Bess and Frima

by Alice Rosenthal

  When they returned Mama was at her sewing machine. She greeted them with a smug look of victory.

  “And?”

  “And what? Frima, my dear. He’s coming and that’s all. Though maybe we could put a piece of plumber’s tape over his mouth. That would be nice.”

  “Hannah, how in the world did you convince him?”

  “Jack, Jack, when will you learn? A little blackmail, a little bribery, a little flattery. You know, diplomacy.”

  CHAPTER 16

  And so it happened, and on a lovely spring day, as planned. The bride was beautiful, the groom handsome. Beth was bridesmaid, and Jack’s cousin was best man. The four stood under the canopy, while Sam, Sarah, Mama, and Grandpa sat in the first row: Sam stony-faced, Sarah smiling through tears, Mama and Grandpa beaming proudly. Vinny, discreet as usual, sat further back, next to Leon, who had offered to listen for the phone and to generally take care of business and free Mama to bask in her glory. The rabbi intoned, the groom stepped on the glass and broke it decisively, everyone shouted mazel tov, the bride was kissed, and the formalities were over. Now the real celebration could begin.

  Mama’s hospitable table and bar were everything they should be, as was the wedding cake. The happy couple, dazed by the hugs, kisses, and congratulations, had barely begun to enjoy the celebration when the dancing began a little later, and they didn’t stay for long. Mama had declared that the newlyweds should have at least a couple of nights of honeymoon and had booked them into a very nice guest house for the weekend, far enough from family and friends for privacy. She must have called in a few favors for this luxury, Frima thought. Also, she admired the dexterity with which her mother had kept antagonists apart. Moe Ginsberg, who had a home in Woodridge, offered his guest room for Beth and Vinny. The older Erlichmans would stay at Eisner’s, none the wiser. The festivities continued, and, as Beth later related to Frima, everyone behaved after their fashion.

  Beth, delighted with Moe’s hospitality, took his arm. “Well, we’re grateful, of course, but, I don’t know, would Jefferson sleep there?”

  “In Woodridge? I don’t think so, but he might condescend to stay here. What a delightful party. Hannah has certainly outdone herself.”

  “But I don’t see Judith anywhere. Couldn’t she come?”

  “Unfortunately, she had to be in New York, but she was so sorry to miss it. Everyone is having such a good time,” he continued, gazing around, “except that couple over there, especially the man. I don’t know them, but joyful, they’re not.”

  Beth groaned. “My parents—father and mother of the groom. They don’t approve of what they see here. At least my father doesn’t. My mother simply disapproves of my father. Nothing new there. It shows she’s human and redeemable.”

  “But what is the objection? Not to the wedding or the bride, surely!”

  “Now don’t play dumb with me, Moe. You know perfectly well the problem is Vinny and me.”

  Moe gave a little smile. “So Vinny hasn’t won them over yet?”

  “He hasn’t met them. They won’t acknowledge his existence, or mine, if I am with him. But I think I’d better go over and talk to them.”

  “Gently, my dear girl—if you don’t mind my offering a little fatherly advice?”

  “From you, Moe, anytime.”

  When Beth approached, Sam ostentatiously moved to the far side of the room and spoke to no one. Beth took courage and boyfriend in hand and introduced Vinny to her mother.

  “So nice to meet you, Mrs. Erlichman, and on such a happy occasion. Mazel tov!”

  “Likewise, I’m sure. Head full of sawdust, a heart of stone—stubborn, don’t ask! A schnorer, a vantz!”

  For once, Vinny was at a loss. Beth, unable to contain herself, dragged him out of earshot, and over to the bar. “She’s talking about my father, not you. Oh, my God, the look on your face—don’t make me laugh. I swear I’ll have an accident.”

  “I know what a schnorer is, but what’s a vantz?”

  “A bedbug,” she said, giving way again.

  “You know, she wouldn’t be a bad looking woman, if she could stop looking so woeful.”

  “My mother?”

  “Uh-huh. I can see your resemblance to her. Well, don’t look so horrified—I’m not insulting you,” he said, carefully edging her away from the glassware.

