The Kiddush Ladies Read online

  Naomi and Esther followed her lead. Both opened their books and began following along as the rabbi read the Hebrew script. Naomi quickly turned around and showed Miriam the correct page.

  ***

  Becky

  Becky sat alone in the last row staring at the back of Miriam’s head.

  Damn woman. Clueless. She pretends to have no idea what this is about. Sure, Naomi doesn’t get it. She and her family were innocent bystanders. But Miriam knew. All those evenings she complained about being stuck home alone, claiming to have no idea where he went. Bullshit, she knew exactly where he was going. She may be a princess, but she’s not stupid. Some friend. She’s deceived me for the last thirty years. All those dinners and trips with the three families...

  Nauseating.

  Becky wanted nothing more than to throw her siddur at the back of Miriam’s head and walk out the door. Instead, she had to sit and suffer, watching the damn woman whisper to Naomi and Esther. Becky shifted the siddur to her left hand and squeezed her right. She imagined her gaze boring a hole through the back of Miriam’s head.

  Chapter 10

  Naomi

  Miriam, you’re right. Just show up at the wedding,” Naomi said. “This is all ridiculous. I bet Noah has no idea what’s going on. He’s the groom--it’s his day, not his mother’s. I’m sure he expects you to be there with the rest of your family.”

  “Excuse me, ladies,” Esther interrupted. “We have more important things to discuss now. Naomi needs to find a date for the wedding.”

  Miriam stared at Naomi’s face for a moment and tilted her neck. “You are so right, Esther. Naomi, when was the last time you had a date?”

  The new subject pissed Naomi off. “It was 1986. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Yes, I do.” Miriam removed her hat and raked her French manicured nails through her hair. “It’s time for you to start dating. Jake’s been gone for what? Three years? Four years? You’re not getting any younger, Naomi. Well, at least you’re thin now. You were much chubbier when you were married to Jake. Did you know this is the most difficult age to meet someone? The best ones are either married or starting to die off. You don’t want to be an old woman living in one of those senior high rises, chasing men the minute they finish tossing dirt into their wife’s grave.”

  “Miriam,” Esther said and launched into a string of Hebrew curse words. “Naomi is beautiful and sweet. There are many nice men who would love to meet her. Actually, there is one sitting on the other side of the mehitza today.”

  “Who’s over there?” Miriam asked, straining her chicken-neck to see over the top of the divider.

  “That’s enough both of you. Pick up your books and pay attention to the service,” Naomi barked.

  “Okay,” Esther said, flipping through the pages. “I’ll say prayers you find a man. And when I’m finished with that prayer, I’ll pray for Becky to get over this stupid temper tantrum and invite Miriam, like she should have in the first place.”

  Ezra carried the Torah through the women’s section. Once it passed, the kiddush ladies meandered into the kitchen. Naomi stood in the hallway for a moment to catch her breath. For some reason, she could not stop her heart from pounding against her rib cage.

  “Okay, what’s on the menu? And who’s sponsoring today?” Becky asked, as she glided through the doorway.

  “I am,” Esther replied. “The kiddush is to welcome the guest my husband brought today. He’s the number one candidate for the Dean of the English Department position. He’s Jewish and originally from Pittsburgh.”

  Naomi’s face flushed. She knew it was only a matter of moments before Becky demanded to know his name. Naomi waited for it to come and walked over to the coffee pot.

  “Why didn’t your husband apply for the job?” Miriam asked.

  “He didn’t want to apply. He likes teaching.” Esther’s tone and expression shot out annoyance.

  “It’s none of your damn business why he didn’t apply,” Becky shot back.

  Relief flooded over Naomi. Becky looked too pissed off to bother asking about Lewis’s guest. Naomi didn’t want it to be the topic of conversation during lunch preparations. Let the shock occur naturally, when Aaron sat down at the lunch table.

  “That’s your problem, Miriam. You always ask obnoxious questions.” Becky flicked a dollop of mayonnaise into a bowl of tuna fish. “Anyway, what part of Pittsburgh is this guy from and what’s his name?”

