“Come out my Beloved, the Bride to meet;
The inner light of Shabbat, let us greet.
Come out my Beloved, the Bride to meet;
The inner light of Shabbat, let us greet.
“Observe” and “Remember” in a single word,
He caused us to hear, the One and Only Lord.
G-d is One and His Name is One,
For renown, for glory and in song.
Come out my Beloved, the Bride to meet;
The inner light of Shabbat, let us greet.
To welcome the Shabbat, let us progress,
For that is the source, from which to bless.
From the beginning, chosen before time,
Last in deed, but in thought-prime.
Come out my Beloved, the Bride to meet;
The inner light of Shabbat, let us greet…”
Betty whispered into Mara’s ear, “Lekhah Dodi means come my beloved. It’s an appeal for a mystical "beloved" that could mean either God or one's friends to join together in welcoming Shabbat.”
On the last verse, the guests were motioned to stand and look in the direction of the open door, greeting Queen Shabbat as she arrived.
After this, they took their seats, and everyone received a goblet of wine. Mrs. Levy’s grandson came forward. His dark blue eyes darting around the room nervously. His hands shook as he lifted a crystal carafe. His grandmother smiled at him reassuringly. He took a deep breath and began to sing.
Praise to you, Adonai our God, Sovereign of the universe,
Creator of the fruit of the vine.
Praise to You, Adonai our God, Sovereign of the universe
who finding favor with us, sanctified us with mitzvot.
In love and favor, You made the holy Shabbat our heritage
as a reminder of the work of Creation.
As first among our sacred days, it recall the Exodus from Egypt.
You chose us and set us apart from the peoples.
In love and favor You have given us Your holy Shabbat as an inheritance.
After the blessing, the group was led to the kitchen, where they took turns washing their hands. Afterwards, they sat back down at the table in silence.
Mrs. Levy uncovered two challahs. Jeremiah stepped forward and blessed the bread.
A piece of challah was placed on each plate. Once everyone was served, they began talking amongst themselves.
Joshua Cohen stood up and raised his glass. “I’d like to make a toast to Miss McClain. Congratulations on leasing the new property for your gallery. It’s quite an accomplishment, and on her first day in the city no less. Mazel tov!”
“Mazel tov!” The guests chimed in. The clinking of glasses chimed throughout the room.
“Thank you, Mr. Cohen. It’s been quite a day. I really appreciated your help at the bank. And I’d like to say…your opening prayer was quite moving. Mazel tov!”
“You’re very welcome, dear. And I’m happy that you’re celebrating Shabbat with us.”
Patrick turned to Mara and leaned forward. “Joshua filled me in on your gallery needing some repairs. I’d be happy to help with that…if you’re interested.”
Mara smiled. “That’d be wonderful.”
“If you have some time tomorrow, perhaps we could discuss it over dinner. There’s a wonderful restaurant down on Dupont Street. I happen to be friends with the owners.”
Mara’s heart skipped a beat. Was this really happening? She tried to keep her voice steady as she answered. “Yes, Mr. Deane. I would enjoy that very much.”
Betty caught Mara’s gaze, smiled, and then looked down at her plate.
Mara’s mind was racing throughout supper. Everything was happening so quickly. She wondered how it would all end. When dinner was finished, guests took turns bringing their plates to the kitchen. After the cleanup, Betty led Mara into the parlor and they sat down in front of the fireplace
“Mara, are you excited about your dinner date with Mr. Deane?”
“Well, I don’t think it’s actually a date. It’s really just a business meeting to discuss his work at the gallery.” She tried her best to hide her growing excitement.
Betty smiled knowingly. “All right, but could you tell me how your business arrangement works out.” She giggled.
“I will. It’ll be nice to try one of the restaurants in town. Mr. Deane mentioned that we’d be dining on Dupont Street.”
“Oh, interesting. That’s in the middle of Chinatown.”
“Chinatown?”
