Lucky 13

by Cat Gardiner

  The wind whipped north from Delancey Street. It was bone chilling cold and so unlike the heat generated in the firehouse three days prior. Although encased in cashmere-lined, leather gloves, Elizabeth’s fingers still tingled from the cold, contrasting the burning hot fire she felt as she applied the baby oil to Darcy’s firm pecs. She chastised herself, Stop thinking of that!

  “Tell me again why didn’t we take a town car?” Charlotte complained through chattering teeth while her chin burrowed into her thick, wool scarf.

  “Because the subway is cheaper, that’s why. And if Stan asked why I needed to come down to Lower Manhattan in the middle of the day, I didn’t want to have to lie.”

  “So don’t lie, tell him the truth.”

  “Yeah, sure. I went to see a Jewish matchmaker. He’d love that. It’s bad enough he’s teased me mercilessly about the Foundation’s ad campaign.”

  “You have to admit, this campaign is very out of your norm. Thank God, Preppy recommended it. It’s the most action you and I have seen in months.”

  “Funny. You’re the one getting all the action.”

  “Yeah, well, you could be getting some too if you’d just get over your premature opinions.”

  They stood before their intended address, and Charlotte laughed looking up at the storefront’s sign. ‘Genesis Bridal Shop’ on the first floor. “Providential, I think.”

  “For the one-hundredth time, I’m not looking for marriage, just a date with a nice guy. Is that too much to ask? Why are you so quick to marry me off? Why does everyone want to see me married?”

  “I’m not pushing you toward anything. I’m not your mother. If I were, I would be demanding for you to elaborate on what happened between you and Darcy on Monday. You forget I saw the way you fluffed his nipples with the palm of your hand, Chica.”

  “What? You saw nothing of the sort.”

  “Oh, please … you’re in such denial about him. Between the two of you, and those heated stares – which you both tried to conceal but the camera saw – I thought you both would burst into flames.”

  “Shut up, we did not. Your camera lies.”

  “If you saw the news coverage of the photoshoot, you’d know that it wasn’t just my camera that saw it. In fact, it seems everyone saw it, including your mother, who called my mother.”

  “I’m not watching it. There’s nothing to see, and I don’t care what the heck my mother says about it. I’m not playing back her messages anymore.”

  Charlotte didn’t say it but it was on the tip of her tongue, You should. She’s telling everyone you’re engaged to Darcy. Instead, feeling fairly confident that was almost inevitable, she bit back her words.

  She pressed the intercom buzzer beside the outside door to the four-stories of walk up apartments above the bridal shop. A red, plastic label, peeling from the speaker box’s list of residents read: Sadie Finkelstein.

  “Hullow?” Sadie greeted in her thick Eastern European accent. “Hullow?”

  “It’s Charlotte Lucas, Mrs. Finklestein. We spoke last week.”

  “Fourth floor – 4A. Vatch your step.”

  A row of brass mailboxes hung on the wall of the black and white, checker tiled, narrow vestibule. Charlotte stood on the bottom landing and looked up the winding stairwell before her. “Sure, you’re the one with thighs of steel.”

  “We can always go home,” Elizabeth offered.

  “Not on your life. She’s prepared for you, Ms. Elizabeth Bennet.”

  “I can only imagine what you’ve cooked up for me.”

  “I’ll make a deal with you, Lizzy. You agree to go on your auction date with Darcy and we’ll end this right here and now.”

  “Not on your life. I’ll never agree to go out with him. He’s a narcissistic jerk and definitely not interested in me.” She ran up the flights of steps, leaving Charlotte in her dust.

  When finally they had reached the correct apartment door, Elizabeth pressed the doorbell with a tentative finger.

  The mingled smells of multi-ethnic cooking permeated the hallway. Ginger, heavy garlic and sesame competed for airspace with chicken soup and onions, all combining into some noxious, heavy fume that left both women tucking their noses into their scarves once again. It was bad enough Charlotte was out of breath from the walk up, now she was forcing the toxic air into her lungs.

  Mrs. Finkelstein opened the door wearing black, jersey knit palazzo pants and a vividly colored polyester tunic of varying shades of pink. Her beauty parlor curled and dyed blonde hair was sprayed stiff, her nails perfectly manicured. She was grandmotherly, in a hip sort of way.

