Last Summer at the Golden Hotel Read online

  Praise for The Floating Feldmans

  “When Annette Feldman decides to celebrate her seventieth birthday with a family cruise, drama—and hilarity—ensue.”

  —People

  “Family reunions can rock the boat. This one does it on a cruise ship. When the Feldmans hit the high seas for their matriarch’s seventieth, a lot of drama and laughs come out in tight quarters. Think This Is Where I Leave You meets The Family Stone.”

  —theSkimm

  “The Floating Feldmans is a hilarious romp on the sea that is perfect for your poolside reading this summer! I read this book with a wide grin, and I know that you will too! Highly recommend!”

  —Catherine McKenzie, bestselling author of I’ll Never Tell and Spin

  “Friedland uses multiple perspectives, witty dialogue, and complex characters that are incredibly relatable to deliver a funny, astute look at the family dynamic and the relationships shared within. Whether on a cruise or taking a staycation, contemporary readers will want to have The Floating Feldmans on deck.”

  —Booklist

  “The Floating Feldmans is a fast, funny, surprisingly heartwarming ride on the high seas.”

  —Shelf Awareness

  “Friedland creates vivid characters with distinct voices, from the outwardly critical matriarch to the insecure teenager. . . . A fun look at family drama on the open seas.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “The Floating Feldmans is a story about an estranged family’s wild vacation. This book is so dramatic that it might actually make your fam feel normal . . . even if you’re losing your mind on day five of your own trip.”

  —Cosmopolitan

  “Long a master of insightful books about modern life and relationships, Friedland turns her formidable talents to the family cruise. Uproariously funny, yet heartfelt and true, The Floating Feldmans will have each reader seeing her own family fun and foibles in the choppy waters, laughing and crying at the same time to the very last wonderful page.”

  —Pam Jenoff, New York Times bestselling author of The Lost Girls of Paris

  “An intelligent, insightful, touching novel about the secrets we keep and the family that loves us anyway.”

  —Abbi Waxman, author of The Bookish Life of Nina Hill

  “Elyssa Friedland’s premise is perfect. Take three generations of an estranged family, put them on a boat—a forced cruise to celebrate the matriarch’s seventieth birthday—and let the dysfunction fly. A pleasure to read.”

  —Laurie Gelman, author of Class Mom

  “Such a smart, honest look at the modern American family. Elyssa Friedland has written a book that feels both up-to-the-minute contemporary and, somehow, absolutely timeless.”

  —Matthew Norman, author of We’re All Damaged and Domestic Violets

  “All aboard! The Floating Feldmans is for everyone who’s ever thought their family is absolutely crazy . . . but loves them anyway. Sibling rivalries and skeletons in the closet all come to a head in this fun, quirky family saga.”

  —Georgia Clark, author of The Bucket List

  “The Floating Feldmans was a blast: funny, moving, and immensely readable. Friedland’s all-you-can-eat buffet of quirky characters walks right off the page and into your heart.”

  —Jonathan Evison, author of This Is Your Life, Harriet Chance!

  “Take a big, dysfunctional family, reunite them for the first time in ten years on a Caribbean cruise ship they can’t escape, and add endless buffets, blindfolded pie-eating contests, and impromptu conga lines on the sundeck. What could possibly go wrong? Both cruising fans and skeptics alike will get a laugh out of this story of a family trying to stay afloat.”

  —National Geographic

  “Friedland’s well-executed and smartly structured novel features chapters from each character’s point of view. The simple but clever premise lets the author explore the complicated tensions of family relationships in a compressed and directed way . . . there is dry humor and a certain sweetness as well.”

  —Library Journal

  Praise for The Intermission

  “The snappy dialogue makes this an effortless page-turner, almost a movie treatment more than a novel . . . intelligent commercial fiction.”

  —The Wall Street Journal

  “The Intermission is a thoughtful look at the complexities of marriage, delivering deep truths about how we share a life with another person. It will have you wondering: How well do I really know my spouse?”

  —PopSugar

  “A multifaceted look at the difficulties and rewards of marriage.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Entertaining marriage saga. . . . Friedland insightfully dissects motives, lies, and love in this engrossing deconstruction of a bad marriage.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Expertly paced and eerily realistic, this novel will make readers think twice about the line between deception and mystery in any relationship.”

  —Booklist

  Titles by Elyssa Friedland

  Love and Miss Communication

  The Intermission

  The Floating Feldmans

  Last Summer at the Golden Hotel

  BERKLEY

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  penguinrandomhouse.com

  Copyright © 2021 by Elyssa Friedland

  Readers Guide copyright © 2021 by Elyssa Friedland

  Excerpt from Most Likely copyright © 2021 by Elyssa Friedland

  Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

  BERKLEY and the BERKLEY & B colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Friedland, Elyssa, author.