  “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t throw anything. I am just amazed you could say that.” She hesitated a moment. “Still, you know, I remember when I was little, I used to think she was pretty.”

  “I’m sure she was. Oh, maybe she wasn’t the dish you are, but you got your looks from someone.”

  Beth smiled. Clever, of him, she thought. He knows I melt when he calls me a dish.

  “She might even be something of the knockout Frima’s mom is, if she were happier.” He smiled winningly as Hannah came waltzing up to them.

  “Vincent, my dear!” Hannah exclaimed in a lah-di-dah voice. “I’d dance with you again, if I weren’t so pooped. People are beginning to say their goodbyes, and I can’t say I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. I believe I could use a drink.”

  “I’ll mix it for you myself,” said Vinny. “You look like a lady who’d enjoy an old fashioned?”

  “Wonderful.”

  “This guy is at his most charming when he’s bartending,” Beth confided. “Also, he packs a wallop when he makes a drink, let me tell you. By the way, you want me to stop the music? That’s usually a signal that it’s time to depart.”

  “Perfect.”

  Vinny came back, drinks in hand. “I made one for you also, Bethie. Why don’t you two ladies take a load off? The place is beginning to empty. No, I won’t join you just yet. I see Leon beckoning.” He left them, and they sat not speaking, enjoying the almost unnatural quiet that marks the end of a successful celebration.

  “You should be so proud of yourself,” Beth murmured.

  “And you, too, my dear. This whole shebang can’t have been easy for you.”

  They sipped their drinks in satisfied silence for the next few minutes, waving a hand languidly at departing guests until they saw the two men coming toward them. Leon was white-faced, as if he’d had a shock. Vinny was grim and tight-jawed.

  Hannah sat up alarmed. “What is it? Why do you look like that? An accident? Frima and Jack!”

  Leon spoke gently. “No, nothing to do with the kids. But something very sad, very disturbing has happened. Judith Ginsberg is in the hospital.” He hesitated for a moment. “They don’t think she’ll live.”

  “Is she so sick?” Beth asked. “Moe said she had to be in the city. He didn’t seem worried, though.” Her voice trailed off as she looked at Vinny’s face.

  He took her hands in both of his. “Judith was shot,” he said carefully into the silence. “In the back of the head. Just as she left the station on the way home. We don’t know anything more, except it was someone with a rifle in a car.”

  Hannah, shocked into silence, looked like she might faint, and Leon edged her gently back into her seat. “I’m going to stay with Hannah tonight,” Leon said. “Vinny, here are my keys. You can stay at my place. Moe will want to be at the hospital, I know. You kids make yourselves at home there. We’ll see you back here in the morning.” Leon paused for a moment. “I’m so glad you’re here. Moe will be also.” He sighed. “I need to tell him now. No need to tell anyone else tonight. They might as well get a good night’s sleep.”

  “I’ll drive Moe to the hospital and come back for Beth later,” Vinny said. “If you stay here with Hannah while other folks are still here, it will seem more normal.”

  “I’m going with you,” Beth announced. “Don’t argue with me, Vinny. I’m going! I’ll sit with him in the backseat. He’ll need me there. You just drive!”

  Vinny didn’t argue; one look at Moe was enough. Moe’s face seemed drained of blood. He suddenly looked like an old man, carved in stone, except that he leaned on Leon’s arm. In the car he sat silent and bolt uprigh
t in the back seat, but he allowed Beth to hold his hand and returned the gentle pressure on hers until they reached the hospital.

  Beth had no sense of where they were, what medical facility they had come to, only that she felt a fierce protectiveness toward Moe. As if she were his strong healthy daughter who loved him. She must not lose him. And Judith? Ah, God! Would she lose her? She was sweating suddenly, and she stepped out of the waiting room into the outdoor chill. Her head was crowded with thoughts. Here she was with three people of such importance to her, and yet she hadn’t known of their existence before last summer. Three people who loved, protected, and guided her, who freed her in ways she’d never experienced from her own blood. They were the Catskill people, as she thought of them. As were Hannah and Frima. Her own folks and Jack were not. It didn’t matter that some of them lived in the city. It was a frame of mind or maybe soul. A year ago, she’d had silly fantasies of what might happen to her at a mountain resort. She couldn’t have imagined how vital were the attachments she would make. If she ever ran into that lying Lillian, she would thank her for conning her into taking that job at the Alpine. She was suddenly very tired, and she dozed in the waiting room until Vinny came in to drive her back to Leon’s.