  Right away, her smile and warmth disarmed Elizabeth who felt uncomfortable about this latest adventure in the world of dating. There were so many questions she had about a shadchan, a matchmaker, and she didn’t know what things were proper to ask about the deeply cultural experience. Although Charlotte had made the arrangements, Elizabeth had her doubts on whether it had been explained to the matchmaker that she wasn’t Jewish. She wondered if it even mattered.

  Holding out her black, wool mitten Charlotte greeted the smiling woman, “Hi Mrs. Finkelstein. I’m Charlotte. This is Elizabeth Bennet, my friend who I told you about over the phone.”

  “Call me Sadie. I remember – the girl with the deadline, right? Oy, G-d such a pretty girl.” Sadie pinched Elizabeth’s half-frozen, red cheek. “Vell you came to the right place. Come in, Come in.” Her arms opened widely, indicating an effusive welcome. “Velcome … let me take your coats. It’s shvitzing in here. The meshuggeneh super hasn’t fixed my radiator and it’s a hundred degrees … so hot you could fry an egg.”

  Elizabeth shrugged from her coat, and Sadie was quick to take it from her arms. “It’s nice to meet you, Sadie. Thanks for taking the time for us today.”

  “Ach, think nothing of it. Business is good … you got the time, I got the men. They’re coming outta the voodvurk to see Sadala. It’s the holidays. As soon as Hanukkah is over, all the men are tired of hearing their mammales ask vhen they’re gonna meet a nice girl.”

  Yeah, she understood that perfectly and smiled warmly at Sadie. “I feel the same way. That’s a lovely top you’re wearing.”

  “You like? You know style. Me … not so much … Mizrahi, Missoni, who knows, something like that, BUT at sixty percent off retail and such nice stitching, who can resist!"

  The friends followed Sadie through the overly decorated apartment filled with 1980s chintz covered seating framed by pink, floral curtains, which strangely all complemented her shirt. Jewish bric-a-brac known as tchotchkis and artwork chosen for color and size, gave a cozy loving feeling to the home. In an odd way, Elizabeth felt as though she was back in Meryton, only here it was warmly comforting, not nightmarish. Not a single Precious Moments figurine was in sight, just photographs and mementos.

  The radiator hissed loudly below the window. It was just as the matchmaker described, super hot in the large apartment that looked out at the Williamsburg Bridge, so close it appeared within reach.

  Charlotte and Elizabeth looked around the living room as they passed through, and Charlotte elbowed her friend, drawing her attention to the multitude of wedding photographs hanging above the sofa. They must have been couples Sadie matched over the years. Some photographs showed couples signing the Ketubah, some in un-orthodox weddings outside, but most stood under a Chuppah.

  Elizabeth stopped in the living room, gazing up in wonderment at the happy couples over the plastic covered sofa. “Sadie are these all your matches?”

  “Och, do I have a talent or vhat? Thirty years in the shidduch business and not a single divorce. Forty-two doctors, fourteen lawyers, six Rabbis … s-proud I am, as only a bubbe would be. This time next year, Elizabeth your photograph will be up there. Mark my vords … after all my hard vork … you’ll thank me and be happy with a responsible, good man.”

  “Well, I’m not really looking for marriage. Didn’t Charlotte mention – I just need a temporary kind of boyfrie
nd? Maybe he and I can enjoy the holiday season together. Nothing serious, just someone to take to dinner at my parents’ house and also to my sister’s wedding.”

  “Vedding shmedding. No … Sadala knows vhat you need.”

  Placing her strong hands on Elizabeth’s shoulders, Sadie turned her around and looked the young woman up and down while feeling her arms through her fine Armani Collezioni black suit. “Let me look at you … so skinny ... athletic … very nice, very nice.”

  Sadie removed Elizabeth’s glasses, causing the woman inches away to become one big blur before her eyes. All she heard was, “Uh G-d, such a beauty … those eyes … like emeralds, and I know emeralds. The finest emeralds are in Tel Aviv, and you can get them forty percent less than in America.”

