Of course, the rock star spoke impeccable French. Thankfully, it went right over the proprietors’ heads.
“For families. We renovated in the early 90s when honeymooners started coming back to show their kids – and their grandkids – the Falls.”
“That’s sweet. And thank you foraccommodatingus on such short notice.” Leah made sure to emphasize the word for Avi’s sake, given his preoccupation.
“Now, I’ll admit, we don’t get many tourists here in the winter, so the rooms are a bit chilly. But we cranked the central furnace up right after you booked, so they should heat up nicely.”
Chilly was an understatement. Leah swore a breeze colder than the outside air greeted her when she unlocked and entered her room. So much so that she hurried to check the windows. All sealed…but wow, the view of the lit Falls was impressive, even at a distance. This must’ve been some hotspot back in the Horowitz heyday.
Now, its color palette was a bit dated, and amenities were basic. But the Bit O’ Honey was clean and quiet. The queen-sized bed awaiting her looked comfortable. And for the first time in over twelve hours, she was alone.
Although very aware Avi Wolfson was in the next room.
Touring the world, he probably stayed in more hotels per year than in his own bed. But no doubt he was used to much more luxurious digs. With much more glamorous girls. Ladies who didn’t wear fleece pajama bottoms, she thought, as she dug her heaviest pair out of her overnight bag and pulled them on. Sylvie was probably allergic to fleece.
Leah reached for the tin of rugelach, setting it on the bedside table. While it was a hearty pastry, the thought of it freezing overnight in some car lot didn’t sit well with her. So she had stashed it in her crossbody bag while Avi was having his parking lot Meet and Greet.
On a whim, she had also grabbed one of the Mahjong kits. It wouldn’t make it to their first influencer as planned, but at least she could stage a picture using it. Plus worst-case scenario, if someone broke into Bertha overnight, at least she’d have one product sample for on board the Matzo Baller.
A knock came to the interior door. Leah unlocked it to find Avi, the menorah in one hand and two red candles in the other.
“On loan from the front desk.” He grinned, setting it all down on the small dinette table. “They didn’t have any Hanukkah candles, but I figured since Kwanzaa doesn’t begin until after Christmas, there would be time to re-stock.”
Leah didn’t question his logic or his possible dubious interfaith borrowing of holiday paraphernalia. Even a first-night menorah was a known heat source.
“Does your room…” she dwindled, trying to keep her teeth from chattering
“Have the identical meat locker aesthetic? Yes.”
“Tell me you have matches, a lighter, two sticks to rub together. Anything.”
“The 90s renovation comes through.” He produced a brown matchbook bearing the Bit O’ Honey logo and phone number embossed in gold from his pocket. “There’s probably one in every ashtray, in every room. For all the resident ghosts with pack-a-day habits.”
The Kwanzaa candle was a good fit, but Avi still struck a match to melt a little of the wax to secure it to its base. He held theshamashwhile Leah lit it. Their voices, in synch and intertwined, began the familiar blessing. Leah stared at the flame as they chanted, watching its arc of light as Avi touched it to the first night’s candle.
She’d observed those fingers from her driver’s side: running habitually through his mane of hair, fiddling with the heat dials in the car. Or drumming against the steering wheel to the beat of their road trip playlist and resting easily on the gearshift during his time behind the wheel. Then prying the lid off Mrs. Horowitz’s urn when it had mentally and physically eluded her.
Now, they mesmerized her as he slowly rotated theshamashabove the lit candle, softening its wax bottom before placing it in its holder.
“Happy first night, Gellman.”
“You too.”
Avi moved toward the interior door.
“Wait. I have a present for you.” She rummaged in her toiletry kit, producing a new toothbrush. “I always carry a spare.”
“In Hanukkah blue, even.” He accepted it graciously. “Thank you.” With his hand on the doorknob, he turned. “Do I have to wait until the second night of Hanukkah for toothpaste?”
She laughed. “It’s on the bathroom counter. Help yourself.”
She warmed her hands near the flames, wondering if Kwanzaa candles burned down as quickly as most Hanukkah candles. The water ran, then stopped. Then ran again. “Do you hear that?” Avi called.
“The faucet?”
“No, the Falls.”
Sure enough, there was a constant hum, a distant roaring rush. It was there when Avi shut off the tap and came back into the room.