  “Well, he grew up in Squirrel Hill. His mother is ill, and his father passed away years ago. He wants to move back to help her. He’s divorced. His son studies robotics at Carnegie Mellon.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Becky interrupted. “But what’s this name? Maybe I know him.”

  “Aaron Brenner,” Esther said, rolling the sound of the Rs.

  Naomi watched Becky’s eyes grow round, shock creep across her face, and the spoon fall from her hand.

  “Aaron Brenner? As in novelist, movie producer, and former boyfriend of Naomi?”

  “Yes,” Esther said. “And I’m going to convince her to invite him to be her date for Noah’s wedding.”

  Naomi concentrated on the boiled egg she was peeling. Hearing his name out loud in front of all of them made her want to cry--stupid me--standing in front of a mirror primping. The only thing he probably remembers about me is my name.

  ***

  Esther navigated the food cart through the kitchen door toward the double doors of the sanctuary. Only Laurie and Naomi remained in the kitchen.

  “I’ve been thinking all week about this wedding fiasco, and I still can’t see a way to fix it,” Laurie said.

  Naomi smiled, grateful for a distraction and a reason to stay in the kitchen.

  “Have you had any grand epiphanies on the subject?” Laurie asked.

  Naomi shook her head. “No, But Miriam told me that she’s going without an invitation.”

  “Is that a good idea?”

  “Maybe I should call Noah and ask him to send her one.”

  “I don’t understand how this could happen. Didn’t Noah and Maria create the guest list?” Laurie asked.

  “My guess is they did,” Naomi replied. “And Becky graciously offered to double check it before emailing it to the printer. Her finger hit the delete button before hitting the send button.”

  Laurie nodded and picked up two pitchers of water. “Grab the other two, Naomi,” she said, as she left the kitchen.

  Naomi didn’t want to leave the kitchen. It had been twenty-some years since she wrote that letter, but suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a long time. “Stop it,” she said out loud then picked up the pitchers and walked into the sanctuary.

  She recognized him from behind--something about his stance, and the way his hair curled above his shirt. He stood between Lewis and Becky. Based on the way Becky’s hands flew in front of her face, it was obvious she was doing all the talking.

  Naomi set the first pitcher in front of the rabbi and then walked toward the kid’s table. As she placed the second pitcher in front of the rabbi’s fourth child, she heard her name. Chills pricked up the skin on her arms. Her throat dried.

  “Hello, Aaron,” she said. He looked amazing. Still handsome, eyes as blue as the Caribbean water. His former silky black curls now contained a sprinkling of silver. His smile turned her knees to jelly. “How are you?” she asked.

  “I’m great, and if we weren’t in an orthodox synagogue, I’d give you a big hug. You look amazing.”

  He really did appear to be happy to see her. This made it even more awkward. It would have been easier if he didn’t remember her at all. A blush heated her face. “You do, too.” As she spoke the words, her tongue grew five times larger. “I was surprised to hear you’re thinking about moving back. Pittsburgh seems a bit provincial for someone like you.”

  He cocked his head sideways. ‘What do mean by ‘someone like you’?”

  First sentence and something stupid came out. “I’m sorry,” she c
hoked. “I mean, you’re so successful. I’ve seen you on TV, the books, and the movie. You’re a big shot now.”

  He laughed. His eyes matched the smile on his face. “Ah, Naomi,” he said, squeezing her in a hug. “Synagogue or no synagogue.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and inhaled the earthy scent of his cologne. What really shocked her was the overwhelming desire to kiss his neck.

  After releasing her, their eyes met. “For years,” he said, “I wanted to pick up the phone and call you--just to say hello and to see if you were happy.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Now, it was his turn to blush. “Chicken. I didn’t think you would want to talk to me. Then, I was afraid your husband would answer the phone and what would I say to him? ‘Hello, I’m Aaron. Your wife dumped me for you’? I couldn’t do it, so all the news about your life reached me via my mother. She heard things through what I call the Yenta Network.”

