The Glass Wives (32 page)

“Is the table usually this big?” Nicole asked.

“I have all the leaves in. I haven’t done that in a long time, but it’s a holiday. My family and friends are here, and I just decided—why skimp when I can make lots of work for everyone?” Evie grinned, jostled the chair at the head of the table, and patted the pillow. She picked it up and pointed to the handprints scattered across the pillowcase. “Ever since the twins were little, they’ve done this at the end of the night. It was Richard’s idea.” Evie found the tiniest prints and outlined them with her index finger.

The smallness of the handprints, coupled with the grandeur of the tradition, choked her. Evie flipped the pillow from front to back to front to back to front again and plopped it onto the chair, pounding it into the seat much harder than necessary.

*   *   *

Everyone sat in the living room, so the sofa, chair, and folding chairs were filled. With several conversations and a White Sox game on TV, it was boisterous. The way it should be.

“So, this is
liver
?” Nicole said, nodding at the bowl.

“Chopped liver. Try it on a cracker,” Evie’s mother said. Shirley took a Tam Tams cracker from the basket and put a spoonful of chopped liver on top.

“It’s like pâté, dear. Have you ever had pâté?” Peg said, placing a dollop onto a small plate as if she were teaching everyone how to use a spoon.

Evie seethed. It was her holiday, her house. Any wisecracks would be hers too.

Nicole remedied the situation by ignoring her mother. “I thought you couldn’t have crackers on Passover,” she said, eyeing the small, hexagon-shaped cracker.

“It’s matzo so it’s fine.”

“But liver?”

“Trust me, it’s good. Richard loved my chopped liver.”

“Mom!” Evie stomped her foot.

“Your mother has a point, Evie,” Peg said. “If Richard liked it, Nicole should try it.”

Shirley smiled. “Thank you, Peg. I knew another mother would understand.”

Evie and Nicole had apparently been demoted and demotherized.

Nicole bit the corner of the cracker. She placed the remainder on a plate and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “It’s good.”

“You don’t have to say it’s good,” Lisa said. “I don’t eat it, and she’s
my
mother. Sometimes mothers are troublemakers.”

Nicole smiled. Evie knew her sister had just initiated a truce with Nicole.

“I’m going to tell you something, Luca my man,” Evie’s dad said. He leaned out of his chair and reached to the floor. Luca looked up at him, mouth open. “Chopped liver is good. But women?” He blew a raspberry and Luca giggled. “Smart kid.” Bob built a tower with the primary-colored blocks and handed a red one to Luca, who gently placed it on top.

Beth and Alan walked into the living room, arms full of Tupperware cake carriers filled with matzo-made goodies. Laney, Herb, Jocelyn, and Jordyn followed with foil-topped plates. Evie wanted to set the table and lead the seder and host her family and friends on a holiday, but she quaked at the expense. Everyone cooked to help with the cost and to show off a little.

“Let’s get all that in the kitchen,” Evie said. “Sam? Take their jackets, please.”

Sam stood and everyone laid their light spring outerwear over his arms. Herb put his jacket on Sam’s head like an Indian headdress, and Sam marched out of the living room and up the stairs. Sophie motioned to the girls to sit with her on the floor by Luca.

Laney and Beth followed Evie into the kitchen and placed the containers and plates on the counter. The trio swatted Alan and Herb into the living room.

“How’s it going?” Laney asked.

“I told my family to behave, and so far so good.” Evie poked up her eyebrows for a temporary lid lift. “Same goes for you.”

“What? I haven’t done anything.”

“Yet.”

Beth laughed and winked at Evie. Friends back in the fold of understanding and acceptance. Pointing at Beth, Laney tore the tops off her plates, revealing carrot
tsimmes
and potato kugel. Beth’s famous matzo-meal rolls, often mistaken for hockey pucks, were displayed in one of her favorite Longaberger baskets with a blue-and-gold-striped liner.

“Why aren’t you scolding
her
?” Laney asked.

“She’s always nice,” Evie said, basting the brisket.

Laney mimicked her, and they all laughed. Beth stared at Evie, who fixed her gaze on a baking pan sizzling with roasted vegetables.

The voices in the living room melded into white noise, an unobtrusive backdrop for cooking. Evie stirred the chicken soup and turned off the burner but didn’t turn around. If Beth was still staring at her, this wasn’t going to work. Evie counted to ten in her head and looked over her shoulder. Beth and Laney were counting Haggadahs.

