The hotel was on Pacific Avenue a block off the boardwalk and it had been a Marriott in the seventies and was now privately owned by a family from Margate who had bought it in '94 and fixed the lobby and not yet fixed the elevators. The lobby smelled like fresh flowers and old radiators. The desk clerk was a woman in her fifties who looked at the two of them and at no one else in the room and gave Vinnie the keys to a small suite on the eighth floor that faced the ocean.
"Mr. and Mrs. Marchetti."
"Thank you."
"There's a card on the desk in the room. Pellegrino on ice. A small thing from the house for the holiday."
"That's very kind."
She did the smile that older women in the hospitality industry did when they had decided in the first ten seconds that a couple was worth their best care.
"Take the elevator to seven and walk up. Eight is the floor we don't trust the elevator to find."
"All right."
"Mrs. Marchetti, Happy New Year."
Elena did the smile that was the closer of her two smiles and said Happy New Year back without correcting the name.
In the elevator she squeezed his hand once. They got out on seven. The stairwell to eight smelled like the radiators in the lobby and like the carpet of a building that had been carpeted in 1978 and not since. The suite door was at the end of the hall.
He let her in first.
Two windows. A small balcony. The ocean was where they had been told it would be. Off to the left, the lights of the Showboat. Off to the right, the lights of the Trump. Between, the dark of the boardwalk and the darker of the water and, very far out, the lights of a freighter that was either moored or moving so slowly it looked the same. She walked to the window and did not put her bag down for a minute and then she put it down on the small table by the window and stood there.
"It's a real ocean."
"It's a real ocean."
"Vincent."
"Yes."
"I haven't seen the ocean in three years. I told you a thing about Cape May at Maria's. You remembered."
"I remembered."
She did not turn around. She put one hand flat against the glass.
He set their bags down by the closet.
She turned around.
"Where's Tommy."
"At his sister's in Cherry Hill until Tuesday. He turned the phone off. He told me to turn mine off. I turned mine off."
"You turned the phone off."
"For thirty-six hours."
"Vincent —"
"Two days, Elena. Just us."
She put her hand on the back of her neck. Did the small laugh that was the one she did when she was about to admit something she had not planned to admit.
"I packed three dresses. I didn't know which one."
"Pack three. Wear all three."
"I'm not wearing three at once."
"One a night."
"There's two nights."
"You're gonna sleep in the third."
She laughed. Out loud this time. The one through the nose.
The afternoon went by the way an afternoon at the ocean off-season goes by when you do not have anywhere to be. They walked the boardwalk. Two-thirds of the shops were closed for the season but the saltwater taffy place was open and they bought a small white-and-gold-striped bag with six pieces and ate four of them on the walk back to the hotel and Vinnie put two in his coat pocket and forgot they were there. They had an early dinner at a steak place on Pacific because Elena wanted steak and not Italian food for the first night of a weekend that was about being a different version of themselves than the ones they were when they ate Italian food.
By eight she was at the mirror in the suite putting on earrings.
He was at the dresser pretending to look for cufflinks he had already found.
The red dress was on a hanger on the closet door. She had not put it on yet. She was still in the slip and the half-zip of the back of the dress was open. She had pearls on the dresser. She had two of the three pairs of earrings she had brought, in front of her, and she was picking.
He picked the box up out of the inside pocket of the suit jacket he had not yet put on.
He turned around.
"Elena."
"Mm."
"I'm going to do a thing now. I'm doing it now because I'd rather you have it on through dinner than have it sitting on a nightstand at midnight. That's the only reason I'm doing it now. There's no other reason."
She looked at him in the mirror.
She did not turn.
He walked the four steps to her.
He held the box out at his hip.
She turned.
She looked at the box. She looked at his face. She looked at the box again. She did not put her hand out. She did not say anything for what was probably four seconds and felt like longer.
Then she put her right hand out.
He set the box in it.
She opened it.
She looked at the ring. She looked at him.
"Vincent."
"Yeah."
"It's the right one."
"I know."
"How did you —"
"I asked the man at the store what a serious lawyer would wear. He said not too big. I said what about for a serious lawyer who's marrying a serious man. He said not too big. I bought what he showed me."
"You bought it in July."
"I bought it on July sixth. The Friday after the boat."
She nodded once. Like that was the right Friday.
She did not cry. She did the thing where her eyes shone for one second and then she blinked twice and the shining was decided against.
"Put it on me."
He took it out of the box. Took her left hand. Slid it on. It went on at the second knuckle without resistance.
"It fits."
"I had a guess from your old bracelet."
"From — Vincent."
"I measured the inside of the bracelet. I had the jeweler size it down two."
"You measured my bracelet."
"You leave the silver one on the kitchen counter when you cook."
She laughed.
She put both hands on his face.
She kissed him.
It was a long kiss. It was a private kiss. There was no one to see it. The hotel was full of people who did not know either of them. The bag of taffy was on the dresser. The pearls were on the dresser. The earrings she had not picked yet were on the dresser. The red dress was on the hanger.
She pulled back.
"Vincent. Yes."
"Yes."
"Now help me with the zipper on this thing or we're not eating."
"That is the least romantic thing anyone has ever said sixty seconds after a proposal."
"Vincent."
"Yes."
"I'm going to be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said sixty seconds after the proposal at one o'clock in the morning. Right now I need the zipper."
"All right."
He zipped the dress.
They went down to the hotel restaurant for the second dinner of the night which was the one they had reservations for and they ate slowly. Elena kept the ring hand on the table where she could see it. She did not look at it constantly. She looked at it three times the way a person looks at a thing they want to know is still there. The third time she did it she laughed at herself and Vinnie said you can look at it, and she said I know, Vincent, and she did, and then she put the hand down.
At eleven thirty they took the elevator to seven and the stairs to eight and they put music on the small radio on the dresser and they did the thing the outline had told them about each other from the beginning, which was that they were two adults who had had to wait for everything they wanted, and they danced in the suite to a song from before either of them had been born and they kept dancing through the song after that and Vinnie's bad lower back found a place where it would be still for fifteen minutes and Elena's heel found a place on the carpet where it did not snag and they were quiet.
At midnight he carried her to the balcony.
The fireworks were over the Showboat first, then over the Trump, then over the ocean from a barge they had not known was there.
"This time next year, Elena."
"Don't."
"I'm not promising — "
"I know what you're not promising. I'm telling you don't say it. Just hold."
He held.
The fireworks ended at twelve-twenty.
He carried her back inside.
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