The Saturday Wife

by Ragen, Naomi

  Delilah looked around her. The entire board was there. The men were already huddled with Viktor. She noticed that each one of them made an effort to get him alone whenever they could, and that Viktor was constantly in clandestine whispered conferences with the richest people in Swallow Lake and the environs. She wondered what they were talking about, but didn’t trouble her head too much about it. After all, the really important thing was that everyone was being incredibly nice to her.

  She was almost ready to make her shipment or designer handbags to Israel’s terror victims, and donations continued to pour in. Friends of Solange, Felice, and Amber kept asking her what she and Chaim were doing for their summer vacation; if they’d consider joining them at their private beach houses, country estates, or ranches in South America. She said she’d let them know,

  She and Joie sat next to each other on the plane, talking about the latest movie-star-couple breakup, while their babies were cared for by Joie’s daytime and nighttime au pairs.

  “I’ve hired another au pair, who is waiting for us at the hotel. The concierge arranged it. She’s going to be my water au pair, because you need someone to be especially careful with a baby near the water, and I get so sleepy in the sun. Also, if—God forbid!—one of the other au pairs gets sick, she can take over, because goodness knows I’ve got my hands full with supervising this whole shindig.”

  And then, before they knew it, the plane had landed, refueled, and taken off again. After hours over the open sea, it suddenly hovered above a series of incredibly green and magnificent islands. “Ooooh!” everyone gasped, third-graders on their first trip to Disneyland, as the plane came in for a landing amid palms and mountains and beaches. Dark-skinned girls in hula outfits waited on the tarmac. Hips swaying, they placed thick purple, white, and pink leis around the guests as they descended. “Don’t worry about the luggage. It’ll be brought to you,” someone said, directing them to waiting limousines.

  Delilah leaned back, sighing with contentment, as the car drove off. How far she had come from middle-income housing projects near the bay, she thought, holding her baby in her lap and threading her arm through her husband’s. She rested her head against Chaim’s shoulder. She felt a surge of gratitude toward him for being her partner and making all this possible.

  He looked at her, surprised and touched, and patted her hand. “Happy, my love?”

  She nodded. For the first time she felt it was really true. She was happy. She had everything she’d always dreamed about.

  And it was just the beginning.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Hotel employees welcomed them tenderly, as if they were delightful friends who had been away too long. An unseen hand gently placed a tall glass filled with untold amounts of gaily colored alcohol and a little umbrella into her hand. She followed a bellboy through a spectacular outdoor lobby facing the sea until she reached her suite.

  Oh! Delilah thought, looking around the suite. It was like an Entertainment Channel special featuring “celeb perks.” She sank into the pillows of the couch, fingering the bows of a huge gift basket.

  “Delilah!”

  “Huh?”

  “The baby, remember?” Chaim held out the sweating, unhappy infant to her.

  She looked at him, annoyed. Little Abraham with his endless secretions and appetites. She took him reluctantly, shaking her head. “Look, Chaim, if this weekend is going to work, I have to have someone to help me. Otherwise, I won’t be able to do anything.”

  “What, exactly, are you planning to do?”

  She thought fast. “Well, help Joie through it. Sit next to her in the synagogue during the ceremony, explaining things. You know she expects me to. And I can’t do it with a crying baby.”

  He shrugged. “Well, I can’t take care of him. I’ve got to be up there with the Bar Mitzva boy. He’s going to need all the help he can get.”

  “Not you! I need an au pair.”

  “Can’t the Shammanovs’ three au pairs watch him?”

  She shook her head. “Viktor wants them to concentrate on Natasha.”

  “Don’t you have to bring one of those with you?”

  “No, actually the concierge can arrange it. Joie told me all about it.” She handed the baby back to him and picked up the phone.

  The baby, hungry and hot, with aching ears, began to whimper.

  “They say it’s absolutely no problem,” she said, hanging up the phone triumphantly. “They’ll send us one. We can have her for the whole weekend.”

  “And the cost?”

