Bess and Frima

by Alice Rosenthal

  “I have to say, Frima, that I vastly prefer beach vacations. We could spend a couple of weeks at the Jersey shore or out on Long Island or Far Rockaway. It would be fun for the kids and easier for us. I know you’re not crazy about sand and salt water, but I bet you’d come to like the beach more, and you could read and relax to your heart’s content. I’m sure we can find a place with enough trees and grass to suit you. Also, that way I could continue working the rest of the summer. They need people to teach summer school or tutor. And we could use the money, right?”

  “I don’t actually see why you have to work in the hot city most of the summer, but I can’t force you go to the farm, if you truly don’t like it. Funny, I thought it really had a place in your heart.”

  “It did, but we all have to grow up, you know. Both you and your mother are entirely sentimental about those acres of ground. It isn’t really a farm anymore, and it can’t compete with the more luxurious hotels.”

  “The whole point is that it doesn’t want to compete with the bigger resort hotels, and it does quite nicely being what it is.”

  “Well, you can’t start a family dynasty up there. It’s completely impractical—you can see that, can’t you, honey?”

  Honey, my eye! I can see, she had thought resentfully, that you are being patient and reasonable because you know you’ve already got your way.

  The ball game began, and Jack listened intently to it on the car radio. Frima had given up wondering how he could possibly be so engrossed in the game and drive at the same time, but evidently this was a feat easily mastered by baseball fans, which she and her daughters were not. Invariably the female members of the household wandered off or nodded off to the unending roar of the crowd. Today, she was glad not to have to make conversation while the game was on. She was still sore about Jack’s disloyalty to Eisner’s, and she wanted time to muster a powerful argument to counter his. She wasn’t quite sure why, since the farm was being sold, anyway.

  She waited until they had arrived in Ellenville and were preparing for bed to continue her argument. “You say Mama and I are romantic about Eisner’s. Well, it’s because we have loved it. I’m not in the least ashamed of feeling sentimental and nostalgic about this place. But I can’t see either of those feelings as driving my mother. She loves it and is proud of it, eyes wide open. And she certainly created a thriving business here.”

  “So I’ve noticed, and so she’s told me often—and in more detail than I care to know.”

  “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, we’ve had some discussion about whether you and I would want to take over the place. I told her that realistically it wasn’t a possibility.” Jack stifled a yawn.

  “We? Where was I during this discussion? I wasn’t to have some say in this?” She wanted to shout at him, but kept her voice down. The walls were thin.

  “Now, Frima, be reasonable.”

  “I’m sick and tired of being reasonable. All that means is letting you have your way.”

  Clearly prepared for this, Jack launched into a speech. A highly aggrieved one, though he kept his voice down. “I’m trying to do what’s best for my family! I want you and the kids to be able to walk the streets, having the whole neighborhood and community around you. I don’t want them or you to have to wait for a school bus or a ride to go to a store or movie. The girls shouldn’t have to think buying a hot dog or an ice cream cone is a big event. And even more, I want them to grow up in safety with their own kind—knowing that they are Jews and proud of it. Yeah, there are Jews in the Catskills, but they’re mostly summer people. What kind of kids would they grow up with and what kind of schools would they go to? And, yes, I want them to feel superior. Every other people feel that about themselves. They should honor their religion, their traditions. And I want my wife to have the luxury of being a full-time wife and mother. I don’t want to see her slaving away in a store like my own mother. Or in a hotel, for that matter. You know how hard your mother works. She’s barely has time to sleep.”

  “Okay, I get the point.” She removed herself to the bathroom. Oh, he was good at this! He had a positive talent for self-righteousness, and she wasn’t skilled at countering this with noble sentiments of her own. And manipulative—my God! Did she have to be hit over the head with a hammer before she got it? Prime example: that famous episode just after the war. Jack never had the slightest real desire to risk his life aiding the Haganah to rescue Jewish refugees. He just wanted Frima to think he did and adamantly object to his doing any such thing. That way he was off the hook. He could get credit for courage and the right sentiments and win her gratitude for the sacrifice of his ideals. After all, he was only doing what was best for his family. And he could get rid of the piano, as well! Two seconds later, the reflexive reaction: was she being too harsh? And then her new answer: so what?

