"Nothing, deary. It's on me."

"Uh, uh! It's your engagement celebration, I'm doing the treating!" She opened the jar, removed several bills, and looked at them. "I might as well spend his money while I still have it," she reflected. "How much?"

"Oh, I don't know. How much is there?"

Rachel counted. "Seems there's at least a hundred."

"That should do."

They laughed; Rachel hadn't done that in a long time. It felt good. She looked good. The night held promise.

They heard the taxi's horn, gathered their coats, and left. Rachel locked the door behind her, and as she walked toward the cab, she turned around and looked at the grand house. She felt a lump in her throat, and a force drawing her back inside, but she resisted. She was acutely conscious of the symbolism in her actions, a feeling that with each step, she was approaching another chapter of her life.

Rachel and Esther got into the backseat of the cab, and Esther instructed the driver where to take them. "It's a wonderful little bar on Bleecker Street," she said to Rachel. "You'll like it. Nice crowd, not too rowdy."

Rachel wasn't sure if she would ever "like" going to a bar, but she had to admit it felt good to be out. "So, have you told your parents yet?" she asked Esther.

"Heavens no."

"And when do you plan to?"

"Sometime."

"Esther!"

"I know, I know. It's just that it's going to cause such a ruckus."

"Do they know anything?"

"About what?"

"Stephen."

"You mean, do they know he exists?"

Rachel nodded.

"No, not really."

"You mean they don't know..."

"Anything. And I'd just as soon keep it that way, if I could. But I can't, can I?"

"I don't see how."

Esther laughed. "It is funny when you think about it," she explained. "My parents have no idea of the life I live; they're in their own little world. I haven't gone out on a shiddoch date in years, and they don't wonder. Perhaps they don't want to wonder, or maybe they've just given up on me. Who knows? Either way, it should be interesting to see their reaction."

"Interesting isn't exactly the word that comes to mind."

"I suppose not." Esther reflected. "You know, deary, I was wondering if maybe you could sort of help me out with this." Devilish.

Rachel couldn't imagine what was coming next. "Help you? How?"

"Well, to begin with, we will need a rabbi to marry us."

"Esther, Binny isn't a rabbi yet, and even if he was, I'm sure he would have nothing to do with it. Besides, we're practically separated."

"Who was talking about Binny? I was talking about a real rabbi."

Rachel suddenly had a familiar sensation, one she hadn't felt in years. It was the same feeling she had had as a girl whenever Esther schemed. "You can't be serious," she said sternly.

Esther turned to look at her. "Rachel please, if your father would marry us, if he would talk to my father, it might save us all from Armageddon. At least it would save me."

"Esther, my father's heart is weak enough without all this."

Esther turned away, disappointed, silent.

"Okay, I'll talk to him."

Rachel awoke the next morning in a mood she hadn't known in years. It had been a delightful evening. Lots of innocent male attention, even some harmless flirting, and probably a bit too much to drink. All in all, she felt like a woman again.

She looked in the mirror, smiled, and ran her hands over her figure. Still not too bad, she thought.

An image of Esther came to mind. Esther had looked awfully thin last night, but Rachel hadn't wanted to mention it. There had been enough to contend with without getting into all that. And anyway, what difference would it have made? Esther believed she had to stay thin to keep her man and her sanity, and Rachel was far from an expert on either of those topics.

Rachel jumped into the shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to fix herself some breakfast. No sign of Binny. He had been asleep when she'd gotten home, and was already gone when she awoke. She figured he didn't even care where she'd been, and that brought back some of her sadness. But only for a moment. She was too absorbed with Esther's problems to worry about her own.

And what problems they were. Esther's father, Lazar Mandlebaum, was a simple man. He would never understand any of this, just as Rachel's father hadn't understood when she'd told him about college and medical school. And this was worse. A lot worse.

At least Rachel understood. Bravo, Esther, for chasing after the things you knew would make you happy, and shame on me for settling, for allowing myself to end up like this. But enough with feeling sorry for herself; she had work to do. She had to speak with her father.

"h.e.l.lo Mama," Rachel said.

Hannah Weissman was surprised to find Rachel at her front door. She looked her daughter over. Cherry red fall coat, matching hat, and a sprightly countenance. The old Rachel.

They embraced. Hannah could barely hold back her tears.

"Now, Mama, let's not get melodramatic," Rachel said.

