The Inn at Lake Devine Part 26

I said, "Let's not exaggerate; it's only been a glorious twenty-four hours."

Nelson patted his brother's cheek approvingly.

Kris said, "You're in an awfully good mood for someone who was-" He stopped, then said, "Downgraded to the barracks."

"Am I?"

I said, "I noticed that, too."

"You guys worry too much." He executed the fake stretch and yawn of a bad actor, checked his watch, and asked, "Want to go? I might as well turn in early."

"Did you bring a book?" Kris asked him, a manager of lodgings without TVs, and now a guilty brother who had a woman. "Want to stop and pick up a couple of magazines?"

"Let's just get back," said Nelson.

I touched Nelson's arm. "Has it been a complete flop so far?"

"Not at all." He stood up, looking oddly untroubled. In parallel gestures, he and Kris took dollar bills out of their wallets and put them under their gla.s.s mugs.

"She'll show up at breakfast," said Kris, "which is when she came looking for us."

Nelson pushed his chair in and said, "I know you thought this weekend was going to be one big double date, but it ain't gonna happen, folks. And that's fine. I'm going to dance at her wedding."

"Whenever that is," I said.

Nelson said, "Tell you what: If we don't run into each other before the camp reunion, then I'll make a big entrance. I'll crash the party and demand one dance for old times' sake."

"When you were nothing but pals," I said.

"You've never crashed a party in your life," said Kris.

Nelson said, "I'm your older brother. I was crashing parties before you were born."

"Oh yeah? Name one."

"This one, Jack," Nelson said.

We left him at the entrance to a damp, dim pa.s.sageway, its vinyl wallpaper peeling. Watching him, the Ivy League math teacher in his pressed khakis, recede into the camp counselors' tunnel, I harrumphed, "Some change of scenery she's offering. It breaks my heart."

"I offered to talk to Estelle," said Kris. He found my hand and kissed it.

"Go to bed," Nelson yelled back.

TWENTY-TWO.

Inasmuch as a dining hall full of pious Jews on Shabbes could create a buzz, there was one at breakfast, and Nelson was its subject.

"Your brother!" cried Avi and Ira, more animated than they'd been when discussing Don La.r.s.en's perfect game. "Did you hear what happened last night? At the pool? He jumped in and saved someone!"

"The indoor pool," said a woman at the next table.

"After services," said Ira, or Avi.

"Who'd he save?" Kris asked.

"An elderly woman," said the other brother.

"A cantor's wife-"

"From Pennsylvania," said another stranger.

"Fully dressed, with heels and a big heavy pocketbook," said someone else.

"He is a professional lifeguard," said Kris.

"They should have a lifeguard on duty here, regardless," said the woman one table over.

"Is she okay?" I asked.

"She was more scared than anything else," said a man with a goatee, who was pa.s.sing by our table.

"Nelson jumped in?" I asked.

"Spread-eagle. With all his clothes on."

"I wasn't there," said a Lupow brother, "but I heard he jumped in without even taking his shoes off."

"He got her out of the pool in a matter of seconds," said the other.

"She was no little slip of a thing, either," said the man with the goatee.

"A big individual," added the woman by his side.

"Who doesn't swim," said a Lupow.

"She's from outside Philadelphia," said Victor, arriving with many juices and a vat of canned figs.

"Her husband doesn't swim, either," said the first woman.

"Where's your brother now?" Victor asked.

"Must be sleeping," said Kris.

"He deserves it," another piped up.

"He desoives breakfast in bed," said an old man. "On a silver tray."

"With a medal," said Victor.

"It'll probably make the papers," said Ira, or Avi.

"What's his name again?" someone asked.

"Nelson Berry," Kris said. "He's my brother."

"He's a teacher," said Victor.

"A swimming teacher?"

"Mathematics," said Victor.

"He was so modest," said a pretty woman with a perfect flip to her wig. "He said it was instinctive."

"We were there," said her husband. "He flew into the water, never giving a thought to his own safety."

"He's a very experienced lifeguard," I said.

"At the Inn at Lake Devine," plugged Kris.

"What was she doing by the pool?" I asked.

"Just walking by! Oneg Shabbat was in the Coney Island Room. She lost her balance."

"Her pressure," I heard.

"Her sugar."

"Her inner ear."

"It would have been some lawsuit," said a bald man in pinstripes, "if a guest of this hotel had drowned on her way to Oneg Shabbat."

"She was lucky Nelson was there," I said.

"Hal Feldman is the lucky one," said the well-dressed man.

Nelson, pressing a pillow over his face, denied the heroics. "I couldn't help myself," he groaned. "All those years-I didn't even think. I saw her go in, and I went flying like a jerk, shoes and all. They're ruined. It wasn't even over her head."

"Everybody's talking about you," I said. "They're saying you saved her life."

"Someone screamed," he said, "and next thing I knew ..." He pantomimed a plane taking off.

"We brought you a danish and a m.u.f.fin," said Kris.

I looked around the austere barracks and saw nothing but a toiletry kit that was exactly like Kris's. "Where's your stuff?" I asked.

He sat up and arranged the raggedy white thermal blanket at his waist. Same chest-hair swirls as his brother, I noticed. "In the laundry," he said.

I asked if his suit was ruined.

"They should buy you a new one," said Kris.

"That was discussed," said Nelson.

"With whom?"

"With the grateful management," he said.

"With Linette?" I asked.

Nelson said, with a teacher's wide-eyed irony, "That's right, Natalie. I discussed it with Linette."

"She saw you fish out the cantor's wife?"

"Wait," said Kris. "Did she, like, just happen to be there?"

"It was after services."

"You went to services?"

"We talked after I got back from town."

"You called her?" asked Kris.

Nelson gestured around the room. "Do you see a phone?"

We saw six sets of bunk beds and twelve unpainted pine bureaus with initials gouged into every surface.

"She just showed up?" I asked.

Nelson finished the danish and peeled the paper from the m.u.f.fin. He said finally, "She came over to say h.e.l.lo and to pay her respects."

"And?" said Kris.

"And nothing. We had a lot to catch up on.... You didn't bring coffee, did you?"

I said, "No, sorry. Did she look the same?"

"Her hair's a little more out of control. She used to iron it."

"She came here to talk?" asked Kris, "when there's ten lobbies upstairs and a couple of hundred couches?"