Jackie's Girl by Kathy McKeon

Author:Kathy McKeon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books

Wedding or no, I still yearned to nest. I was desperate to set down stakes on that “real” life I imagined building for myself. Bridey was itchy to escape Kennedy-land once in a while, too, devoted as she was to Jean Kennedy Smith’s two little boys, William and Stephen. We decided to look for an apartment to share. We soon found a one-bedroom flat on East Eighty-first Street just a couple of blocks from the river, making the mayor one of our new neighbors. The beautiful park surrounding Gracie Mansion became a favorite spot for me to get some sun and daydream when I had a free afternoon.

Our apartment was a tiny fifth-floor walkup with a water closet. There was no shower, just a bathtub in the kitchen, but we didn’t mind brushing our teeth in the kitchen sink. We didn’t plan to live there full-time, anyway. All we wanted was a cozy place to relax and have friends over when we could. I would still sleep at 1040 during my workweek for convenience’s sake, and Bridey, as governess, had to spend the night at Mrs. Smith’s as long as she was on duty. We split our $75 monthly rent down the middle, and when Briege began hanging out so much that we threatened to charge her, she ponied up for the utilities instead.

Briege also came in handy with the used sewing machine she had bought, whipping out kitchen curtains and a tablecloth from cheap fabric we got at Woolworth’s. I dug into my savings to buy a double bed for the bedroom, and Bridey provided a couch for the living area. We slapped a piece of plywood over the bathtub and it became our table. Friends would come over to play Parcheesi or 25, Ireland’s national card game. Like bridge, 25 involves lots of rules and lots of math. We would toast pieces of pita bread and butter them to snack on over endless mugs of tea.

I didn’t breathe a word to Madam about getting my own place, and Bridey kept the apartment a secret from Mrs. Smith, too. The whole point of having it was so they couldn’t find us.

Fall and winter with Madam were always filled with lots of little trips. We might have Thanksgiving with Madam’s mother at the Auchincloss estate in Newport, Rhode Island, where I tasted my first roasted chestnut and thought I’d died and gone to heaven, or head off to Colorado for a family-reunion ski vacation while the kids were on Christmas break. Madam took me to Bloomingdale’s and bought me a thick Irish sweater, a puffy black parka, plus matching pants, gloves, scarf, and boots.

Aspen was like no place I could ever have even imagined, as close to an exact opposite of Ireland as could be with its fields of deep white snow, towering Rocky Mountains, and jet-set image. Setting out with our Secret Service detail that first morning in my new winter outfit, I quickly discovered that I was no ski bunny.

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