  Title: Last summer at the golden hotel / Elyssa Friedland.

  Description: First edition. | New York: Berkley, 2021.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2020046445 (print) | LCCN 2020046446 (ebook) | ISBN 9780593199725 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9780593199732 (ebook)

  Classification: LCC PS3606.R55522 L37 2021 (print) | LCC PS3606.R55522 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020046445

  LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020046446

  First Edition: May 2021

  Cover design and illustration by Adam Auerbach

  Book design by Elke Sigal, adapted for ebook by Kelly Brennan

  Map illustration by Muriel Smith

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  pid_prh_5.7.0_c0_r0

  For Jason, who loved a good joke

  Contents

  Cover

  Praise for Elyssa Friedland

  Titles by Elyssa Friedland

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  The Goldman Family Tree

  The Weingold Family Tree


  The Golden Hotel

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Readers Guide

  Excerpt from Most Likely

  About the Author

  “It’s not the changes so much this time. It’s that it all seems to be ending. You think kids want to come with their parents and take foxtrot lessons? Trips to Europe, that’s what the kids want. Twenty-two countries in three days. It feels like it’s all slipping away.”

  —Max Kellerman, Dirty Dancing

  “Everything old is new again.”

  —Peter Allen

  Prologue

  Windsor, New York, 1981

  As was tradition, Louise Goldman took the stage after the appetizer course was served at the final banquet dinner of the summer at the Golden Hotel. Her dress, beaded, formfitting, and floor-length—always a gown for the last night—dazzled as she mounted the steps and walked slowly toward the podium. The crowd of four hundred looked at her from their round tables, upon which white-jacketed waiters were setting down heaping portions of steaming brisket, dimpled mashed potatoes, and braised carrots. Goblets of thick, glistening gravy were placed alongside the meat in silver vessels, and waiters who dripped on the white cloths would escape rebuke that night, but only because it was the last night of the summer, and tips were already sealed into tidy envelopes. Such was the joy of closing out a successful season at the Golden Hotel that even Marty, the captain of the dining room, who kept watch over his “boys” like a general in a foxhole, would let things slide. How could anyone not feel at ease in the warm, wood-paneled dining room of the Golden Hotel, which played summer palace to so many returning guests year after year? The place was steeped in tradition and memories, each room a waffle of nooks and crannies that meant something different, but of equal sentimental value, to everyone who paid a visit.

  From her perch behind the microphone, Louise watched her family. They were seated at the traditional “owners’ table.” Louise’s daughter, Aimee, a cherub of a twelve-year-old, full-cheeked with a pink complexion, was seated next to Peter Weingold, and next to Peter, his twin, Brian, who was hitting his brother repeatedly with a slap bracelet. Rounding out the table were Amos and Fanny Weingold, partners to the Goldmans and parents of the twin boys. Amos had been best friends with Louise’s husband, Benny, since they were old enough to sit alone on the stoop of their adjacent Lower East Side brownstones. “You play jacks?” Benny had asked Amos. Amos had said yes, and from that point on, they were inseparable. They went to Brooklyn College together, drove cross-country together, worried their mothers together, and—eventually—opened the Golden Hotel together. What if Amos hadn’t liked jacks? Louise sometimes shuddered when she considered that affinity could have dictated the course of a life.

  “Hello, dear friends,” Louise purred into the microphone. She knew just how to make her voice sultry without sounding salacious—the trick was to pull from the lungs, not the throat. A few hundred heads murmured hello back, ready to delight in her song. “I can’t thank you enough for helping to make this perhaps our most memorable summer ever at the Golden Hotel.”

  Louise said that same line every year, but guests happily absorbed the compliment anyway, even the repeat customers, who must have heard her say it at least a dozen times by now. But maybe the line was true. Maybe the Golden Hotel was like a cabernet stored in oak, improving with age, every additional summer layering the place with more character and depth. She tried not to think about the fact that for the first time in longer than she could recall, the hotel was not at capacity for Labor Day weekend. Close to, but not at full occupancy. Benny had started to tell her the specific numbers, but she’d told him a hairdresser appointment beckoned. Louise had wanted to stop by Roberta’s on the lower level to have her raven locks teased before dinner. With any luck, Janet, the hotel’s resident makeup artist, would also be available to touch up her makeup. Janet knew the best colors to bring out the green and gold specks in Louise’s hazel eyes; she’d trained at the Chanel counter in Lord & Taylor. Besides, Louise didn’t want to hear upsetting news, not when the final banquet was hours away. She had never been able to handle disappointment well.