“Yes, I’m sure it will be fascinating to visit.”
“I’m sure it will be. I can’t wait.”
They chatted for a while before saying goodnight. Mara tossed and turned for over an hour. The rhythmic sounds of hoof beats eventually lulled her into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter 9
The next day was pleasantly mild, the fog burning off early. Mara hurried through her morning routine, anxious to start her day. After breakfast, she made her way outside and walked down to the mercantile store. She’d made an early start, and there were few pedestrians outside. At the end of the street, she noticed a large sign that read, Becker and Smith Mercantile.
She opened the door and went in. Banging and hammering echoed from the upstairs living quarters. Jeremiah Smith was helping an elderly woman at the front counter. Mara looked around the shop, admiring their goods. Fresh produce, canned foods, and bakery items were available near the checkout. The opposite side had a variety of kitchen gadgets, cutlery sets and dinnerware. A large china cabinet held crystal goblets and dishes. Porcelain dolls hung in rows over glass shelves. She walked to the back, passing an aisle of stacked canned goods. A clothing boutique displayed a variety of dresses and stacks of colorful material, and then a small table caught her eye. An assortment of hair accessories and brushes were neatly arranged. A small butterfly comb grabbed her attention. She admired the sapphire wings flecked with pearl accents. Mara reached for it, holding it up to the light. It was soft, delicate, and would go perfectly with her favorite blue dress. She bit down on her lower lip, trying to decide if she dared spend the money. Perhaps just this once.
Mr. Smith walked up and stood beside her. “Miss McClain, what a pleasure! Welcome to our store. I see you’ve found something to your liking.” He smiled.
“Yes, it’s beautiful. I really shouldn’t spend the money, but I don’t think I can help myself.”
“Well, dear, we all need to treat ourselves now and again. And the comb will simply look gorgeous with your blue eyes.”
“Thank you, you’re very kind. Well, I guess I should take a look at what I came here for, before I get tempted again. You mentioned you sell art supplies?”
“Oh, yes, is there anything special you had in mind?”
“I have quite a few items on my list. She reached down into her purse, retrieving a folded piece of paper. I’d like to purchase some oil paints, a new palette, a couple of brushes, a few oil rags, turpentine, and a canvas or two if you have them. Oh, and I almost forgot; I need a new easel. I couldn’t bring my old one on the train. And I’d like the canvases and easel delivered to the gallery, if you don’t mind.”
“Wonderful. We have most of those items by the back wall, and I have a catalog if you need to order anything special. Mr. Becker will be doing some errands around town. I’m sure he’d be happy to deliver the easel and canvases.”
“Perfect. I have the gallery key in my pocketbook. Let me write down the address for you.”
He led Mara over to a table in the back. She selected some oil paints, a bottle of turpentine, and a few brushes. After looking over the canvases, she chose two different sizes, a medium and larger piece. There was an oak easel propped up next to several drawing tablets. She decided to add it to her bill. He helped her bring her purchases to the front of the store and began ringing up her order. She watched the numbers click on the register and realized he’d missed an item.
“Mr. Smith, I believe you forgo
t to charge me for the comb?”
“I didn’t forget, dear. It’s a little welcoming city gift,” he smiled. “Donald and I are thrilled to have a fellow artist in the house. We can’t wait for your gallery opening!”
“You’re so kind. Thank you!” She paused a moment and an idea began to form. “Do you happen to have any of your paintings here in the store?”
“Well, actually, Donald has a few upstairs.”
“Mr. Becker, can you come down for a moment,” he called.
Donald rushed down the stairwell looking dazed, covered in sawdust, his hair sticking out in every direction.
“Miss McClain, what a pleasure. Sorry about the noise. I’m about to lose my mind with all the banging and clutter! Jerry, you should see our closet. There’s dust all over my new coat,” he groaned.
Mr. Smith smiled at him gently. “I was just telling Miss McClain about your paintings, Donald. Perhaps you’d like to show them to her?”
