Dating Kosher (25 page)

Nate reassured her. “Don’t worry, Caro, Bev is the best, you’re definitely in good hands.”

I smiled at Nate’s sister as she walked past my desk, feeling bad that I had assumed she was in the wrong place.

“She’s a little nervous,” Nate said, still looking after his sister. “She’s never been to a spa before. She’s not the type to do stuff for herself.”

It was hard to imagine
any
woman not having been to a spa in her entire life. “Nice of you to bring her,” I said.

“Okay, so let’s go. I’m starving.”

“I never said I’d go for lunch with you.” I looked at Nate and cocked my head. “Do I have a choice?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Giving him a pretend dirty look, I picked up my phone and dialed the extension for the staff room. “Hi Rita, is it okay if I go for lunch now?”

“Sure Shosh, I’ll be right up to cover the desk.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“I just have to wait for Rita,” I said, one millisecond before my boss arrived to relieve me of my post.

“Oh, hello,” she said to Nate, recognizing him. She sat down in my chair and promptly asked him how he was enjoying his weekly massages while I dug in my desk for my purse.

“Okay, let’s go,” I said, ignoring Rita’s wide-eyed looks. I sighed as I pushed open the door, knowing I was going to have to spill all when I got back from my lunch.

I took a deep breath, drinking in the warm early fall air. “So where are you taking me?”

“What do you feel like?”

“Well, it’s not really what I feel like as much as I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Deli?”

What full-blooded Jewish girl could pass up a corned beef on rye with a dill on the side? “Sounds good, there’s one around the corner.”

As we walked down the block, me in my designer spa uniform (that actually looked like a Chanel suit) and Manolo Blahniks (thank you, Daddy), he in his standard-issue navy work clothes, I noticed a woman walking toward us. It was too late to cross the street to avoid her when I realized I knew her. Worse than that: she was a client at the spa and knew both me
and
my mother. Desperate, I pushed my sunglasses closer to my face and dropped my head slightly so my hair would cover my face. I turned to Nate, hoping if I started up a conversation, I wouldn’t be noticed. “So thanks for the goodies for Armani.”

“You’re welcome. How’s he doing?”

“Shoshanna?”

Damn, my distraction tactics didn’t work.

I pulled my sunglasses down slightly. “Mrs. Katz?”

“How are you, darling?” the fifties-something woman looked stunning, likely thanks to Captain Botox.

“I’m great, Mrs. Katz. How about you?” I moved in front of Nate, trying to angle for a clean getaway and avoid introducing him at the same time.

“I’m good. Just going in for a tan to get ready for Europe next week. And your mother?”

“She’s good, Mrs. Katz, very busy as usual. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to run. It was nice to see you.”

Mrs. Katz looked up at Nate and then back to me, her eyes begging the obvious question. I ignored it, playing dumb. “Bye,” I said turning my back on her and walking away as quickly as I could in the heels.

“Thanks for the introduction,” Nate said once we were out of earshot.

I waved him off. “She wasn’t worth introducing you to, she’s just a friend of my mom’s. She’s a busybody, no point starting rumors.”

Nate stopped walking. “Shoshanna?”

I turned and looked at him.

“Are you ashamed to be with me?”

Avoiding his gaze, I rolled my eyes. “No, it’s like I told you, she’s a busybody. I see her like once a year, she’s wasn’t worth introducing. Now can we please go, I’m short on time.”

He looked at me for a second before he took a deep breath and started walking again.

It was hard to say if he believed my excuse.

And I felt bad because he was right. I
was
ashamed though it wasn’t of him personally, but his uniform. I was starting to not even mind so much that he wasn’t Jewish, but the uniform thing, now that was hard to overlook.

The rest of the walk to the deli was void of conversation, and from his silence, I got the feeling Nate wasn’t impressed with me.

Mindful of my dinner plans with my mother, knowing that recounting the wedding would necessitate more martinis than usual, I just ordered a half of a corned beef sandwich and two pickles (practically no calories in those) and a Diet Coke. I made a halfhearted attempt to pay for my own meal, but as expected, Nate waved me off, pulling bills from his surprisingly full wallet (what? You think I wouldn’t look?). “Thanks for the lunch,” I said and led him to an empty table for two toward the back, in a less conspicuous section of the restaurant.