  She looked at him steadily. “Look, we are getting this entire vacation for free, so we can afford to splurge on this one little thing.” She walked over, patting down his tie. “Come on, honey, otherwise I’ll never get to go swimming or anything.”

  “Oh, so that’s what this is really about! Delilah, it’s just not appropriate for the rabbi’s wife to be walking around in a bikini.”

  The baby was now screaming so loud he’d completely lost his breath, his face going frighteningly red. Reluctantly, she took the infant back, unbottoning her blouse and whipping out a breast. Little Abe, already familiar with the lay of the land, wasn’t taking any chances; he latched on to the nipple quickly, hanging on with desperate determination.

  “Ouch, that hurts! You little leech! Look, Chaim, don’t be a fuddy-duddy. These are all fun people who won’t mind a bit. I made sure of that.”

  “What?”

  “I mean, Joie made sure of that.”

  “So it’s true, then! You did pick the guest list.”

  “Don’t be silly. Joie made the final decision.”

  “But you were the one who told her who’d be fun and who wouldn’t?”

  Delilah, who was holding the baby in one arm and rummaging through her luggage with the other as she looked for her bathing suit, cover-up, trendy baseball cap, flip-flops, and eyewear, looked up for a moment. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

  “Don’t you understand?” he exploded. “You—no, we—are guilty of everything people have been accusing us of! And they are absolutely right to be furious.”

  “They’re just jealous. You know what? Maybe they’ll learn a lesson from all this. Isn’t that what you always say, that God gives us troubles to open our hearts and make us repent and become better people?”

  He stared. “And what, exactly, are the people back home trudging through the icy sludge supposed to learn from this, Delilah?”

  She thought about it for a moment. “That they should be nicer to their rabbi’s wife,” she said, shrugging. “But when I get back, I promise you I’ll give them every opportunity. After all, doesn’t the Torah tell us not to hold a grudge?”

  He shook his head, giving up.

  The pool was surrounded by little three-sided tents, inside of which there were two chaise lounges. In one tent she spotted Viktor, deep in discussion with Stuart Grodin. She thought about waving to them, but they only had eyes for each other. The pool boy led her to an empty tent, handing her thick white towels and arranging her lounge covers. Delilah left the baby in his carriage and stretched out. Soon a dark-haired Hawaiian beauty came by.

  “Mrs. Levi? I’m Lana, your au pair for the weekend. Aloha. Happy to meet you.”

  Delilah swung her legs over the side of the chaise. “And I’m delighted to meet you.” She grinned, stretching out her hand. “Well, here he is, the baby. Abraham. Little Abe.” She made appropriately maternal faces at the exhausted baby, who looked back at her, bleary-eyed. “He’s a little knocked out from the flight. But here is some formula, and his bottles and pacifier, and his favorite giraffe.”

  And just like that, little Abe disappeared.

  She leaned back, stretching out, allowing her robe to open, and cautiously peeked around to see if anyone had reacted. Seeing nothing, she took it off altogether.

  It was a white suit, covered with tiny gold cross-stitch embroidery. She looked, she realized, absolutely luscious in it. Plates of pineapple were
brought to her, and a bar menu. She chose a Heavenly Hawaiian Smoothee, made with frozen yogurt, fresh tropical fruits, and some kind of liquor. She wasn’t an expert, but, boy, what a wallop! Considering that she was still experiencing the effects of the welcome drink, whatever inhibitions still lingered were soon sent on their way.

  She leaned back, boldly lifting off the baseball cap. Covering her hair suddenly seemed ludicrous, considering the vast expanses of forbidden flesh now open for public viewing. She pushed back her sunglasses, surveying the new world. She had no idea that at the same time, the world was surveying her.

  Just across the pool lay Dr. Joseph Rolland. From behind his sunglasses, he examined the rabbi’s wife.