“Oh, goodness. I don’t know. I’m really just a beginner. They probably aren’t worth looking at.”
“You’re being modest. Show them to her.”
“All right,” he said softly. “Come on up, Miss McClain, but be careful where you walk. It’s a mess!”
He led her upstairs, stepping gingerly around stacks of wood and tools. A man was working on a plastered wall dividing the two main rooms Mara was startled when the worker turned around. It was Patrick Deane, shirtless, in a pair of dusty trousers and work boots. He pushed his hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Miss McClain, pleasure to see you this morning.” He smiled.
Her eyes traveled over his broad, Grecian form. A layer of sweat covered his skin, highlighting the contours of his chiseled body. The image of him posing on a marble pedestal surfaced in her mind. She envisioned painting his glistening features as he stood silently before her. What would it be like? She’d never been allowed the opportunity to paint a live model, unlike her male friends in Philadelphia, fellow art students, who had enjoyed the privilege. Access to the figure was the best way to understand human anatomy. Yet, women were barred from this practice. And as such, were prevented from experiencing a complete art education. For while it was considered appropriate for ladies to dabble in painting, one of the many civilized arts, such as piano playing or calligraphy, it should never be taken too seriously. More importantly, it must not be so time consuming, as it to interfere with a woman’s domestic duties.
Mara imagined Mr. Deane would make a wonderful model, and the thought stirred her. She looked away from his bare chest, flustered by the strange musings of her imagination.
“Pardon me, Mr. Deane. I’m…so sorry to interrupt your work.”
He grinned, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “No problem, darlin’. It’s always a pleasure.”
Heat rushed to her face, moving slowly down her body. She hoped desperately that Patrick hadn’t noticed.
He brushed the wavy locks from his forehead, studying her with a glimmer of amusement.
“I…was just about to look at some of Mr. Becker’s paintings,” she said, trying to sound casual.
“Please do. I’m going downstairs for a break, and I’m looking forward to dinner tonight. Mrs. Levy is letting us borrow the surrey. Six o’clock work for you?”
“Yes, that’d be very nice. Thank you.”
“Perfect, I’ll see you this evening, Miss McClain.” His smile exposed his dimples, and he reached for his shirt, covering back up before heading downstairs. Mr. Becker led her to a large bedroom. He went to the back closet and returned with three paintings.
Mara studied the images. Together they were a triptych, a panoramic scene of the Waterfront. She admired the imagery of the Embarcadero train station, the somber horse-drawn carriages, the churning waters of the San Francisco Bay, shimmering in the fading light.
She was impressed, believing the oil paintings to be quite good, especially for a novice. The setting sun mirrored the overlapping waves, the play of light and dark breathtaking.
“They’re wonderful! Would you be interested in finding a buyer for your work?”
For a moment, he could only stare, his mouth hanging open. Mara tried not to giggle at his expression. “Do you really think someone might be interested in purchasing one?”
“Why, yes, I do. I think the set is rather lovely. If you’d be interested, I would be happy to display them in my gallery. They could be on commission. When they sell, we’ll both profit,” she said.
“Oh, yes, Miss McClain, yes!” He clapped his hands together, spinning around in a graceful circle. “This is an absolute dream come true!”
“Well, you’ve just become my first featured artist! I’m absolutely thrilled, and please call me Mara,” she smiled.
“Oh, yes, Mara, and of course; call me Donald. Let’s go tell Jerry. He’ll be so happy!” He reached for her hand and together they hurried downstairs to tell Jeremiah about the news.
Mr. Smith beamed, his eyes glistening. “Congratulations, Donald. I’ve always told you your paintings should be in a gallery.”
“Thank you, Jerry. It means a lot.” He smiled and said, “Donald, those art supplies in the corner need to be delivered to Miss McClain’s new gallery. I have the key and address for you.”