  “It’s after midnight, and it doesn’t look good. Moe refuses to leave Judith. He wants to be alone with her for a while—until his sons get here. They’re flying in from California. He insisted on me taking you home, which is probably an excellent idea. I need to stay awake on the road. Talk to me, Bethie, but not about this.”

  No, not about this—nothing about loss for now. But it was easy to talk with Vinny. He liked to teach her things, and at the moment this was a useful and very comforting trait.

  “You know, Vinny, I came up here last June knowing pretty much nothing about this whole area. My folks would never even think of coming up here ordinarily. It’s even strange seeing them here now for the wedding. A vacation to them is maybe a few days with cousins in Rockaway or Sheepshead Bay—all they can afford. When I was growing up I’d hear people talk about spending two weeks in the mountains, and I had a cockamamie vision of—I don’t know—snow-capped peaks, craggy wilderness.”

  “Your boss, Max, named his spread The Alpine Song, after all.” Vinny smiled. “Maybe he had the same kind of vision.”

  “Uh-huh. I always suspected that Max had some romance tucked away under his obsession about saving on his gas and electric bills. But it’s not just Max. It’s Moe and Judith; it’s Frima’s grandfather, Jake Eisner. How did they get here and why? I remember Moe told me that what he knew about farming would fit on a postage stamp. Yet they are here with Max and the others, poor immigrant Jews from Eastern Europe spread over a rural area already inhabited by unwelcoming gentiles. I mean they didn’t originally come here to be hotelkeepers—why would they? How could they afford it?”

  “Probably a number of things come into play. From what Moe tells me, some prosperous Jews—businessmen and bankers here and in Europe—acquired these tracts of not very valuable land, to be distributed among their less fortunate brothers from Poland and Russia who were being murdered in the pogroms at the turn of the century. As I understand it, the people who came before them were mostly poor Irish immigrants who labored for the tanneries that were a main industry and cut down the hemlocks that fueled the works. To eke out a subsistence living, they had farm plots on this same stony land, where they could keep a pig, a milk cow, maybe a few chickens. Have you ever been near a tannery, by the way? The stench can be terrific. No place for a resort community. Evidently, when the tanneries closed, their workers left, and here were these small plots of land available for the next crop of hopeful immigrants who wanted to farm. They became egg farmers mostly—you don’t need huge rich acreage for chickens—a dairy cow or two, a farm horse, a vegetable plot—you might be able to make it, especially if you could rent out rooms boardinghouse style during the summers. Without heavy industry here, this whole area could be a breath of fresh air for paying summer guests, especially your—what do you say—landtsmen who are laboring in sweat shops and factories in the city. And, of course, there were no Cossacks. Some hostile gentiles, but that’s not quite the same thing. There’s a similar egg farming community north of San Francisco, though I never thought much about it when I was living on the coast. Maybe these settlements are in other areas of the country also. At any rate, what started as summer boardinghouses to keep the farms alive expanded to hotel keeping. These folks worked their heads off and still do to keep going. They are a very cooperative community, you may have noticed.”

  “What I notice is that everyone seems to know everyone else, though I imagine it’s more than so-called small-town friendliness—if there is such a thing. I don’t know anything about small towns. Here, it seems there’s a lot behind the scenes that I’ll never see, but that I sense. Nothing bad, you understand, just a lot of quiet activity.”

  “Sometimes, not so quiet. Full of arguments, though generally peaceful. And Moe has a whole lot to do with it. Do you know what these farmer-hotelkeepers fear more than anything?”

  “No one coming here.”