  She was like a big, soft, sexy doll, he thought. Blond hair (this was definitely not a wig, he realized, delighted) lightened from darkish honey to fourteen-karat gold, the shadings competently but not expertly done. It was the kind of color a man with meticulous and expensive tastes might secretly sneer at after he’d had his good time. Her lips were full yet delicate, when not cheapened by a slash of some too-bright trendy shade as they were now. The eyes were a glorious blue but a little narrow at the corners, the only part of her face that really looked better with her obvious and carefully applied makeup. Without it, he considered, her face would look more deliberate and calculating, like an animal scurrying for escape or chasing its next meal.

  The bathing suit was nice but, given his experience with keeping high-maintenance girlfriends happy, he knew it had been found on a bargain rack in an expensive department store because of some fluke of size or color or style that didn’t mesh with popular taste. Yet it looked wonderful on her. She had the knack, which very few women have, of making clothes her own so that you couldn’t imagine them on anyone else. No one would look at her and say, What a beautiful bathing suit! They’d say, What a beautiful woman!

  He was quite surprised to see her at the pool in this state of undress. He knew she was careful never to put herself outside the religious pale. Nothing too low-cut or sleeveless or far above the knees. And her hair was always covered. He blessed his good luck as he studied her slim ankles and shapely calves, her curvy wide hips and slim waist, with just the right absence of any excess fat to make her truly delicious. She was turning to talk to the women on all sides who had gathered around her, her head high, her smile and laugh animated, her expression alternately amazed or scandalized, while all the while her eyes cast furtive, searching glances around her that acknowledged and ignored the male appreciation being beamed at her from all directions.

  “Like some more sunscreen, honey?” Mariette offered her husband, as she covered her nose with white goo.

  He jerked back to reality. “Huh! Oh, ah. Well. Sure. Thanks, Mariette,” he murmured, allowing her to massage it into his chest. He saw Delilah glance up and stare in his direction. He nodded and waved. Mariette turned around to see who it was he was greeting. She saw Delilah lying there in her bathing suit, and her eyes narrowed.

  Delilah lowered her head. Mariette had her hands full, she thought, flattered and scandalized. He was sort of cute though, she thought, in a very subdued and older-man kind of way. He looked as if he had had lots and lots of experience. But even those men eventually find their perfect match and settle down. Look at Warren Beatty. Look at Michael Douglas. Of course, they were usually close to sixty and being blown off by chorus girls when it finally happened, but c’est la vie. He was old enough to be her . . . sugar daddy, a small voice inside piped up. She gave the idea a slap to see if it would howl and go away, but it didn’t. It just gave a squeak, to prove that it was real and flexible.

  But even Delilah Levi had her limits, she told herself. Besides, if it was just money she was after, there were plenty of ways to get it. And plenty of younger men who had it.

  She put on her robe, turning her attention to the small group that had gathered around her as the women of Ohel Aaron zeroed in on their favorite rebbitzin, the one who had made it possible for them to leave behind the freezing cold Connecticut winter for a few days on this ultimate, all-expenses-paid dream vacation in Hawaii.

  Those lucky enough to find empty chairs near her sat down as if they were at the Western Wall and had finally maneuvered their way into touching distance of the holy stones. The others crowded in nearby, having no choice but to content themselves with turning their bodies in her direction so they could catch her every word and perhaps seize an opportunity to participate in the conversation. And when they looked at Delilah, they couldn’t believe they’d never noticed how beautiful she was: a golden girl, her skin turning a little bronze as it tanned under expensive sun cream, supplied in the gift basket each guest had found in their room. Beautiful and young and wise. And smart! And funny! Why, they found themselves laughing and laughing at the least little roll of her eye or slightly raised inflection of her voice. They adored Delilah Levi, so kind and friendly and down-to-earth! Not one of those hypocritical fanatics whom everyone had to tiptoe around in case they bumped into her halo.

  And Delilah liked them, for the most part. But not enough to put herself out. She was content to smile with noblesse oblige as she accepted offers of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts and Cosmopolitan magazines. She closed her eyes, letting the sunlight dance on her lids, listening to the sound of the waves crashing soothingly on the white beach sand below the pool.