“How many do we need?” Laney asked.

“Sixteen.” Evie turned to the stove and stirred, waiting.

“I think we only need fifteen,” Laney said.

“Oh, no, sixteen,” Beth said.

Evie left the spoon swirling and turned from the pot.

Laney rattled names and counted. “Fifteen. Are you counting the widow-mama twice?”

“Very funny.”

Laney licked her forefinger and gave herself a tick mark in the air. “Laney, one. Evie, zero. You only put a cup out for Elijah the Prophet, you know, not a whole place setting.”

“I know,” Evie said.

“I’m going to put a book on each chair.” Beth recounted sixteen Hagaddahs.

“What am I missing?” Laney said.

“I invited Sandy Perlman to the seder,” Evie mumbled.

“I get to meet the History Hottie? Woo-hoo!” Laney shoved Evie’s shoulder. “So it’s official? You’re dating?”

“I am not dating him. Or anyone else. He has no place to go, what was I supposed to do? Plus, he knows Alan.”

“Well, he accepted your invitation.”

“He’s just a busy man with no family here.”

“And no friends?” Laney asked.

Beth and Laney looked at each other.

“You’re kidding, right?” Laney said.

“Look, I never thought I’d invite him, but it just happened.”

“Fancy that. Doing something you never thought you’d do. Like, let’s see—
teaching college
.” Laney threw her arms in the air. Drama was never far from her reach.

“We’re proud of you,” Beth said. “For getting the job and for inviting Sandy tonight.”

“Just because I invited him to seder and can admit he’s handsome doesn’t mean I
like
him.”

“It means you’re baaaaack,” Laney said. “Although do we know if this History Honey is single? Because if he’s off-limits, this is much less fun for me, and you may just have to tap into the coed population.”

“He’s divorced.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Lane, I’m sure.” Evie was not wrestling morals with Laney with Beth in the room. “Now how about I concentrate on brisket instead of my imaginary love life?”

“If you must,” Laney said.

Evie’s mom walked into the kitchen. “Can I help?”

“We’re all set,” Evie said.

“I like you-know-who’s mother very much. Did you know she’s a college professor?”

“Yes, Mom, I know—and can you just say Nicole’s name please.”

“I agree she’s not so bad, Evelyn, and that baby is a cutie-pie. Even the mother is nice, and well-spoken, although she could do with a bit of a makeover. I guess fashion doesn’t matter much in Iowa. But are you sure you can be happy in this situation?”

“What situation?” Evie pulled her mom next to the refrigerator, hoping the hum would drown out the ridiculousness. “The situation where my kids have to grow up without a dad or the situation where I do what’s best for them—which includes you-know-who and the baby?” Evie smiled.

“You’re right,” Shirley said. “But why did you invite them to the seder?”

Evie lifted the lid on the pot and fanned the steam toward her nose for a quick chicken-soup facial. “Aren’t we supposed to let anyone who is hungry or needy come and eat? Isn’t that how we are supposed to behave on this holiday” She thought more about Sandy than Nicole.

“You’re right,” Shirley said. “But they’re—”

“It doesn’t matter that Nicole isn’t Jewish.”

“It used to matter very much.”

“That’s true,” Evie said. It was easy to dismiss Nicole as the shiksa, but the truth was, Evie hadn’t been fond of Richard’s Jewish mistresses either.

“If she was Jewish, you’d have some common ground,” Shirley said.

“We do have common ground. Our kids.” Evie wiped her hands on a towel and puttered with the soup bowls. “Nicole’s going to watch the twins when I go to work, and I’m going to take care of Luca when she works.”

“Just be careful,” Shirley said with a tsk-tsk-tsk. “People don’t change too much, you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Evie thought of Beth. And then, Evie thought of herself.

Sophie skipped into the kitchen. “When are we going to start the seder? I’m hungry.” Her declaration was answered by the doorbell.

Laney poked her head back into the kitchen. “I think Professor Preppy is here.”

*   *   *

Sandy held a box of Bartons chocolates in one hand and flowers in the other. His mother—or his ex-wife—had taught him well.

