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ruined.”
    Oscar continued. “Not only born there. I spent a good part of my working life there, too.”
    I jumped in. “Oscar, I don’t remember you ever saying. What did you do for a living up north? Drive a bus, maybe, or a cab?”
    â€œNothing so boring. Oh, not that driving you nice ladies is in any way boring. Accept my apologies. It’s that I was younger in my Jersey days, and I craved action. Headed for the bright lights.”
    â€œBroadway?” Bridgy asked.
    â€œNo, princess, the real bright lights. Atlantic City. Once the casinos opened, I knew that was where I had to be.”
    Happy to have the conversation off Edison and onto anything else, I decided to push Oscar further into his past. “What did you do in Atlantic City?”
    A broad smile, steeped in memory, crossed his face. “I started as a busboy at the Brighton. Real classy place. Always treated their staff well. While I was going to schoolthey let me work around my classes. Even promoted me to waiter. I can’t say nothing bad about the Brighton. ’Course when I was done with my schooling they had no room for me as a croupier, so I had to move along.”
    Ophie was visibly impressed. “A croupier? Not a dealer? And you expertly wielded one of those long sticks? What are they called?”
    Oscar beamed. He had the rapt attention of everyone in the van, including me. “Stick works, although some folks call it a rake. We used it to ‘rake’ in the money. Dice and chips, too. You don’t strike me as a gambler, but you sure could be the fancy lady on a high roller’s arm.”
    Ophie flushed with pleasure. “Whenever we went on a cruise, my first husband, Mr. McLennon, enjoyed a turn around the casino floor, as you say, with me on his arm. We both liked the atmosphere, but he wasn’t what I’d call a gambler.”
    Angeline Drefke nearly shouted, “You have no idea how lucky you are, Ophie. I come from Johnsonburg, Pennsylvania, out past the Appalachians. Right by Allegheny National Forest.” She paused for a few seconds so we could each check the GPS she imagined was implanted in our brains. Then she continued. “We went to Atlantic City, and my first husband became a torment and stayed a torment ’til I finally tossed him right out the door with the clothes on his back and the change in his pocket.”
    She looked around with such fierce pride in her eyes, I almost blurted out, “Atta girl,” but thought better of it. Just as well. Angeline was far from finished.
    â€œThat first trip he told me would be a vacation at the beach. He said maybe we’d take a peek at a casino. We left home early, took our time, stopped for lunch at Hershey andgot to the hotel by dinnertime. Our last happy meal. That night we went to the casino at Resorts, and, to my horror, I quickly found out he loved the tables more than he ever loved me.
    â€œNext thing I knew we were going to Atlantic City every chance we had. It’s at least a six-hour drive, but he put the pedal to the metal. Not so much as a bathroom stop, much less a leisurely trip. He often had us there in under five and a half hours. Couldn’t care less about my safety or comfort.”
    Except for Oscar, who was focused on the traffic ahead, which had slowed down to a crawl, everyone in the van seemed to be holding her breath. I know I was.
    Angeline’s voice cracked. “Looking back I’m amazed he didn’t total the car and us with it.”
    Tammy reached over, rested her hand on Angeline’s shoulder and said, “Thank goodness that didn’t happen.” She hesitated, then asked, “Where was he getting the money to play?”
    Angeline reached up and patted Tammy’s hand. “When I asked about the money, he’d tell me that he won more than he lost, but . . . I knew that wasn’t true. When I started gathering papers to file for