmade bed, slipped off her shoes, and hurled them, one at a time, at the door.
Her world had cracked open. The center of her family was gone.
Dana didn’t know how she was supposed to proceed with her life.
“Girls? It’s time.”
Dana heard her mother’s voice and then a knock on her door, followed by a knock on Julia’s door.
“Girls?” Abby called again.
“Okay,” mumbled Dana. She squinted at her alarm clock. Six fifteen. Then she sat up in a hurry. “Mom?” She flew out of bed and pulled her door open. She found her mother standing by Peter’s bed, one hand cradling her huge belly. “Is it really time?” asked Dana, heart pounding. “The baby is coming?”
Dana’s mother tried to smile at her, but grimaced instead. She stood very still and drew in a deep breath. Then she let it out slowly. “Yes. The baby is coming. I already called Adele and Mrs. Burger. They’ll be here as soon as they can.”
“But what should I do?” cried Dana. “Aren’t you supposed to lie down or something? Let me get Peter up.” She looked at her brother, who was lying on his back, one arm flung over the edge of the bed. He was snoring lightly. “Actually, let’s just let him sleep. We don’t need to wake him.”
“He’ll want to say good-bye to me,” said Abby in a small voice.
This was true. In the months since Zander had died, Peter had begun insisting on knowing where Dana and Julia and their mother were at all times. No one could leave the house without first seeking out Peter and announcing, “I’m just running to the market. I’ll be back in half an hour.” Or “I’m going over to Marian’s house, Peter.” The problem was that sometimes Peter forgot what he’d been told, and then tears and accusations were sure to follow. More than once, Dana had entered her house to be greeted by a furious Peter shouting, “Where were you? You didn’t tell me you were leaving!”
Dana sighed. “He’ll just forget if you say good-bye to him now. He’s so sleepy. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to him when he wakes up.”
She closed the door to her brother’s room, and she and her mother made their way downstairs.
“Do you have your suitcase?” asked Dana.
Her mother pointed to the front door, where a small brown suitcase (which had been packed for two weeks) was waiting.
“How long have you been up?”