  Odd, but she felt quite tranquil after she had deciphered all of this. She was armed with insight, at least, and it gave her some power. So no more arguments tonight. Talking to Mama, now, that was something else altogether. She’d have plenty to say to her about leaving Frima out of the decisions about so vital a part of her life. She’d wait until Jack left for the city on Sunday, and then she’d demand an explanation.

  As soon as she saw the exhaust of Jack’s car Sunday, she went in search of her mother. There was a rare lull in activity this pre-season afternoon hour. She spied Leon grabbing a nap in a hammock with a newspaper shading his balding pate from the sun, which meant Mama would most likely be alone in her office.

  “We need to talk, Mama. Let’s go for a walk. Whatever you’re doing can wait an hour or so. I’ll help you later.”

  Seeing her sober face, Mama rose instantly and joined her. They walked some way down the wooded lane, until Frima finally broke the silence.

  “There’s something that I can’t understand, and it really bothers me,” Frima began. “I hear you had some talk with Jack about our taking over the hotel, and you didn’t consult me. I had no say in the fate of this place that’s meant so much to me. I can’t believe you would do that—do you think I’m a child, an idiot?” Frima had rehearsed this opening in private, for she wanted to appear calm and adult about this, yet she found herself fighting tears.

  Mama looked pained and was silent for some moments. She guided Frima to a log where they could sit down and took her hands into her own. She began to speak haltingly with many pauses, not at all her decisive, managerial style.

  “I’m so very sorry that I’ve hurt you by doing this. And in no way was it because I don’t value your opinion. Of course, you aren’t a child or an idiot—quite the opposite. In many ways I feel that you are the one with the adult strength and intelligence—expansiveness of mind—in your household. Forgive me for saying this, but it’s the way I feel.”

  “Then why wasn’t I consulted?”

  “Perhaps that was a mistake. It was difficult to know what to do, but I thought I should test the waters with Jack first. If he were absolutely against the idea of taking over the enterprise there was no way it was going to happen, regardless of how you felt about it, and it would only cause bad feelings. I would be putting myself between you and your husband, and I didn’t want to do that. I know how attached you are to this piece of earth of ours—or I should say that was ours—which was why I approached him in the first place, though I was pretty sure he would refuse the offer. Jack was adamant, so I thought it better not to pursue it.”

  Frima was silent. There was truth here.

  Seeing her daughter’s face, Mama sighed, then continued, choosing her words carefully. “Your husband is not a man who likes to take risks. I believe you know this, my dear, and maybe better than I. He is . . . how shall I say this? Very aware of his personal safety zone, and he defends it carefully and well. He wants safety and comfort for himself and his family, a conservative at heart and quite conventional in his vision of what a family should be.”

  “Maybe because he never really ha
d a family before now.”

  Mama nodded her head in agreement.

  “You don’t like Jack very much, do you, Mama. I never realized.”

  “You shouldn’t think that. Jack is a good man. He works hard for you and the girls and he is affectionate and devoted to his family. He’s hard not to like, he’s so attractive and intelligent and engaging.”

  “But?”

  “I don’t always approve of him—a mother-in-law’s prerogative, you know. And, well, we all have our ways, Frima.”

  “And his are?”

  “He is sometimes selfish. Now don’t look at me like that. I don’t mean with his money or his time. It’s just that he is very fond of his own way, and adept at persuading us that his way is best.”

  “You don’t mean us; you mean me, don’t you? And just what is it that you think he has persuaded me to do?”

  “Well, your piano, for instance. Why is it here where you can hardly touch it?”

  “Oh, that. You know there was no room for it in the city.”

