Love Conquers All
Page 34
Chapter 31
“Talia, do you have ten minutes to spare today?” It was Nahum. “I would like to talk to you briefly between two meetings at the magazine office. Yes, this is important. Very important, I would say. No, I can’t discuss it on the phone. Your friends from the police are probably still bugging your phones.”
The sarcastic remark was aimed at Larry, and Talia would have like him to hear it, but in such matters, she thought, you never really know. She arranged to meet Nahum at the Angel Cafe, a discreet place not far from her house, where the coffee was good, as well. Sitting at a comer table, sipping her first cup of coffee, Talia thought about Nahum. Jonathan was right; he was and remained his only true friend; all the others, sycophants and parasites, only used Jonathan and exploited him for their own purposes. As a matter of fact, Nahum never belonged to so-called “Jonathan’s gang,” that hung out with him until he married.
Nahum Rimmon was a veteran economic reporter who, in all his previous jobs at various newspapers, was never promoted or properly recognized. He was considered a bright meteor, but his work was of inconsistent quality. When Jonathan made the head of “Capital” magazine, Nahum was eternally grateful. He was a small, dapper man, with youthful features and a crew cut that had already turned gray. For him, Jonathan had been a bosom buddy, an enlightened boss and a revered guru.
Without greeting her, Nahum sat down facing her, his eyes scanning her keenly and sympathetically. He took her fingers in his hand—they had been lying limply by her coffee cup—and kissed them. “Are you all right, Talia?”
“Yes, Frumpy.” That was her nickname for him. She knew that he was worried about her and, therefore, for the first time since the Shiva, she’d taken great pains in choosing her clothes. She wore a beige outfit over a blouse in white and beige stripes. The outfit became her, and she needed very little make-up. I’ll be all right,” she smiled, “You don’t for a moment imagine that Jonathan left me...”
“Not on your life. But whatever you say. As for me, there’s no consolation. Jonathan is gone, and I just can’t get used to the idea...”
“You must tell me quickly why you wanted to see me,” she cut him short. “I have to pick Udi up from his play school.” She didn’t want anyone to see her weak and vulnerable. Talia Schwarz crying at a cafe would be grist for the newspaper mill. Although Uri, the owner of the cafe, was a loyal friend, she could see out of the comer of her eye that several of the other customers had turned their heads toward them, shamelessly staring.
“I want to talk to you about Uzzi,” Nahum lowered his voice to a whisper. “You know that I have reliable sources that have never let me down, but you mustn’t ask me to identify them. Well, my sources inform me that during the Shiva, Uzzi sold your shares in Mazor, thus depriving you of your ownership of the company, making himself the main shareholder.”
“I don’t believe it! What would Greta say?”
“This is what matters to you right now? What do you have to say about this, you, Jonathan’s wife?!”
“What do you want me to say? Tell me what you would do!” She was not very clear on what the problem was, but she knew it required a solution.
“You must decide if you want to go on playing the meek little lamb, or take matters into your own hands. The situation is not hopeless, and a widow can fight, too, if she finds herself cornered. Talia, wake up, stop being such a weakling.”
She was taken aback for a moment. When he called her a meek little lamb and a weakling he seemed to have crossed a certain line. Little Lambkin was Jonathan’s nickname for her, a private joke, a secret code belonging only to Jonathan and to her. Every couple has such codes. But after a moment’s hesitation she forgave Nahum. He was a frequent visitor to their home and had often heard Jonathan call her thus.
“You must bring charges against him, Talia. Don’t be afraid. Now I must run. If you need me, we can meet tomorrow. I’ll bring you all the information you need, and we’ll go to battle.”
“Thank you, Nahum. You’re the best friend, that’s what Jonathan used to say. And tuck your shirt in, Frumpy. I can’t be your mom all the time,” she added hastily.
She continued to sit there after he’d gone. Her feelings of gratitude to Nahum mingled with the rage and revulsion she now felt toward Uzzi. Her knees trembled under the checkered tablecloth. And what about Hanny, she thought. Uzzi and Hanny, those two unscrupulous traitors! The double betrayal hurt her almost physically, as if her hairs were being pulled out one by one. No, she wouldn’t tell Jonathan’s mother any of this. The old lady was heartbroken enough as it was.