  “Thank you.” Elizabeth shyly responded.

  Sadie winked at Charlotte. “Come, let’s sit in the kitchen – ve’ll talk – nosh a little Entenmanns. You like Entenmanns? Personally, I’m not so crazy about the cheese Danish. I’m more of a crumb person myself but there you have it, everyone likes something different. That’s vhy you are here, right? But first vee eat … then ve’ll talk.”

  Charlotte already loved this experience with Sadie. She was like the grandmother she never had. So far, she was the first person over forty who hadn’t commented on her fire engine red, spiky hair or nose piercing. Yeah, she liked Sadie and especially liked the fact that she knew, understood and wholeheartedly agreed upon exactly how today was supposed to go down. When she had explained to her about the ‘particular man’ Elizabeth should be set up with, Sadie howled with laughter – even snorted a few times. She was excited to participate in a different kind of matchmaking game. Of course, to the tune of four hundred dollars, the shadchan was more than willing to do whatever her client wanted of her – so long as it was a good match.

  The shidduch process didn’t come cheaply. Finding one’s bashert, soul mate, was serious business, a centuries old tradition, a practice ordained by G-d and a good matchmaker will do the searching. Only in this case Sadie would become the proxy after having given her approval of the said man of choice after reading his completed profile and having met Elizabeth. All the rest, all the talk, was to help make Elizabeth feel confident.

  A Formica kitchenette table filled the space of the small kitchen. White cabinets and more pink décor lined the walls and windows, which looked out onto the rooftop of the building below. The table was filled with goodies, Entenmanns, jelly donuts and assorted candy left over from Hanukkah the week before: gelt – the gold foil covered chocolate coins.

  “Sit … eat … no vonder you are so skinny … have a donut. I bought these ‘specially from Morty at Katz’s. You know Katz’s? They are vorth the schlep up to Houston Street in the bitter cold. Their sufganiyot donuts aren’t so oily, eh … a little chintzy on the jelly, but made vith superior ingredients. So I ask vhat vould you rather … a little less grease or a little more jelly?”

  Sadie sat at the head of the table, poured three cups of coffee, put three donuts on three paper plates – because “Vhy do dishes?” – She put the plates before both girls and said with proud emphasis and a knowing nod to her head, “Katz’s.”

  “Do you have children, Sadie?” Charlotte asked before biting into the heavenly sweet.

  “Do I have children? … My son – a son only a mother can love. His vife - a daughter only her own mother can love. Is one grandchild too much to ask? I only vanted him to marry a lovely Jewish girl … instead, he marries a hotshot lawyer. They live in sunny California near her parents. S-aright, I like New York in the freezing vinter, the cold doesn’t bother my arthritis so much. So vhat if I can’t valk down the four flights vithout the pain to my back. They’ll never hear me k’vetch.”

  Elizabeth and Charlotte listened attentively, while noticing the stack of papers beside Sadie’s right arm. Peeking out from behind the blank fifty-question ‘Shidduch Profile’ was a completed one. The first few lines of which intrigued Elizabeth, but she couldn’t read beyond Age: 29; Profession: Corporate Executive; Hobbies: Squash, music, philanthropy, travel, cooking.

  “Sso, tell Sadie about your last serious boyfriend, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth looked at Charlotte and thought, Ah what the hell, she knows most of it anyway. “My last serious boyfriend ended seven years ago, when I as nineteen. At the time, he hurt me pretty badly, did some dreadful things, said something obnoxious, and well, cheated, but he was young and dumb. Well afterward, I just sort of became a serial dater, never quite finding the right guy.”

  “And vhy’s that? A smart cookie like you must have them pounding on the door.”

  “Apart from the fact that they all seem to be cast from the same mold, in truth, I have no intention of getting married. Most men seem to be, I don’t know … “

  “Chicken soup vithout the matzo balls?”

  “Exactly!”

  “Vell … so you say you aren’t looking to get married. Sso, vhat do you vant – just a goy-toy? That I should be so beautiful and young … I could have my pick. Eh, sex at my age is over-rated … who needs it?”