  Mama went no further. She saw very well that her daughter had just shut the door again. “It’s really cooling off. Look at those clouds. Maybe we should get back before we are drenched,” she said.

  They walked back arm in arm, not hurrying but moving apace. Reaching the lobby, they were surprised that the staff was already setting up for dinner. Frima glanced at her watch. They had been gone for well over an hour. Yet they had said so few words, really. Their meaning and connection were in the silences between the words, permeating and swelling in stillness, like the rain filling the air.

  CHAPTER 27

  “I’ve got a surprise for you,” Mama announced the next morning. She sat on the porch swing, motioning Frima to sit besides her. “Beth just called me. She wanted to know if there would be room for her and Eduardo to come up for a week. I told her there would always be room for them, so they are coming up next Sunday, actually.”

  Frima’s face brightened. “They are both coming? Why, that’s super! But aren’t we full up?”

  “Leon and I have a home, you know, a stone’s throw from here, and we can manage quite nicely. Most of our personal stuff is already there. All I need to do is empty a couple of drawers, and they can have our room and bath right here in the main house.”

  “Now that’s service,” Frima said with a grin.

  “Well, Beth says that Eduardo has been working like a man possessed, and she has insisted that he take a week off. And she, herself, wanted to be here one more time before Eisner’s is no more. Eduardo has never been to the Catskills, and he’s quite curious about the region. And I’m very curious to meet him. I hope this place isn’t too lowbrow for him.”

  “I doubt it. Eduardo is very intelligent and educated, but from what I know of him, he’s an easy guy to be with. Quite genuinely courteous and unassuming. I think you’ll like him very much, indeed.”

  “If he loves Beth, that’s good enough for me. However, Jack, we all know, does not approve of him or of Beth’s attachment to him.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Jack,” Frima said, with surprising ease. “My husband may like things the way he likes them, but he’s not stupid. He knows when he’s outnumbered, and he’ll behave himself. Besides they’ll only have a little time in each other’s company. After all, they arrive on Sunday morning and Jack leaves for the city on Sunday afternoon.”

  They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and Frima kicked off her sandals. “I’m only sorry Eduardo won’t get a chance to meet Grandpa, Moe, and Judith, poor woman. They’re all gone. All of them the genuine article, if you know what I mean.”

  “Excuse me?” Mama retorted. “But Leon and I are also the genuine article—even you!” She smiled good-naturedly as she said this, and Frima grinned back.

  “Yup, that’s me—Jewish pioneer in the New World—the genuine article. Now I guess I’d better collect my offspring, who certainly are no such articles, and tell them that breakfast is served.” She slid her feet into her sandals, then turned again suddenly to face her mother. “You know, maybe Beth will take Eduardo to meet Max. Now he’s the real goods!”

  Mama watched her move buoyantly down the path. My daughter, she can tiptoe through the tulips, but there’s steel in her, I know it. I hope she never needs it, but I’m very glad it’s there.

  Frima had judged shrewdly. The meeting of the adversaries was entirely civil, if not overflowing with warmth. Beth and Eduardo arrived at about ten in the morning, having gotten up in the middle of the night, according to Beth. Frima and Mama greeted the couple like long-lost, beloved relatives. Jack ambled over in his bathing trunks with a towel around his shoulders. He kissed Beth lightly on the cheek and shook hands with Eduardo. Then he casually excused himself.

  “Sorry, folks, gotta take my little bathing beauties swimming. And, oh, Hannah, I’ll bring the kids back for lunch, but none for me. I have to get back to the city early today.”

  “Do you want the kitchen to pack a lunch for you?”

  “Maybe just a sandwich. I ate a ton of breakfast.” Then, turning to Frima, he added, “See you in a couple of hours, honey.”

  She was impressed. His busy schedule was clearly by his own design, but he was handling things well. He wasn’t falling all over himself with friendliness, but what could you expect? Still, she wasn’t sorry to see him leave. Ordinarily she would have missed him, especially during what she still sometimes thought of as romantic summer nights. But now a five-day interval without him was like a vacation from school.

