Murder At The Mikvah (12 page)

Lauren was startled by Sonia’s dramatic change in demeanor. She stood up quickly, not sure whether to stay or leave. She knew how it felt to be the object of eves-dropping and petty gossip, so she wanted to give Sonia some privacy, show her some decency.

Lauren motioned to Sonia to sit back down. “I’m going to see if Hannah needs a hand in the kitchen,” she whispered. Sonia now looked both miserable and confused, probably at the expression
hand in the kitchen
, but eased herself back down on the couch.

As she followed her nose to the kitchen, Lauren now wondered if she appeared insensitive by leaving Sonia so abruptly. Maybe she should she have stayed to comfort her? Well it was too late now.

“It smells so good!” she told Hannah in the kitchen. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, you are so sweet to offer,” Hannah said, untying her apron, “but everything’s ready—just keeping warm in the oven.”

“This room is so beautiful,” Lauren said, putting Sonia out of her mind. Her gaze passed over the tall cherry wood cabinets and stainless steel appliances. The countertops, now covered with empty serving plates, were Corian, specked with browns and reds. For an older home, the kitchen was quite modern, most likely having been gutted and completely remodeled. “But, if you don’t mind me asking, why do you have two sinks and two dishwashers?”

Hannah hung up her apron and motioned Lauren to the butcher-block table where they both sat down. “Are you familiar with the laws of
kashrus
?”

“Kashrus?”

Hannah shook her head. “I’m sorry. The laws of keeping kosher.”

Lauren thought for a moment, tracing her fingers along some ridges on the tabletop.

“They're rules from the Torah about what we can and cannot eat,” she said, looking up, expectantly.

“Right,” Hannah said. “For example, we only eat meat that comes from animals that have hooves and chew their cud…”

“And no shellfish,” added Lauren, suddenly recalling this long forgotten piece of information.

“Right again,” Hannah said. “No shellfish. In fact, any fish we eat must have fins and scales.”

“And the reason for doing this is health based, right?” Lauren asked.

“Actually,
no
,” Hannah said. “It’s not. Sadly, many people believe that, and they also think that because our food handling practices are more sanitary nowadays, these laws are obsolete.”

Lauren scrunched her forehead, “So if they're not health based, what exactly
is
the reason for them?”

“Well,” said Hannah, “in the Torah, there are three types of Jewish commandments:
Mishpatim, Edos,
and
Chukim.
The laws of Kashrus fall into the last category. No explicit reason is given for them. We can't assume to know God's intent, or that we're even capable of comprehending something that likely happens on a strictly spiritual level.”

“But in Mishpatim and Edos, explanations
are
given?” Lauren asked.

Hannah nodded. “Mishpatim translated means j
udgment
. Moral laws such as 'don’t steal or murder' fall into this category.”

“Oh, I see… they're for the good of humanity,” Lauren said.

“Exactly!” Hannah said, clearly impressed. “Rules for a civilized and moral society.”

“And Edos?”

“Edos means
witnesses.
Commandments falling under this category serve to remind us of God's presence. They include rituals and festivals as well as the laws involving
tefillin
and the
mezuzah
.”

“But as far as Chick…”

Hannah smiled. “Chukim… translated it means
decrees
. These are God's decrees—whether or not we understand them, we must abide by them.”

Lauren glanced at the two sinks. “Meat foods and dairy foods are kept separate, right?”

Hannah nodded. “Yes, and we have two separate sets of dishes and pots.”

Lauren thought about the idea. Even if she did ever decide to keep kosher, there was no way two sets of dishes could possibly fit in her tiny apartment kitchen.

“Not everyone has separate sinks and dishwashers though,” Hannah said. “Most people use rubber mats in the sink—one for meat, one for dairy—and they designate the dishwasher for one or the other.”

“I guess it makes it easier to have two,” Lauren said.

“Oh, yes! It’s
much
easier this way,” Hannah said, admiring her kitchen. “I didn’t always have it so easy,” she added.

“How long have you lived here?” Lauren asked.

“We bought the house about three and a half years ago,” Hannah said. “Another religious family lived here before us. They had just redone their kitchen when the husband got transferred to Baltimore.”

“That was lucky for you,” Lauren said.

Hannah smiled. “We were living in a twin on Primrose Street at the time, but were outgrowing it by the second,” She thought for a moment. “I was eight months pregnant with Yitzi. The former owners did what they could to make it work, but the house was still priced out of our range.”

“But somehow you were able to buy it?” Lauren asked. She couldn’t imagine a family as large as the Orensteins squeezing into a twin.

Hannah smiled. “Thank God for family! My mother in law—Yehuda's mother—saw it and insisted we buy it. She helped us with the down payment. Honestly, we couldn’t have done it without her.”

Lauren was surprised at Hannah's candor. Most people would be embarrassed to admit they needed financial help, but Hannah looked at it from a position of appreciation and blessing.

Hannah suddenly looked at her watch and jumped up. “Oh my, where did the time go? We have to light!” she announced, tapping her wristwatch. “I’ll get Sonia.”

Hannah returned a minute later. “It looks like it’ll just be the two of us,” she said, a bit deflated and with obvious concern in her voice. She led Lauren into a large dining room. The table was set for ten, beautifully laid out with white china and heavy flatware. In the center of the table stood a glass vase with yellow mums. A distressed wood sideboard along the furthest wall held two silver candelabras. Several shorter candlesticks stood in front.

“Would you like me to help you with the blessing?”

“Yes, It’s embarrassing to admit this, but my grandmother is orthodox, and yet I don’t know the blessing.”

“Your mom’s mother is orthodox?”

Lauren nodded. “But I haven’t seen her since I was a three or four. She and my grandfather weren’t happy when my mom married a Catholic.”