  With both hands, Sadie fanned away from her face. “Aa! It’s farkakte. S-aright, back in the day I had my share of fellas. You’d never know it … fifty years ago in the Catskills I vas such a thing to look at. Now … you … vith that shayna punim and that body, oy vey, you’ll be beating them off vith a stick, like dogs in heat they are.”

  Elizabeth blushed, and Charlotte popped a chocolate coin in her mouth, letting it dissolve on her tongue with a huge grin upon her face. Oh this is gonna be soooo good.

  “So vhat are you looking for in a man, Elizabeth? Have you given much thought to vhat’s really important to you?”

  After wiping her hands on her napkin, Elizabeth dug into her purse. “I have, Sadie. I actually have a list of criteria.” She slid it along the edge of the table toward the matchmaker.

  “A list! Oy vey … a list isn’t going to help you find your bashert. Man plans … G-d laughs.” With that, Sadie tore the list in half and flung both parts behind her, over her shoulders. The two pieces of paper floated in the thick air made by the radiator steam until landing on the worn, linoleum kitchen floor.

  Elizabeth’s jaw went slack, and Charlotte guffawed.

  “I vant to hear from you, vhat you look for in a man … ga head … tell Sadala.”

  As though pitching a campaign to a client, Elizabeth professionally laid out, “Well, the less significant attributes would be that I would like for him to be a professional, educated, enjoy music and the arts. He should care about his body – what he eats and be active physically. Hopefully, he participates in sports to keep fit. More importantly, he needs to be someone who is kind. First and foremost, he has to have a generous heart and a caring nature. A man of character who will put himself last, not just for his family, but also in everything he does because he cares about others. He can’t be selfish or egotistical. I’d like a man who makes people laugh, someone who has a good sense of humor. Those are the most important things.”

  She chuckled. “And if this perfect person can be handsome – well that’s a plus!”

  “All that just for a dinner date? You’re one precise cookie, but your heart speaks … beautiful … just beautiful. Sadie waived her hands before her face. “Look at me - I’m verklempt. You’re looking for a real mensch, and I think I have just the man who is looking for a nice girl just like you. A nice man, a good catch.”

  “So soon?”

  “Trust me … I look at some of these cockamamie couples on the street, and I think vhat is he doing vith that dreck? They von’t last a year if a day. Had they only come to me, I know matches, and I know vhat a man is looking for and bubele, you have vhat a good man is looking for. Look, the men today they vant their fun, s-aright … a little plaything on the side before they settle down … it von’t hurt them, but the ones who come to me … they know vhat they vant … playtime is over. They’re gonna love ya. Uh, just look
at that punim, such a shayna maidel. So … tell me … do you keep kosher?

  “Um … no.” Elizabeth shook her head stiffly, wondering if she should tell Sadie straight away that she wasn’t Jewish.

  “No kosher? S-aright … not everyone keeps kosher. You go to shul, right?”

  Again, she shook her head, not knowing what “shul” was. “No, I don’t.”

  “Sso … you don’t always go to shul. That doesn’t make you a bad person. At least you keep Sabbath, right?

  “I don’t. Sometimes I have to work.”

  “Oy... S-aright, it’s not so hahrrable. Vell then, exactly how Jewish are you … do you at least cook Jewish? A nice kugel can go a long way.”

  Elizabeth smiled brightly. “I love to cook!”

  “Now, ve’re getting somevhere.” Holding up the blank profile questionnaire, Sadie showed her the fifty questions. “Take your time, fill this out and answer honestly. Charlotte and I vill be in the next room.”

  She grabbed the stack of papers beside her and motioned to Charlotte. “Come … vee don’t vant to disturb her. If the questions get muddled, eat something … it’ll clear your keppe.”

  Elizabeth pulled her Santa pencil from her handbag, and began to make quick work of the questionnaire before her. She was so excited, her heart beat rapidly. She had a good feeling about this. Religion was of no importance, just meeting a man to enjoy the season and bring in the New Year with was all she wanted. Forever wasn’t even a word she wanted to consider at this point in time. Heck if it happened, great, but she wasn’t about to pin her hopes on that at this stage of the game. She knew enough about herself to know that finding, what Sadie called her fate - her bashert, would come from a whole lot more than a questionnaire and a shadchan.