  As all religious people know, there are two ways to take any fortunate event that occurs in your life. The first is to accept it as a pure blessing from God, a reward for numerous good deeds. The second is to view it as God’s way of emptying your mitzva-reward bank account, as He readies the roof to fall in upon your head for your sins.

  But Delilah wasn’t thinking about either possibility. She was simply living in the present, imagining it would go on this way forever.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  The next morning they gathered on the beach as instructed, waiting to be borne off to the mysterious venue of the Bar Mitzva to end all Bar Mitzvas. At that point, everyone was so psyched up, only a few would have been surprised if the ground had opened up and a rocket had emerged from an underground silo ready to launch them to the moon.

  “Have you figured out the theme?” Amber asked Mariette, who shook her head.

  Every Bar and Bat Mitzva has to have a theme. Becoming responsible for your deeds is such a downer. So people have a gangster theme, with each table commemorating another Jewish crook or murderer. Or a shopping theme, with each table representing a different store: Bergdorf’s, Nordstrom’s, Lord & Taylor. Or a Greek theme—which is a bit problematic, considering that Jews annually celebrate the victory of the Maccabees over the vicious Heilenization program that almost destroyed Judaism—but, hey, togas are so cute.

  People were still not sure what the Shammanovs’ theme was.

  “First, I thought it would be maybe Eighty Days Around the World. But then you’d need a hot-air balloon, and I don’t see any,” Mariette said, scanning the area.

  “It could be Swiss Family Robinson” Felice murmured.

  Just then they spied the sails in the distance, as a flotilla of boats headed toward shore and landed, one by one. Burly, handsome sailors, their tanned and muscled thighs set off perfectly by white shorts, jumped out to haul the boats in. One by one, the sailors approached the women, their smiles dazzling in their sun-kissed faces, as they picked up the valises and led the wives on board, their husbands following as an afterthought. Soon the entire Bar Mitzva party had pushed off from shore into the wide ocean.

  “Oh, look at the whales!” Delilah shouted, squeezing Chaim’s hand.

  “Where?” Mariette demanded.

  “Right there! See that spray of water?” Dr. Rolland exclaimed, pointing to the horizon as he moved toward the boat railing next to Delilah. She felt his shoulder brush against hers, his hip connect for a moment, but when she turned to him with a raised eyebrow, he seemed completely oblivious, looking out to sea, his hand clasped around his wife’s wais
t. Delilah shrugged, moving away.

  Soon the sea was full of whales, dashing around the boats thrilling them.

  “I don’t know, they’re awfully big. Isn’t this a little dangerous?” Amber pointed out. “I mean, couldn’t they turn our boat over?”

  Just as she said it, a huge one brushed past the boat ahead of them, dousing the passengers with water.

  “Oh, my clothes are soaked!” one woman wept, very not in the spirit of the party. But Joie wasn’t having any of that. Soon the woman found herself in a lifeboat, speeding back to shore. Her husband waved to her. Joie took a megaphone: “And if anyone else gets wet, don’t worry. We’ve got plenty of clothes on board! Relax!”

  “Maybe the theme is Jaws?” Felice said, shuddering as the poor woman faded in the distance.

  “Or Mutiny on the Bounty,” Chaim whispered.

  Just then it came into view: a fabulous cruise ship flying Russian flags and flags with . . . with—no, it couldn’t be—flags with the face of Anatoly Shammanov, the Bar Mitzva boy! Soon the guests were being helped from the sailboats up to the ship.

  They were greeted by a group of Hawaiian musicians who began to beat their drums and play their slack-key guitars. Lovely girls in grass skirts and leis undulated all over the deck, giving out grass skirts to all the women.

  “Everybody hula!” a deejay commanded them.

  “Isn’t this fun?” Joie shouted over to Delilah, who was busy fastening the grass skirt around her hips.

  “The best!” Delilah shouted back, outswiveling the dancers as best she could.

  Then the girls were replaced by men naked to the waist, juggling burning torches as hypnotic drums began to play. And then, suddenly, a loudspeaker invited them all to the right side of the boat.

  They peered at the empty sea, where a tiny speck appeared in the distance. It got larger and larger.