Hannah squeezed her hand. “Well, it’ll be my honor to help you with the blessing. Just repeat what I say.”

Lauren lit her candle and waited while Hannah lit six. Each one, Hannah told her, represented a member of one’s immediate family. She covered her eyes with both hands and began reciting a few words at a time.
Baruch ata Hashem Elohainu melech haolam, asher kiddshanu bemitvotav, vitzivanu, lahadlikner, shel shabbat
, which Lauren dutifully repeated.

“Shabbat Shalom!” Hannah said when they finished. Her smile lit up her entire face as she pulled Lauren toward her and gave her a warm hug.

Twenty minutes later, Yehuda returned from the evening prayer service with the four Orenstein children trailing behind. Nine-year old Rachel was impeccably dressed in a velvet blue dress, white tights and dress shoes. Her spirally brown hair was pulled into a low ponytail. David and Eli, at five and six respectively, looked practically like twins in their dark suits and white shirts. Yitzi, meanwhile, looked like a typical three year old in mud stained corduroys and a blue un-tucked dress shirt. A single brown hair stuck straight up on the top of his head. Yehuda removed his suit jacket and hoisted Yitzi up into the air, revealing two mismatched shoes. “Who put your shoes on?” Yehuda admonished playfully as he tickled his son’s tummy.

Yitzi giggled. “I did it Abba!” He spoke in a funny husky voice, bracing himself for another round of tickling. “I put my own shoes on!”

The front door opened and Janine Miller, Yehuda's assistant, walked in, followed by two men Lauren immediately recognized from classes at the center. But before introductions could be made, Yehuda was ushering his guests to the table. Hannah took Sonia's hand and led her slowly to a seat next to her own. Lauren searched for her name card and discovered to her surprise that she was seated between the two men. When she looked up, Hannah was winking at her. Lauren looked away quickly before she started to laugh.
Was Hannah trying to fix her up?
But before she could give the question much thought, there was a hush in the room as each of the Orenstein children lined up in front of their father. One by one, starting with the oldest, he placed a hand on each child’s head and uttered a blessing. Little Yitzi was the last to receive his, but didn’t seem to mind in the least, as he marched back to his chair, a wide smile on his face. Yehuda then got the singing started with
Shalom Aleichem
. It was a beautiful song, but one that Lauren had never heard before, so she was relieved to pick up her prayer book and discover that the words were transliterated above the Hebrew.

“We're singing to the angels,” Rachel announced proudly after the last stanza had been sung. “The angels walk home with us from
shul
and protect us from harm.” Lauren found the idea of invisible bodyguards comforting, especially as a single woman living in a city where crime was rampant.

Following
Eishes Chayal
, a beautiful melody honoring the woman of the household, there was the blessing for the wine, the ritual washing of the hands, and lastly, the blessing over the challah—two home baked braided loaves covered by a beautiful gold-fringed cloth.

“The cover shields the challah from seeing that the wine is receiving the first blessing,” Hannah explained to her guests, as they all tasted what to Lauren was the best bread she had ever eaten. “Imagine—if we are this sensitive to the feelings of something
inanimate
… how sensitive we are—or should strive to be—with one another!”

Now that the pre-meal rituals were finished, proper introductions could be made. Howard Freed and Jonathon Bauer, the two men who had come in with Janine, acknowledged that they recognized Lauren from The Jewish Learning Center. To her embarrassment, each seemed genuinely eager to talk to her.
They must know Sonia the hottie is married,
Lauren thought. She glanced in Sonia's direction and was startled to see her downing shots of vodka, one after the other. Her mascara was smeared and she was slumped in her chair. Lauren looked away. She couldn’t handle any more drama right now. With her parents’ rejection, she had enough problems of her own. Besides, dinner was being served and she was starved. Apparently, being five months pregnant with her fifth child didn’t impede Hannah's preparation of an array of salads, chicken soup, sweet and sour brisket, garlic chicken, potato kugel, and roasted vegetables.

Lauren dug in to her food as Howard—sitting to her left—proceeded to tell her about his year in Israel, a trip encouraged by Rabbi Orenstein. He had studied at a yeshiva in Jerusalem, he said, hiked in the Negev desert, and planned to return in a few years. Lauren told Howard a bit about herself, but after a few minutes, he excused himself to use the bathroom. Lauren turned to her right where Jonathon had been waiting patiently. He was thirty-two, “not too religious”, he said, but starting to eat more kosher food. Lauren’s eyes started drooping and she discreetly glanced down at her watch. It was after 10:00 already; she was usually home in bed at this time. Jonathon droned on, sounding more and more like a talking personal ad, but she quickly perked up when he mentioned that he was a chiropractor. Her neck was tight—probably from all the back and forth she’d been doing between Howard and Jonathon. She considered asking Jonathon for some pain relief, but hesitated when it occurred to her that the request could be easily misconstrued as a come on. The last thing she wanted to do was give either of these guys even an
inkling
that she was interested.

“The poor girl must have been devastated when you left,” Howard said suddenly as he returned to the table. “You know… Penelope Wright, the president of your PR firm,” he added upon seeing her confounded expression. “That woman whose face is plastered on every billboard on 1-95? From her photo, she looks like she’d be one tough cookie to work for.”

“Oh, right… Penelope.” Lauren relaxed, sinking back into her seat. She and Howard had been talking about her old job. Just before he excused himself, she was about to tell him about her former boss; he must have assumed she meant Penelope. “Penelope’s the firm’s president, but I didn’t see her much; she was based out of the New York office. My boss was a man.” She laughed. “A very colorful character in his own right.”

“Well, I’d like to hear all about him and the story you were about to tell me… about the day you walked out.”