Apparently my thanks broke the slight tension. “My pleasure, maybe next time you can pay me back by cooking me dinner.”

I almost spit out my mouthful of Diet Coke. “That wouldn’t be paying you back unless I get food poisoning from this.”

He looked disappointed.

I picked up my sandwich, gripping it tightly so as not to lose any of the loose meat. “You didn’t really think I could cook, did you?”

“Hoped maybe.” He shrugged. “What about all the Jewish delicacies? Matzo ball soup, latkes, kugel? You trying to tell me you’re not going to spoil me with great cooking?”

I swallowed the warm, juicy bite of corned beef before answering. “Hardly. Rosenblatt women are not known for their cooking. Well, at least me and my mom aren’t. My bubby—that you met at the wedding?” I waited for his nod before continuing. “She’s a great cook, but hasn’t done much since she went into the home and we stopped having big family dinners.”

Nate smiled. “Your grandmother is a great lady. I really like her.”

I couldn’t help but agree. “She liked you too,” the words were out of my mouth before I thought to hold back. I shouldn’t be leading him on, telling him members of my family liked him. “Anyway, so tell me about your sister.”

The diversion worked. Nate held up a finger as he chewed his mouthful of his double-meat roast beef sandwich. He took a sip from his can of root beer and cleared his throat before speaking. “She’s had a rough year. Her husband, my brother-in-law, was in a car accident and is in a wheelchair now.”

I almost choked on my food. “Oh my God, that’s terrible.”

Nate nodded. “He hasn’t been able to work since and they’re practically out of money. It’s amazing all the renovations they’ve had to do just to make the house accessible. I’ve done as much of the work as I can, but still, it’s been really expensive.”

He regarded his sandwich, looking like he’d suddenly lost his appetite.

“My God, Nate, that’s just awful. Your poor sister.”

Tremendous guilt forced bile into my throat. How could I have been so mean and judgmental when she’d come into the spa without knowing anything about her? Why did I have to be such a bitch all the time?

“You know what the worst part is? I can’t remember the last time I saw her smile.” He shook his head, frowning. “Anyway, she’s looking for a job. At least her kids are in school and my mom’s been helping them around the house. But it’s been hard; she’s having trouble finding something.”

“What does she do?”

“Before the kids were born, she worked as a secretary at a law firm, but she stopped working when she had her first. Steve made a good enough living that they could afford it, but… Anyway, she’s been out of the workforce for almost seven years. She’s just not up to speed anymore.”

A seed of an idea planted itself in my mind. “Um, I volunteer at a place…I don’t mean this to sound bitchy, but I noticed that she…well her clothes…” I stumbled; it was suddenly really important that I not offend him. “Well, um anyway, this place is called The Confidence Closet and we help people with interviewing clothes. If she hasn’t been in the workforce for a while, maybe she doesn’t have…”

Nate shook his head. “I’ve tried to take her shopping for clothes. I can afford to help her out, but she refuses to take my money. She wears her old clothes to interviews, but I’m sure that is part of the reason why she hasn’t gotten any bites.”

I nodded. We had a lot of clients, especially the male ones, who came to us who were reluctant to take any help. They couldn’t handle the thought of taking charity. But I had learned how to make them feel comfortable and even good about it “Can I talk to her? Maybe it wouldn’t seem so bad coming from me. I mean, what girl wants to be given a makeover by her
brother
?” I screwed up my face.

A relieved smile crept across his face and his eyes softened. “That would be nice, Shoshanna. Really nice. Thank you.”

I waved him off, suddenly feeling shy. “Consider it payment for lunch.”

He smirked. “So that’s a no on the home-cooked Jewish meal?”

“Believe me, it’s not that I wouldn’t do it, but you’d be sorry you’d eaten anything I’d cooked.”

Nate laughed out loud. “Okay, I guess I’ll take a pass on you cooking for me, then.”

“Good call.”

“So you never told me how your cat is doing.”

I gave Nate the abridged account of Armani’s surgery and post-op prognosis.

“I’m so glad he’ll be okay,” he said. “I really like cats, even if they don’t always love me.”

“Armani liked you,” I said automatically, not actually remembering if my cat had paid Nate any attention, positive or negative.