  “I can’t remember a more exciting Gold Rush than we saw today—congrats, Rosenblum family; you certainly earned your place in history.” Louise gestured to the plaque on the eastern wall of the ballroom, where winners of the annual obstacle course competition held on the last day of summer merited a spot of honor. “I just wish you hadn’t had to push the Friedmans into Lake Winetka to clinch your victory.”

  Polite laughter from around the room. Benny flashed a thumbs-up. Fanny wasn’t paying attention. She was trying to keep her teenage boys in order, especially Brian, who seemed to be the cause of most of Fanny’s gray hairs. Why didn’t she color them, like Louise did? The Golden Hotel had a fine hairdresser on premises, a Frenchman they’d stolen away for the summer from a Manhattan salon. And why did Fanny have to wear that awful dress on such a festive evening? It wasn’t even floor-length. And it was a sallow beige, the color of Aimee’s cheeks when she was under the weather. The guests could go and upend the formality that made the Golden Hotel special, but the relaxing of the dress code shouldn’t come from the owners. She’d just heard that Brown’s had done away with jackets for the men on Friday nights. And Grossinger’s was allowing bathing suits at the breakfast buffet. Louise planned to speak to Benny about it tonight. He listened to her best when she put on her silk nightgown and rubbed his back.

  From the stage, Louise watched Amos and Benny chatting animatedly. Their unblemished friendship over so many years was a marvel. If only she and Fanny could click the way their husbands did. Aimee was busy staring at Brian Weingold instead of watching her mother, and Peter Weingold was staring at Aimee. It was a love triangle that would concern Louise if the kids were a little older. For now, she’d just keep an eye out. Her daughter wasn’t going to become a Weingold. Not with Louise the doyenne of a luxury resort that hosted the finest families from Long Island, New York City, and New Jersey; no doubt highly eligible sons would be presented to Louise and Benny on silver platters in due course. Aimee was pretty and bright, with clear blue eyes that didn’t come from her or Benny. Perhaps a recessive gene. Perhaps . . . well, there no sense thinking about that now. The point was, Aimee would have her pick of suitors. The lone child of the Goldman family needed a suitable mate, and that person wasn’t going to come from the owners’ table.

  “I know how excited everyone is to dig into their last supper—I know, we’re Jews, but we can have a last supper, too.” More laughter. How those giggles sustained Louise. Echoes of them rippled in her ears all the way through to November. “And of course, you’re all looking forward to the fireworks. So without further ado, let me bring out our master of ceremonies, Alfie DeBruce, who will accompany my
song on guitar. After, Jimmy Jones and the FreshTones will take over, and we invite everyone onto the dance floor.” For the final evening of summer, staff pushed the tables to the perimeter and laid down a temporary parquet floor for fox-trotters and waltzers to swarm.

  An elderly man in a full white tux and tails came from behind a red curtain to join Louise and saluted the audience. He struck the opening chord on his guitar, and Louise led the crowd in the Golden Hotel’s anthem. In 1965, when the hotel had seen its fifth consecutive year of growth, Benny and Amos had commissioned a famous songwriter to write a ballad about the hotel, extolling its virtues. The songwriter was contractually obligated to mention the magnificent lake, warm vibe, breadth of activities, and of course, the scrumptious and abundant food. His fee was astronomical—but a newly married Benny was persuaded by his bride, who knew a lot about business from her father. Louise Goldman, née Frankfurter, was from one of the wealthiest Jewish families in Montreal. Originally from Paris, the Frankfurters had made their way to Montreal in the 1930s when they sensed the political winds shifting. Her father had made a fortune in fur, then lost a fortune gambling, but in between, Louise had picked up scores of business acumen. She knew you had to spend money to make money. Fast-forward several decades, and the anthem of the Golden Hotel was a lullaby parents sang to their children months after decamping to the city, where instead of songbirds providing backup, truck horns blared and subways rattled by.

  As usual, Louise ended the song with an a cappella solo, the crowd knowing when to quiet down and let the mistress of the hotel have the final word. There were only so many years left that she could do this—already she could see Aimee shifting uncomfortably. Her daughter would soon be a teenager, when nothing Louise could say or do would be right, and certainly coming on stage to lead a crowd in song would be on the no-no list. Louise intended to embrace the tradition while she could. The crowd rose to its feet in enthusiastic applause when she concluded, and Louise made a swooping curtsy and kissed Alfie on both cheeks.