BACK IN AMERICA WITH Julian at Yale and Amy now at school in Switzerland, Sylvia hoped they could sustain some of the joy they had experienced in Rome, but although Martin tried to fulfill her expectations, life settled down to the old routine. They went out, they entertained, Martin worked even longer hours in the office. Despite his best resolutions his fiftieth birthday when it came depressed him greatly. Sylvia gave him a party and he found himself inexplicably angry with her. How could she celebrate middle age?
But like it or not, time passed. His mother was in her seventies, in the best of health. Amy came home from Davos with the profound announcement that after graduation she was marrying the tennis pro she had met in Monte Carlo. For once Martin put his foot down. No more tennis pro, no more Switzerland, no more Europe. That September Amy was packed off to Wellesley, relieved if anything that the romance had been ended, though she would not give her father the satisfaction of saying so.
Martin himself was probably more upset than his daughter. He remembered the pain of his separation from Jenny, but consoled himself by saying that eighteen wasn’t twenty-eight and that a tennis pro was hardly good husband material.
He was less lucky dealing with Julian’s choice of mate. Julian had been graduated from Yale with honors and been accepted by their law school when he called home to say that he was engaged to a Sarah Storey. He brought her home over the summer to visit. She was very elegant, very Vassar, very Episcopalian, and very Beacon Hill. To Bess’s dismay she had made it clear that her parents had forgiven Julian for the bad taste of being born a Jew and were very grateful that somewhere along the line one of his ancestors had had the good sense to change the family name of Rothenberger to Roth.
Bess moaned in private, but Martin and Sylvia consoled themselves that under the Old Boston veneer the girl seemed smart and friendly and very much in love with Julian, which in Sylvia’s eyes made up for a multitude of sins.
The wedding itself was an elaborate affair in the garden in the center of Louisburg Square. It was a strain on all of the Roths. The minister, a thin, disagreeable young man, made no concessions for the Jewish bridegroom, and Martin stood watching the pretty blond bridesmaids troop into the garden, wondering what his father would have said if he were alive. Was it worth it, Martin thought suddenly, giving up Jenny, always doing the right thing? His son had cast away all traces of his religion to marry this pretty, slender gentile with her New England ways. For a moment the pain in his heart was more than he could bear. His eyes flickered to Amy, who was looking ravishing as the maid of honor. Who knew whom she would want to run off with next? They had saved her at eighteen, but would they be able to forestall a misalliance at twenty? Martin sighed. What good had his toeing the family line of tradition and heritage done? For the first time he felt old, without hope.
When the Roths returned home after that curious wedding it was with heavy hearts. Amy had cheerfully returned to college, and Bess declared she needed a week’s rest after all the traveling, leaving Sylvia alone to face Martin’s gloomy looks across the breakfast table. To see him so withdrawn was almost more than she could bear. It wasn’t only the wedding, she knew that. He seemed to be fighting the years, unwilling to sit back and enjoy this time alone together. The truth was they had a lot to be grateful for. Amy was doing well at Wellesley and Julian certainly worked hard and seemed responsible. If anything, his new in-laws had made him a little stuffy. Sylvia found herself annoyed with Martin. There was no reason for him to be so gloomy.
That night when Martin sat down to dinner she said, “I think it would be so good to get away together. Just the two of us. No parents, no friends. Would you like that?”
Would he like that? Well, after the tensions of the past weeks it might help. “Okay, let’s go up to the Lake tomorrow.”
Sylvia closed her eyes. Everything was going to be all right. Wasn’t it?
The drive up to the mountains was a silent one. When they did talk all they seemed able to discuss were the children. It appeared they had lost whatever mutual interests they had shared. Well, this weekend would be a new beginning, Sylvia resolved.
Moving closer to Martin, Sylvia took hold of his right hand. This holiday was what they needed. Married people needed time alone. She hadn’t understood that well enough over the years. It had always seemed so important to do things as a family. But today she knew better. For all of her devotion, they essentially could only fix themselves. Children were selfish by definition. That’s what growing up was about. Learn to care for other people. Well, soon Julian would have children of his own. The important thing now was to cheer Martin up and save her own marriage. Hopefully this weekend in Tahoe would be a new beginning.
They did all the things they had done in the past: walked in the mountains, had drinks before the fire, rode horses down into the valley. They were kind and polite to each other, but nothing seemed to rekindle the old sense of romance. Both knew it and both were miserable.
It wasn’t anybody’s fault, Sylvia thought. Something had happened to their lives. As she got ready for bed that night she decided that the air was very chilly even for Lake Tahoe.