The bell over the door chimed and another woman walked in.
“Who’s on first?” Jonah chuckled.
Robby faltered. Froze. His smile stuttered as she marched right up to the table. In Converse, frayed jeans, and a hoodie. Cheeks pink from the cold, short pixie tousled from the wind. Sliding right in next to her sister. Now they both leaned forward to do the talking.
Robby sat back like he’d been hit with a tranquilizer dart.
“We’re both lucky bastards,” Shel commented. “I’d hate to be in his shoes right now.”
In the end, Rob Levin, the boy from Brooklyn, folded pretty quick.
“Folded?” Jonah interrupted. “It looked like he’d aged about ten years in thirty seconds.”
“Well, once he realized he couldn’t tell who was who sitting across from him, who posed with him, who he tricked into signing and how we tracked down all the proof…” Tzipi laundry-listed, stealing a salty caper from the serving plate.
"—Folded," Kara repeated, gesturing with her coffee mug. "Like a cheap suit."
"Like a cheap Hanukkah suit," Tzipi corrected, grinning at Jonah.
"Hey, my suit is a treasure."
"Your suit looks like a disco ball had a baby with a menorah," Shel pointed out. "But we love it anyway." He slung his arm across his wife’s shoulders.
"I still can't believe you two pulled that off," Jonah said. "The twin switch. Very Parent Trap."
"We've had practice," Kara said, sliding the torn halves of the contract across the table as Tzipi tore into some warm challah bread. "Although usually it was to get out of piano lessons, not to take down washed-up actors."
"He's not washed up," Tzipi said. "He's just... struggling."
"He tried to scam you."
"I know. But I also remember him sneaking me candy on set when I was scared of the dark." She sighed. "People are complicated."
And Bobby “Blue” Bloom had never been the sharpest crayon in the box.
He’d seemed genuinely shocked to find out that maybe he wasn’t the only “bad actor” in ChaiCycle – especially concerning the Kosher certification, and the phony Certificates of Analysis. That was when he caved. Deleted the video and ripped up the contract.
“I told him I would put him in touch with some legit product manufacturers and Kosher certifiers I know through That’s A Wrap, Folks…”
“But after that, he’s never to contact either of us again.” Kara finished.
“Let’s just hope he doesn’t manifest his wish for a Room to Bloom reunion show,” Tzipi muttered.
Kara laughed at the thought. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“And speaking of bridges…” Jonah moved the challah and the latkes out of Tzipi’s reach. “We’ll have to hit the road to Westchester before the evening commute. So if hair, makeup and wardrobe need to happen, kids…” He clapped his hands. “Chop-chop. And you need to save your appetite. Jay and Talia’s parents and their eighth night Hanukkah dinner waits for no one…and is serious eats. You ready?”
Tzipi was.
Here goes everything.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jonah had been coming to the Katz house in Westchester for over a decade — every Hanukkah since the group had gotten back from their Year Course trip. Where Eli had declared them a family and somehow made it stick.
So many years of eighth nights in this warm, elegant house where every piece of furniture had a story and every wall held three generations of family photos. With Mrs. Katz's brisket and Mr. Katz's one terrible dreidel joke and the menorah burning bright in the dining room window.
But he'd never shown up with someone before.