Hannah didn't respond. She was speechless.

Isaac emerged from the living room, and also began to cry.

"You too, Papa?"

Isaac was embarra.s.sed, but couldn't help himself. His daughter, his beautiful daughter, had returned to life. "Come, come in!" he said, waving her into the living room.

Rachel removed her coat and followed her father. Hannah excused herself to the kitchen to prepare some coffee. "You look so vunderful," Isaac said, his lips quivering, as he sat down.

"Thank you, Papa."

They chatted for a short while, about nothing, until Hannah came in with some coffee and cake. Rachel stood to help her mother. "It's okay," Hannah said, "just sit, let me do the work."

"So, vhat's new? Vat's really new?" Isaac asked.

"Well, as you can both see, I'm feeling better, Baruch Hashem."

Isaac: "Yes, Baruch Hashem, thank G.o.d."

Hannah: "Baruch Hashem."

Rachel: "And how are you?"

Isaac: "Ve're both gut, Baruch Hashem, and now that you're okay, ve're better than ever!"

Hannah nodded along.

Rachel: "I saw Esther yesterday, last night." She had to start somewhere.

Hannah: "And how is she doing?"

Rachel: "Good, I suppose." Tentative. "She's getting married."

Isaac: "Mazel tov! It's about time!"

Hannah: "Mazel Tov." Subdued. She could tell from Rachel's tone that something wasn't quite right.

Isaac: "And who is the lucky man?"

Rachel looked at her parents and read her mother's reaction. She knew she could never fool her mother. "His name is Stephen Butler," she said.

Isaac: "Butler," he reflected, "I don't think I know the family."

Hannah: "You wouldn't." Disdain.

Rachel: "Mama!"

Hannah: "Rachel, why don't you tell your father everything."

Rachel: "Okay, so he's not Lubavitch."

Isaac: "She's marrying a Satmar?"

Hannah: "No, Isaac, I don't think he's a Satmar, or even a Bratslaver." She hesitated a moment, looking at Rachel. "I don't think he's even Jewish."

Isaac's face turned crimson.

"That's not true!" Rachel protested. "He is Jewish, just not religious." As if that made much of a difference.

Isaac: "How has her father reacted?"

Rachel: "Well, that's just it. He really doesn't know yet."

Hannah jumped in. "Rachel, you're not suggesting that we, I mean your father, be the messenger of such news, are you?"

Isaac seemed a bit confused. There was an unspoken communication between the two women that he had never been privy to, a type of mind reading.

"Well," Rachel responded, "I was sort of hoping... actually, Esther was hoping that Papa might intercede and talk to Reb Lazar."

Hannah: "Rachel, it really is Esther's place to deal with her parents."

Rachel: "I know. It's just that she's afraid of their reaction. But if Papa tells them it's okay..."

"Okay, what's okay?" Hannah interrupted.

Rachel was dumbfounded.

"Don't worry," Isaac said to the women, "I'll find a way to talk to Reb Lazar." At that moment, he wasn't going to deny his daughter anything.

"But what will you say?" Hannah asked.

Isaac thought about her question. "I'll tell him that this is an opportunity for him to do a great mitzvah, to reach out and bring this young man into the fold of Yiddishkeit."

"I'm sure that will go over well," Hannah responded sardonically. "While you're at it, tell him what a mitzvah it would be to bring his daughter back to Judaism as well."

Rachel: "Mama, maybe they both will return."

Hannah: "And maybe the Messiah will come tomorrow."

Rachel didn't want to argue, she had already won. "One more thing, Papa," she said.

Isaac waited.

"Would you marry them?"

Did he really have a choice?

CHAPTER 41.

Joshua and Connie pa.s.sed the Bar exam, became full-fledged lawyers, and celebrated with steak dinners at Luger's under the Williamsburg Bridge. Dessert was at some flea bag motel a few blocks from the restaurant. The next morning, Joshua marched into Fielding's office, tendered his resignation, and informed Fielding that Willie Johnson would henceforth be represented by private council. Fielding didn't seem to care much about either piece of news. "Better you than me," was all he had to say.

Joshua was now a lawyer with a client, soaking behind the ears, and no place to hang his proverbial hat. He invited Connie to join him in private practice, but she wasn't leaving the DA's office so fast. He didn't really try to persuade her. She would be more valuable where she was.