“I’ll take them over now. Just let me know when you’re ready for my paintings and I’ll bring them by your new shop!”
“Wonderful.”
He gathered the supplies and went back and forth from his cart, loading them carefully into the wagon. On the last trip outside, Donald appeared to float out the door, joy lighting up his face.
Mr. Smith turned to Mara. “I can’t thank you enough. You just made his dream come true.”
“Mr. Smith, the pleasure is all mine. Donald is quite the artist.”
“Please call me Jeremiah.”
“Will do, and you can call me Mara.”
“Thank you, Mara. Can I tell you a little secret?”
“Absolutely.”
“Donald thinks we’re remodeling the upstairs to put in a sitting area. Really, it’s going to be his new art studio. It’s a special birthday gift that I’m giving him…” he trailed off suddenly uncertain if he’d revealed too much.
Mara smiled reassuringly, understanding that they were not only business associates, but also lovers. She realized that this might be a bit shocking for some, but it wasn’t the first time she knew men that romantically loved one another. Two of her closest friends, Jason and Robert, had dated in secret during college. It didn’t bother her then, and it doesn’t bother her now. Love was love in her eyes.
“Your secret is safe with me! What a thoughtful gift. I know he’ll be absolutely thrilled.”
“Thank you, Mara,” he answered with relief. “Please let us know if there’s anything we can do to help with your new gallery. We can’t wait!”
“I definitely will! And thank you again for my beautiful butterfly comb.” She reached up and gave Jeremiah a quick peck on the cheek. I really am feeling at home.”
“San Francisco is lucky to have you.”
She made her way back to the boarding house with her parcel of paints and brushes. Betty was sitting in front of the fireplace with a book. She looked up when Mara entered into the room.
“I was just thinking about you. I had an idea for your gallery this morning.”
“Oh, really?”
“I may have figured out a way to get some paintings for the grand opening. Maybe you could write an advertisement and place it in the local newspaper? That way, people will know that you’re looking for art works for your new business. It could also stir up some excitement regarding the gallery.”
“Betty, that’s brilliant. I should have thought of this before. Thank you.”
“You looked so happy when you came in. Having a good day?”
“I just came back from The Smith and Becker Mercantile. I took a look at Mr. Becker’s paintings. They’re actually quite won
derful. He’s going to let me commission them for the gallery. I have my first triptych! I’ll also have a few pieces of my own to sell. They’re smaller works. I had to leave my larger canvases back home in Philadelphia, but it’s a beginning.”
“It sure is. Congratulations.”
“Are you excited about your dinner date with Mr. Deane tonight?”
“I am, I guess. I mean, I’m a little nervous. It’s not really a date…just a business meeting.”
Betty nodded. “Well, your new business partner couldn’t keep his eyes off of you at dinner last night,” she giggled.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I can’t wait to hear how it goes.”
“Thank you. Actually, I picked up a little accessory for my dress tonight.” She reached down into the package, retrieving the butterfly comb.
“Oh, Mara, that’s gorgeous. The color matches your eyes.”
“Thank you. I think I might go upstairs and work on the advertisement for the newspaper. Your idea was brilliant.”
“Good luck.”
Mara headed back to her bedroom to get to work. She brought a notebook and pen and ink set, and placed them on the desk by the window. She worked for several hours, trying to find the right words. Crumpled papers floated over the desk, and around the floor at her feet. She finished just as the sun was setting.
Realizing she’d lost track of time, she went to the wardrobe and retrieved a royal blue dress. She changed and sat down in front of the vanity, brushing her thick strawberry blond curls, and then holding them in place with the new butterfly comb. She studied her reflection in the mirror—her eyes sparkling with excitement, a rosy blush highlighting her cheekbones. Her heart raced as she made her way down the stairs, but her happiness was cut short when she recognized that one of the guests in the parlor was Jane Darby. She was sitting close to Patrick on the loveseat; her head tossed back laughing, her hand caressing his shoulder.
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