  She and Beth together were like school girls. As soon as Jack was gone, they sat down with the others for lunch and begin cracking themselves up with Borscht Belt jokes.

  “You heard this one?” Beth started. “A garment worker boards the train in Hoboken on route to the mountains. A hoity-toity conductor is punching tickets, when he comes to the man sitting in an aisle seat with a large suitcase obstructing his way. The man is happily singing to himself:

  “‘Yoo, hoo, hoo! Going to the Catskills, Ah, hah-hah, lying in the sun.’

  “‘Sir, your suitcase is in my way. Kindly remove it.’

  “‘Yoo, hoo, hoo! Going to the Catskills.’

  “‘Remove that bag at once, sir. If it’s here when I come back down the aisle, I’m gonna throw it off the train. Do you understand me?’

  “‘Hoo, hah! I’m going to the Catskills! Yoo, hoo, hoo, I’m gonna sleep so late!’

  “‘I don’t care where you’re going, move that suitcase—you should have stowed it before we left the station! It’s still here? Okay, I warned you!’

  “‘Hoo boy, I’m gonna eat like a schoolboy. Ah, hah, five pounds I’ll gain.’

  “The conductor grabs the suitcase and throws it off the train. ‘There, how do you like that?’

  “‘Ah hah, hah, going to the Catskills. Hoo boy, dhat is not my valise!’”

  “How about the Moskovitz Diamond?” Frima suggested.

  “Enough! You’ll give us all indigestion,” warned Mama.

  After lunch Frima and Beth decided on a stroll. Eduardo opted for a book and a lawn chair.

  “This man is without doubt the most physically lazy creature alive,” said Beth, turning to Hannah. “He exercises only his eyes and his fingers at the typewriter, eats like a horse, yet remains thin and fit. It’s disgusting!” she said lovingly.

  “A most irritating trait,” Hannah agreed. Then she turned to Eduardo. “Do you mind if I sit here for a few minutes? I don’t want to interrupt your reading.”

  “Please do,” he said, gesturing to the seat next to him with a smile. “It’s my pleasure to get to know one of Beth’s most formative influences. She calls you a light in the darkness.”

  “Does she?” Hannah was pleased. “But she doesn’t seem to be in the dark now. She looks beautiful and happy walking in the sunshine.” Her eyes followed the two friends as they walked down the path from the house.

  “To me she’s beautiful even on the dark days.
But I think she is talking about her childhood and adolescence, when you were one of the rare adults who encouraged her. She sees her young girlhood as Dickensian.”

  Hannah chuckled. “Not exactly a workhouse child, but she felt she was an ugly duckling and unappreciated. And then there was that big handsome brother, who could do no wrong. I knew she would be a beauty in her own time, and I always thought she was gifted, like my own daughter, only different.”

  Eduardo nodded. “They are quite different, but complementary—lovely to see them together.”

  “You do understand!”

  “I understand from Beth that Frima is a gifted pianist.”

  “Yes, I believe she truly is. But she plays very little now.”

  “Is that her piano in the house? It looks like a fine instrument.”

  “As fine as her father and I could afford at the time. That piano used to be the most important object in her city home, but she shipped it up here, where it soon will be unavailable to her. I’ve begged her to take it back, but I don’t think that will happen. Jack . . . her family . . . doesn’t think there is room for it.”

  “Do you think she might play something for us some evening? Forgive me if I’m talking out of turn.”

  “She might, if you asked her and it was before the weekend.”

  They exchanged glances but said nothing more. Edward offered her a cigarette, which she declined. “Don’t mind me,” Hannah said, embarrassed, “I’m the one who’s speaking out of turn. I’d better get back to the office and let you get on with your book.”

  “Oh, don’t go yet—not without telling me.” Eduardo, said, rising politely.

  “Telling you what?”

  “About the Moskovitz Diamond.”

  Mama shook her head gently. “Now, now, no more Borscht Belt jokes.”