  Naomi smiled, but her mind jumped from thought to thought. She never imagined their break-up would be mentioned in the conversation today. In fact, in all the scenarios she anticipated, he barely remembered her, or the awful letter she wrote to him. And his mother reporting information to him? Had she just volunteered it, or did he actually ask about her?

  The silence extended a heartbeat too long. It was Naomi’s turn to speak.

  “Same here, outside of the stuff in the newspapers, I would occasionally hear something about you through the ‘Yenta Network.’ After you released your last novel, I heard your NPR interview,” she said.

  “Aaron, Naomi,” Miriam said, a bit too loud. “Come and eat, or all the food will be gone.”

  Aaron made a slight bend at the hips and swished his arm forward. “After you.”

  The table was packed with people already eating. At the end of the table, Becky saved her normal seat, but Naomi didn’t know if she should sit with her friends or sit by Aaron.

  “Aaron,” Lewis said, standing and signaling. “I saved you a spot.”

  Aaron gave her an awkward shrug of the shoulders. His expression sent her back to another time, and she caught a glimpse of the young man she’d loved.

  “Go, Aaron. We can catch up later,” she said.

  ***

  People stayed longer than usual, excited to have someone famous sitting at the table. As the clock hands approached three, only the small group who knew Aaron since childhood remained. Miriam monopolized the conversation, rehashing tales from high school, so Becky and Naomi started bussing the table.

  “Look at her--sitting and yakking like there’s no work to do here. I’m not putting her plate in the trashcan. She can do it herself for once,” Becky griped.

  Naomi dumped a leftover bowl of egg salad into the trash. “Enough, stop complaining about Miriam.” She looked at Becky. Maybe it was having Aaron in the building, but suddenly, Naomi felt very sentimental. “Come on, Becky. Me, you, and Miriam, we’re closer than family. I don’t need to remind you of our history. Hell, our childhoods completely intertwined. Your mother yelled at me. My mother fed Miriam, and Miriam’s mom did the alteration on every special outfit we ever bought. Remember, your prom gown?”

  Becky made a humpf noise.

  “Fighting with Miriam is like fighting with your sister or cousin--let it go. So what if she sent the Rebbetzin a meal. It’s over.”

  Becky stopped washing the bowls and the serving utensils. “Do you think that’s why I’m angry at her? You seriously believe I’m not inviting her to the wedding because she’s useless in a kitchen?”

  “Yes,” Naomi said, shrugging. “Am I wrong?”

  Tears leaked from the corners of Becky’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

  Naomi froze. Where was this coming from? “Becky, I’m sorry. If it’s not the baby fiasco, what is it?”

  “Family, like family,” Becky mumbled, slapping her hands against a dry tea towel with the word ‘meat,’ printed on it.”

  “Please, could you explain to me what’s going on?” Naomi pleaded.

  Rather than answering, Becky darted from the kitchen. Naomi stood, hands-on hips, staring at the swinging kitchen door. Rather than following her, she stalled for a moment, filling a cup of water before walking back into the sanctuary, frustrated, by her inability to think of any other reason for this war.

  Naomi scanned the lunch table. Becky wasn’t sitting beside her husband, and her spot at the end of the table with their group of friends was empty. Laurie pointed out the window. Through frost-rimmed plate glass, Naomi watched the back of Becky’s lowered head and mink coat move farther and farther away from the synagogue. Becky pulled a crumpled tissue from her coat pocket before climbing into the driver’s seat.

  “Naomi,” Esther called.

  Naomi joined the group surrounding Aaron.

  “Aaron is staying in Pittsburgh for a while--to spend time with his mother.” Ulterior motive saturated Esther’s voice.

  Naomi smiled and did a slight eye roll--enough to get her point across to Esther. If Naomi so much as uttered the word “really,” it would be used to further Esther’s busybody mission. In her matchmaking mind, getting the two of them in the same room accomplished the first step toward the achievement her long-term goal--Naomi’s wedding.

