by Galia Albin
Chapter 58
“To meet in the conference room? This doesn’t really appeal to me, but I’ll be happy to treat you to a dinner at the fish restaurant in the Caesarea.”
“Chez Jonathan? It’s an excellent restaurant! Micah sounded excited yet a little suspicious. Evidently, he expected a fight, at least an argument, and here, surprisingly, Talia agreed to meet with him and even invited him to a fancy restaurant.
“Remember, it’s my treat this time, so let’s have no arguments later,” Talia repeated, and Micah did not miss the implied compliment to his generosity.
The next day, Talia planned the meeting to the last detail. She gave a lot of thought to her choice of dress. For the first time since knowing Micah, she considered the way he was going to look at her, and she wanted to impress him, to outshine all the other women in the restaurant, yet without being provocative.
She finally settled on a bottle green pant-suit, that matched her green eyes. Around her neck she wore a nonchalantly wrapped colorful scarf and her subtly highlighted eyes sparkled. And her hair, that she now wore long, had resumed its natural honey color. Talia scanned her image in the mirror, hoping that her appearance, at least, would do half the work for her. She wouldn’t mind piquing his desire a little this time. She also decided this was a good opportunity to further Ditty’s cause, although she kept the meeting with Micah a secret so as not to build up her friend's hopes prematurely.
By design, Talia arrived at the restaurant a few minutes before Micah. She waited at a table in the far comer of the restaurant and spotted him the moment he entered. Micah was wearing a formal dark blue suit with a broad art nouveau tie in a yellow and purple design that somewhat mitigated the seriousness of the suit. No doubt, Micah was an impressive-looking man; not in vain had he earned his sobriquet “Handsome Micah;” he was tall and robust, with a square face; his thick hair was turning silver at the temples, and his big brown eyes sometimes looked like those of a dead fish, sometimes were warm and filled with laughter, like a child’s. To Talia, Micah always looked like an American film star, the Gary Cooper or James Stewart type. He came to her table and they shook hands. She was seated, and when he towered over her, exuding power and self-confidence that she herself lacked just then, she almost lost her nerve. She forced herself to smile. “Sit down, please,” she said, swallowing hard and averting her face for a moment, to hide the expression of revulsion it wore, her automatic reaction to seeing him.
“A nice table. This really classy,” Micah said, to break the ice.
“Yes, and I have already placed the order, so you won’t have to bother. The same for both of us. First course, a fish pate—the specialitѐ de la maison, of Michel, the chef. As an entree, steamed salmon on a bed of filo dough, and for dessert you can have your choice. I recommend the declivous Halvah parfait they have here. I also left you the talk of choosing a wine.
The sommelier will be here in a moment.”
“Sounds great,” Micah sounded flattered. Talia had credited him with sophistication and good taste. He was, in fact, well-known as a connoisseur and gourmand; once a year, he went on a tour of the famous wine cellars of Tuscany and Burgundy, stocking up his own cellar.
“Before the food arrives, we can talk.” Talia felt her self-confidence return. “You said there was something you wanted to explain to me, but let me say something first.”
“Go ahead, please.”
“I’ve been racking my brain for a long time trying to figure out why you have been picking on me, Micah. What have I done to you to make you fight with me, attempt to rape me, try to seduce me? When I don’t agree to your conditions, you tried to break my spirit and cause me damage. Why?” “Talia, I said I would explain to you...”
“No, there’s no need. I understand. Everything you’ve done up to now was done to Jonathan, as if he were still alive. In this respect, at least, you and I are alike; for both of us, Jonathan continues to exist,” she simpered sarcastically, then continued. “All your life you tried to compete with him, unsuccessfully. You were close friends, your mothers were friends, you served in the army together. You were always the handsome one, the leader, but Jonathan was always cleverer than you, he had money, lots of money, a fancy car, while you—everything you had you obtained through Jonathan. This is the whole story in a nutshell—and it’s not only your story, but all of Jonathan’s close friends’: Manu, Uzzi, Dan Malhi, perhaps also the son of the Old Man, who adored Jonathan and treated his own offspring like dirt.” Micah stared at Talia, fascinated. She sounded matter-of-fact, purposeful, devoid of any hint of rancor or provocation. He didn’t utter a word.
“I just wanted to erase, once and for all, Jonathan’s shadow from your soul. You remember from your Bible studies what Ahitopher counseled Absalom? To sleep with his father’s wives. True, Jonathan was not your father, but he was a sort of big brother to you. Isn’t that right, Micah?”
“But Talia, I can explain, I’m ready to apologize. What’s the point of you accusing me like this? This isn’t the purpose of our meeting.”
“You vowed to take revenge on Jonathan when he fired you. You burned with the desire to retaliate. For years, you entertained dreams of sweet revenge, and you were very angry when you couldn’t get me, and even angrier when you saw me following Jonathan’s footsteps making a success of it. When it comes to me, it isn’t love that consumes you, but ‘jealousy cruel as the grave.’ You just wouldn’t give up.”
Micah fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. He put down his fork and looked at her pleadingly. “Enough, Talia, I can’t let you go on insulting me like this.”
