She slid off the bed. “I am now going back to reading and wiping this conversation from my mind.”
“’Bye,” Joe said.
At the door, Sophie turned back. “Wait. So inCheaper by the Dozen …”
“Oh, I’ve heard of this book,” I said. “I’d like to read it, for it sounds most amusing.”
“Well, anyway,” Sophie said. “Are you saying they did thattwelvetimes?”
“It’s much worse than that, I’m afraid,” Joe said. “Married people do it quite a bit. It’s generally considered one of the main benefits.”
Sophie said, “That’s it. I’m never getting married. I may become a nun.”
“You’re Jewish,” Joe said.
“I’ll convert,” she said. And left.
Joe and I had been meant to go home on the train after sunset. This didn’t happen, because of his illness. We also didn’t hear from Mr. and Mrs. Stark, due to the telephone issue and Yom Kippur. When the sun had set, I heated the soup again and toasted two bagels (pretending we’d all waited, obviously), and Sophie and I ate at the kitchen table most companionably but not at all religiously, since we were each reading a novel at the time. (I’d been rightandwrong about the murderer, I soon discovered, but it had been a most entertaining and clever mystery.)
I was upstairs with Joe again afterward, readingCheaper by the Dozen—a very diverting book—while he dozed, when I heard the sound of the door. A moment later, Sophie was clattering down the stairs, saying, “Well?” And I put my head over the banisters to listen.
“A beautiful baby boy,” Mrs. Stark said. “Such a little man. A lovely baby.”
“Other than his head being pointed like a cone,” Mr. Stark said. “Oddest-looking thing I’ve ever seen. The doctor says it’ll smooth out again.That’sa relief. Otherwise, he’d have had to wear a hat every day of his life.”
“The doctor told you,” Mrs. Stark said with a snap in her voice, “that that’s because of the journey through the birth canal. Of course his poor head was squeezed.”
“I don’t want to imagine my grandson’s journey through the birth canal, thank you,” Mr. Stark said.
I was downstairs now, saying, “But this is wonderful news. How very exciting. What is his name?”
“Samuel Isaac,” Mrs. Stark said. “A beautiful name. The ‘Isaac’ is after David’s grandfather, but David assured me that the next baby will be named for Barbara’s side.” She was unpinning her hat as she spoke, and looking very tired.
“May I prepare dinner for you?” I asked. “You must both be exhausted, and very hungry. Waiting, I think, is one of the most tiring things.”
“Yes, thank you, dear,” Mrs. Stark said. “In the kitchen? I feel like I can’t walk another step.”
“Then you must not,” I said. “And perhaps a special glass with dinner? In Germany, this would beSekt,which is like Champagne, you know, but this is not the most soothing of beverages. Brandy, though?”
“Brandy and soda,” Mr. Stark said, reviving a bit. “I’ll fix them. For you too, Lena?”
“Yes,” she said, “this once. Oh!” She’d been headed for the kitchen, but now, she turned back. “How is Joe? And I forgot about the necklace. That was tonight, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said, joining her in the kitchen and pulling an apron from the hook, “though I don’t expect that Mr. Stark will hear anything until tomorrow. Joe is feeling a little better,I believe, although too ill to go home on the train tonight.” The butterflies in my stomach fluttered their wings at the thought of the necklace. I’d tried not to think about it, but that had been about as successful as such efforts generally were.
“Jacob will drive you home tomorrow morning,” Mrs. Stark said. “Unless you’d rather stay here, where I could help look after Joe.”
“Oh, Jacob will, will he?” Mr. Stark said. He was removing ice from the metal tray with the usual rattle. He was still ill-tempered, possibly because his jaw was blue with stubble, making him look quite disreputable. “Nice of you to dispose of my time like that.”
“Very well,” Mrs. Stark said,“I’lldrive them home, although I’dplannedto be at the hospital with Barbara for part of the day.”
Mr. Stark, busy with the brandy bottle and soda siphon, said, “Don’t be ridiculous. You know you don’t trust yourself on that long drive.”
“I knowyoudon’t trust me, anyway,” Mrs. Stark said.
I was stirring soup and toasting bagels while attempting to appear like part of the furniture. I did feel I should say, though, “We must leave tomorrow, for Joe will be anxious to get back to his books, even if he’s too unwell for class. Also, I wouldn’t wish to have germs in your house, not with a new baby in the family.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, dear,” Mrs. Stark said, sitting down at the table with a sigh and accepting a tumbler from her husband. “I do think you’re right.”