In one motion Sandy stepped into the foyer and leaned toward Evie with an unexpected hug, his arms as warm as if the heat were turned on in his car. Evie reached around him, her arms gliding on his lightly starched shirt. Sandy squeezed with gentle strength, swayed, and stopped. She patted his back and they both released their arms to their sides. Her cheeks burned. She’d blame it on a hot kitchen if anyone asked why her face matched the fuchsia horseradish set out for the gefilte fish.

“Thank you,” Evie said, gathering the flowers and the box Sandy pushed into her arms. “I just want to warn you, this is
not
going to be your ordinary family seder.”

“Good.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Ordinary’s boring.”

Sandy winked and Evie’s temperature spiked from smoldering to five-alarm blaze. She looked at the floor, and with his finger under her chin, Sandy tipped up her face, leaned down, and kissed her on the lips. The soft, quick kiss was not a cousin—
or a colleague
—kind of kiss. Sandy stepped back, smiling. “Want to introduce me to your family?”

Evie stared at him.
He wants to meet my family? After one kiss and a box of Passover candy?

“Your family
is
in the living room with your friends, right? Shouldn’t we go in so I can meet
everyone
?”

“Oh, right. Everyone. In the living room. It’s Passover. Right!”

Evie knew he enjoyed flustering her and just shook her head on the way to the living room, listening to Sandy chuckle behind her. Uncertain of her ability to mutter a coherent sentence, Evie nodded at Alan, who introduced Sandy to the crowd. Laney smiled so wide her eyes were almost closed. Herb shook Sandy’s hand. Beth hugged him. Nicole stood and shook his hand, then introduced him to Peg. She and Sandy would have a lot in common.

Not too much, Evie hoped.

She watched Sandy cup Luca’s cheek, a tender gesture unmarred by his usual wicked humor. Beth scooped Luca from Nicole’s arms and sat on the couch with him, head-to-head, chattering, motioning with their hands. Sandy and Peg stood and chatted, her arms folded, his stance more open and welcoming with his hands by his sides. Evie whispered to Sophie, who clapped twice.

Everyone stampeded into the dining room, do-si-do-ing to find his or her assigned seat. Kids interspersed with adults. Family intertwined with friends. They scooted chairs into position, unfolded napkins, and opened their Haggadahs to page one.

The commotion filled Evie’s ears almost as much as it filled her heart.

*   *   *

Nicole put a whole chocolate-chip macaroon in her mouth. “These are so good,” she mumbled.

“Use your manners, Nicki,” Peg said.

Peg should take her own advice and she should take it back to Iowa,
Evie thought.

“Oh, she’s fine. It’s the blessed season of macaroons,” Lisa said.

“Really?” Nicole asked, taking a chocolate-dipped one.

“No, hon, not really,” Shirley said.

Lisa rolled her eyes. Evie laughed, treating herself to
her
last macaroon of the evening. Or at least of the hour. She held the plate out and thrust it toward Peg, a peace offering to sweeten her up.

Peg took a plain one and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm,” she said—with her mouth full. “You were right, Nicki, these are delicious. May I have another?”

The power of macaroons.

Evie stepped back to get a better look at the innards of the dishwasher, willing it to have space for a few more plates.

“We’ll have to run two loads, maybe three,” Evie said, eyeing the counter.

“I’ll stay and help you,” Laney said, burping a Tupperware container filled with brisket.

“Me too,” Nicole said.

Sandy stood in the kitchen doorway. “Count me in.”

Evie waved a white napkin in surrender. “Lisa and my parents are here. You don’t have to stay—they do or they won’t have a place to sleep.”

“I’d love to talk to you about your time at Dartmouth,” Peg said.

“It was a long time ago, but sure.”

Nicole shook her head, but smiled. That mother and daughter had a long way to go, but at least they’d gotten started.

Evie looked at the kids sitting at the kitchen table playing Trouble. The click of the center plastic bubble was inaudible after Evie pushed
SCRUB
on the dishwasher control panel, although it had been a nice change from the whistles and beeps of video games.

Luca balanced on Jocelyn’s lap. Laney watched her. Evie watched Laney. Nicole watched Evie. Beth entered the kitchen, balled up tablecloth in her arms.

Evie’s happy-family trance was broken.

She balanced containers and opened the fridge, scanning the shelves for space. She rearranged some of the leftovers, and a small relish plate appeared. So much for nibbling on olives, gherkins, and sour tomatoes after the gefilte fish and before the soup. Evie swore next year she’d make a list more detailed than the one stuck to her fridge that said,
Don’t forget anything.