“Just tell me if you agree with my theory, and then we can discuss other matters.” Talia spoke pleasantly, beaming at him radiantly. “Agree?” “Yeah, do I have a choice? What do I know about psychology, especially my own? This is Ditty’s domain. It’s her profession as well as her hobby.”
Talia couldn’t resist taunting him. “Ditty? Who’s that? Is there someone in your life by that name?”
“Talia, I know you hate me and I think you’re quite justified, but I want my wife and daughter back. I’m sorry for what happened. If you don’t believe me, get a social worker to follow me around and check. I’m sure Eden misses me.” To Talia’s amazement, his brown eyes suddenly filled with tears.
The first course was served on dainty china plates; Talia played with the pate on her plate as she remonstrated with Micah, “Listen, you should have thought of Eden before. But I have a good idea; you deserve a punishment that will teach you a lesson. Well, I’m about to establish a Battered Women’s Center which will be managed by Ditty. As a member of the family, you’re the first to hear this. Ditty has decided to quit her job at the university and concentrate on abused women. Every year we have more and more cases of beaten, injured, abused and murdered women. Ditty has firsthand knowledge of the subject, she’s a psychologist and is also an excellent organizer. She will be the perfect director for this project.”
“So where’s the punishment?”
“Wait! First of all, you will donate the money for the building and for the workers’ salaries, including Ditty’s.”
“Well, you are showering me with compliments today. What makes you think I have that kind of money?”
“I think that as a serious contender for the purchase of the Moshavim Bank, you are not exactly penniless. If you don’t agree, I’ll make it my business to tell everyone about you and Ditty. Eden with be involved in this, too, I doubt such reports in the gossip columns are going to help you cause.” “How do you know all this?” He looked flabbergasted.
“I have my sources. The main course is truly excellent, why don’t you try it? The wine is superb, too. I’m not a great connoisseur, but one or two things I did pick up from Jonathan.
“A lot more than one or two,” Micah blurted out, crestfallen.
“Well, Micah, don’t be so down in the mouth. You said you wanted to patch things up with me, so here, we’re making up. I’l
l help you with the bank. All I need to do is to say a few good things about you to the right person at the right time; you, on the other hand, won’t stand in my way with the media tender, that’s all. And as for Ditty and Eden, it’s really their affair. By the way, I’ve already mailed you an invitation to the opening of the women’s shelter next week. I sure hope you’ll come.”
They finished the dinner under a pleasant atmosphere. Micah seemed to enjoy every minute. Talia was solicitous and charming, she even showed off her skill of imitating people. She made a parody of their common friends and enemies and several politicians of their acquaintance, refilling his wine glass all the while. The check was considerable, but Talia paid it nonchalantly and gracefully. She knew she had attained the goals she had set for herself. Micah was in her hands.
Then a strained silence prevailed, fraught with Micah’s expectations for the rest of the night, and with Talia’s desire to get out of there as fast as possible. But the show wasn’t over yet; patience, she commanded herself. She touched his arm gently and smiled into his eyes. “You don’t look as if you should drive, Micah. Leave your car here, and I’ll take you home.” He seemed to have revived. They got into her car, and she inserted a CD of soft Greek music. For a while they sat enveloped in their thoughts.
The car seemed to drive by itself. At the exit to the Dan suburb, Micah suddenly sat bolt upright. “So you’re taking me home?” he asked. “Yes, where else?” Talia answered. Slowly pulling up in front of his house. He bent down and kissed her cheek, gently, dispassionately, almost ruefully. “Thank you, Talia, for everything. I think you’re a real devil, but actually you’re okay. Well, you won’t have any more trouble from me. See you at the opening center next week.”
On the way home, Talia examined her feelings. She got what she wanted but not totally honestly. On the other hand, her adversaries were no better off. What choice did she really have? Would a man have behaved differently? She wanted to win the bid for the media channels, and she’d used all the means at her disposal to get it, without cheapening herself.
Micah proved easy prey, she thought. This difficult, suspicious man did not even try to get the name of the man from her whose ear she supposedly had and who could facilitate Micah’s purchase of the bank. How lucky that, just two days earlier, Keiserman had told her of Micah’s intentions. A satisfied smile appeared on her face; what a waste of time it was to take interminable college courses in economics and business administration, when all it really takes to succeed in business is the proper connections and a good ear for rumors and gossip, and some common sense, too.
Talia, at any rate, did not have any compunction. Apparently, Micah now desired to become a banker, to acquire recognition, status power and, of course, money. But where did his money come from in the first place? From Jonathan. If he ends up getting his bank, Talia thought with self-satisfaction, it would only be thanks to the sound economic basis that Jonathan had provided him, and so, by rights, he owed her every gratitude and recompense.
On the other hand—and there’s always another hand, Talia sighed, how right were the ancient Sages when they said, “When your enemy falls, do not rejoice.” She did not gloat at Micah’s defeat. Micah was a man and an enemy, but the time had come to turn men into friends. Or at the very least, she’d consider it when she got home.