  “I may have to fly to New York for a few days,” Aaron said, “but I plan to spend most of the summer here. My son enrolled in summer classes, and well, my mother is getting older.”

  “Wonderful,” Esther said, clapping her hands. “You will come to our house for Shabbat next Friday and bring your mother and son,” Esther said. “Naomi, won’t it be fun having new people join us.”

  Nice play, Esther, Naomi silently conceded. But, sitting together for a Shabbat dinner doesn’t mean he wants to go to a wedding with me. It was time to tell Esther about Aaron’s ex-wife--a former fashion model.

  “Hey, Mom. Sarah and I are walking back to our house. Are you coming?”

  “Sure, let me get my hat from the kitchen,” Naomi said.

  She picked up the half empty Crown Royal bottle from the table and walked back to the kitchen. She put the whiskey into the refrigerator and walked to the wide marble window sill to retrieve her hat. When she turned around, Aaron stood in the doorway, watching her. When their gaze met, he dropped his chin and stuffed his hands into his pockets. Something he always did when he was nervous.

  “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight? It would be really nice to catch up. I’m tired of being with people who just want to talk about declining student enrollment and the job outlook for graduates of the English department. Are you interested?”

  She bit her bottom lip. This wasn’t a date invitation--it couldn’t be--just two old friends talking and eating. No big deal. “Sure, dinner would be great.”

  “I don’t have your number. Rabbi Morty wouldn’t be happy, catching me writing on Shabbat. So, I’ll call Lewis later and get it. He can also give me directions to your house. Does eight o’clock sound good?”

  “Sure,” she replied.

  “Great, I’ll see you in a few hours.” He did a little wave move with his hand before walking out the door.

  During the walk home, Sarah and Ezra chatted about school and the wedding. Naomi was grateful for Sarah’s presence because she didn’t have to talk. She contemplated the bigger issues of the day. Like what the hell was eating at Becky? And Aaron--a forty-nine-year-old Jewish mother had no business getting all sweaty and nervous over an old flame. Hell, this is exactly the reaction he caused me to have when I was eighteen, drooling the same way Ezra does over Sarah.

  When they got to the house, Sarah flopped onto the family room sofa; Ezra stood next to the TV, flipping through the list of movies; and Naomi walked around the kitchen, wiping away a few crumbs left over from breakfast. Then she broke two of her own rules. The first violation occurred when she unloaded the dishwasher, which was Ezra’s job.

  Next, she booted up her laptop. She avoided using the compute
r on Shabbat, but today, she wasn’t in the mood for her novel and needed something to distract her thoughts from Aaron.

  She scanned through a few celebrity gossip sites and read her horoscope, which was so generic she laughed. Out of guilt, she opened a real news site and skimmed the headlines. When the clock on the kitchen wall read five o’clock, she shut down the computer. Becky would be awake after her Shabbat snooze. Naomi picked up the phone and dialed.

  “Hello.”

  Wonderful, no voicemail, Becky actually answered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “I know, Naomi.”

  “Please, tell me what’s going on. Believe me, when I say this, Miriam has no idea why you’re angry. If she knew what was bothering you, she could either apologize or explain herself.”

  “Too late for that and no apology will ever be enough,” Becky said.

  “This is so absurd. I don’t have words for it.”

  “Naomi, I don’t want to talk about this. Miriam and I are no longer friends, nor is there an icicle’s chance in hell, we’ll ever be friends again. If there was another orthodox shul in the neighborhood, I’d go there just to avoid seeing her face every week.”

  Stunned was the only word to describe Naomi’s reaction to the poison Becky just dropped on her. “Becky, this is horrible. You can’t mean any of it.”

  “Yes, I do, and don’t ever bring it up again. Furthermore, she’s not coming to my son’s wedding.”

  The phone went dead, but a few moments passed before Naomi removed it from her ear and set it on the kitchen countertop. She yanked open the sliding glass door, walked across the deck, and leaned against the cold wooden railing, unable to comprehend Becky’s tirade.

  ***

  Becky