  “Even more than that is fire. That’s the big one, whether from nature or arson, so insurance is of terrific importance. You can imagine how much the big insurers want to take on the risks of these precarious little dreams people have. Moe Ginsburg, the guy who is everywhere, was one of the primary movers in organizing the insurance cooperative that kept these places going. And one thing leads to another. It’s work together, help each other, or go under. What I admire is that no one is excluded. It’s Jews, the latecomers, who did this, but anyone of goodwill is welcome. That’s the way to build community, a real social order. The center of all this has been Woodridge, but it’s bound to spread.”

  “Just up your alley.” Bess stroked his face gently with her fist.

  “Well, I think that attitude springs from the same source, but I’m not giving you a lecture—I know how you love that. And, of course, I’m more of a waterfront and seaman-type guy.”

  “Whatever you are, you’re my type,” she answered.

  Leon called before they were out of bed in the morning. He and Hannah and her father-in-law, Jake Eisner, were at the hospital, along with many other well-wishers. Judith was gone. Moe was with her, though she never awakened.

  “How is he?” Vinny asked.

  “Dazed. Numb, I think. Jake wants to stay with him until his sons get here in the early afternoon. Moe and Jake are long-time friends, you know; they sojourned up here at the same time.” Leon sighed. “Anyway, why don’t you and Beth come over to the hotel for breakfast and we’ll figure things out. We need to get Jack’s folks home. If it weren’t for the father of the groom, they could go with you two. And since Hannah simply refuses to interrupt the honeymoon weekend by enlisting Jack, I guess I’ll drive them in.”

  Beth and Vinny did not stay for the immediate funeral required by Jewish tradition, but they returned for a private memorial service some weeks later. Everyone Beth had met in the Catskills was there except, happily, most of the paying guests. Even her old boss, Max, showed up, though Beth was no longer surprised by this after the mini-history lesson Vinny had provided. The tributes were moving and sincere, but the question on every mind was, who had murdered Judith? Who would want to? A man with a rifle in a nondescript black car; that was all anyone knew and all they could get from the police. No license plate, no suspects, seemingly no motive. Vinny thought this murder—this assassination—would be buried in a back file in no time flat.

  Beth was aghast. “No investigation, no motive? No justice? Why, it’s like a lynching!”

  He expelled a big breath. “If the police don’t have a motive in mind, no one who knew and respected Judith is about to suggest one. We all assume the murderer must have been the father, maybe a husband or brother, of a woman, or girl, who came to Judith in trouble. For all we know, Judith may have escorted her into the city to consult with a doctor willing to
help out. There are such courageous souls who will do procedures safely and cheaply out of conscience, and Judith knew them. The only decent response possible is for someone to carry on the work she was devoted to.” Vinny was silent for a moment. “Now that some bastard has made very clear how dangerous this is, I don’t know who that will be. But someone will, in time.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Barely two weeks after the wedding, Frima was kneeling in front of the toilet bowl for the second morning in a row. Yesterday, it could have been an upset stomach, but today again? She’d missed a period, but that wasn’t all that unusual, and she’d dismissed it as wedding nerves. How about you put two and two together, genius? A baby! She was so flabbergasted she wasn’t sure how she felt. Of course, she wanted children, and she knew Jack did. From what she had seen last summer, he was great with kids. But so soon? Should she tell anyone? No, it was too early. Not until you’re sure. They say you couldn’t be sure for the first month or so. She’d better wait a few days to see if things went back to normal.

  Normal? Now just what was that? Not this emotional seesaw. On one side was panic: oh, God, we can’t afford this, and I can’t even take care of myself, let alone a baby, and Jack is working his head off for Mama and studying for his degree, and I don’t do anything but a little typing for him or Mama and tinkle on the piano and cook and clean, and my husband barely has a moment for me until his exams are over in June. On the other side was this secret and protective elation about what might be happening inside her. Was she growing something beautiful? Of course, she or he will be beautiful with Jack and Frima as parents. She saw the three of them—such a good-looking proud couple with their beautiful bundle of joy. All the oohs and ahs, as they paraded on the Bronx avenues or on the lawns of Ellenville Isn’t it amazing what I’ve . . . we’ve . . . done? There was no such thing as normal anymore.