We walked back to the spa at an easy pace; I was happy to enjoy a few stolen minutes of warm sunshine, aware that the days were getting shorter and shorter.

I opened the door to the spa to be greeted by Rita’s mischievous smile. “Welcome back,” she said, getting up from my chair and disentangling my headset from her hair.

I glanced into the waiting area and stepped over to Nate’s sister who looked a tiny bit more relaxed than when she had arrived. I took the seat next to her as Nate lingered at the counter.

“Hi. I’m Shoshanna. I’m friends with your brother.”

She gave me a polite smile. “He’s mentioned you.”

I was dying to ask her
how
he had mentioned me, but fought the urge; I wasn’t here for my own purposes. “He mentioned to me that you are looking for a job. I volunteer for an organization that helps people with interviewing wardrobes.” She opened her mouth to speak, but I quickly addressed her reluctance, having expected it. “And please don’t get me wrong, these are not Goodwill-type, Grandma’s mothball-eaten clothes. These are amazing designer clothes that most people I know can’t afford even at season-end sales. I could have you looking so awesome for nothing…so what do you say?”

Caroline pursed her lips and swallowed before opening her mouth again. “Okay. That would probably help.”

I let out a breath. “Oh, I’m so glad. We’ve got some great suits in right now. What are you, about a size eight?”

She nodded.

“Great. Here, I’ll give you the number so you can give Sasha a call to make an appointment.” I got up and walked over to my desk to get an appointment card to scrawl the number on. I winked at Nate, who mouthed the words ‘thank you’ to me.

Caroline came over to retrieve the card and looked at the number. “In Brooklyn?”

“Don’t worry Caro,” Nate said. “I’ll take you. It just gives me another excuse to see Shoshanna.”

The phone rang, my cue that I should be back on the job. I adjusted my headset to take the call.

“Thanks, Shoshanna,” Caro said, the beginnings of a smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

I gave her a big smile back as I answered the phone on the third ring, still making a point of taking in the view as Nate left the spa.

* * *

Four more hours of chaos and my work day was finally over. I left the spa for the short walk to meet my mother at the sushi place.

Breathing deeply, I took in the early fall air. Still warm and moist, but having its own smell; like the leaves were giving off their last breaths before releasing themselves from the trees. Not that there were so many trees in the heavy urban area where I worked, but nonetheless, it was an enjoyable walk, providing a good transition between work and my weekly Mom duty.

She walked into the restaurant late, really late: which was totally not like her. I’d already downed two martinis in my nervous anticipation of having to recount the wedding blow by blow. Not only did the prospect make me nervous, because it made me feel like I was betraying Dad, but I also didn’t remember a whole lot; between the whirlwind of the hospital, the costume changes, the vet hospital and the numbing effects of the martinis, I was a little blurry on the day’s events.

When she did finally sashay in, with a shit-eating grin on her face, wearing a purple sweatsuit (very similar to the one she had been wearing the day of the rehearsal) I just about fell off my chair.

“Hi Shoshie,” she said, pulling her chair out from the table.

I looked her up and down. “Are you drunk?”

“What?” she plunked her purse down on the empty chair next to her. Her five hundred dollar Fendi purse to complement her twelve dollar Wal-Mart ensemble.

“The outfit? You changing your wardrobe to sweats now?”

She shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. “Oh come on, Shoshanna.”

Now I was really getting worried. Jenzo approached to take our order, forcing our conversation to stop.

She ordered us a round of drinks with the food, thankfully.

“What’s up with you?” I said when we were alone again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Shoshanna…” Mom said, her voice scolding despite the grin still pasted on her face.

“Okay, whatever.” If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn she was hammered. Or…no… gotten laid? Wait a minute: I scrutinized her face. She batted her eyelashes at me. Ew, my parents were having far too much sex. And I was hearing far too much about it. Boring conversation was definitely in order. “Don’t you want to hear about the wedding?” It was all I had.

“No, it’s okay, I’ve already heard all about it. And by the way, Shoshanna,” she clucked, scowling at me. “It’s very unladylike to sleep on the table at your father’s wedding.”

I suddenly choked trying to keep from spraying my mouthful of martini across the table and onto my mother. Grabbing the water glass, I coughed several times before taking a sip.