Several margaritas later, Natalie had gone down to the Bernsteins’ basement to tell her kids the party was over.
J.J. was on the sofa, his attention fixed on the TV, while Justin played with a LEGO set in the corner. Jill was on the floor with her back pressed against the sofa. Charles was on his knees, facing Jill. He wore a striped shirt that made him look like Ronald McDonald.
“Hold on, Mom,” Jill had said without turning around. “I want to see if he can pick my card.”
Charles had fanned the cards in his hand and made a big show of selecting one. He flipped it over, his face shining with hope. “Behold! I give you the jack of hearts.”
Jill shook her head. “I had the jack of diamonds.”
Natalie had looked at her pretty, golden-haired children and felt a stab of sympathy for Charles. Having produced thewrong card, his cheeks were aflame. He ran a hand through his wavy red hair, and it stuck up in peaks like a torch.
She might have said something kind to Charles, this ugly boy with no friends, but the nearly empty popcorn bowl next to Jill’s leg had caught her eye.
That girl eats every second I’m not watching her!
“Let’s go, Jill,” she’d barked. “Clean up your mess, all of you, and then come upstairs and say good night to Mr. and Mrs. Bernstein.”
“I can show you another trick,” she’d heard Charles whisper to Jill. “It’ll take two seconds! I was saving my best for last.”
Natalie knew Charles had a crush on her daughter. She also knew that Jill couldn’t wait to escape the Bernsteins’ basement. Jill felt sorry for Charles and was never mean to him, but his obsequiousness made her squirm. Natalie had barely made it out to the patio when Jill appeared, holding Justin’s hand, and politely thanked Elaine before heading down the hill toward home.
“I’m glad they’re doing swim team together again this year,” Elaine had said after Jill left. “Charles is doing sailing camp, too. He doesn’t want to, but Benjamin insisted. Are J.J. and Jill sailing, too?”
“They are. I need to fill their days because I’ll be at work and Una will have enough on her hands taking care of Justin, the house, and the dogs.”
The Bernsteins didn’t have any pets. Elaine claimed that Charles was allergic to pet dander, but Natalie didn’t believe her. Elaine just didn’t want a cat or dog scratching the white leather sofas or shedding on the cream-colored shag rugs. Elaine’s house was photoshoot ready at all times, as if she were constantly anticipating a magazine spread.
To be fair, the Bernsteins’ home had been featured in magazines. Six of them, to be precise, a fact which Elaineseemed to mention at every yacht club dinner and neighborhood party.
Elaine was enormously proud of their big, blocky, modern house. She loved to talk about its architectural details, the art hanging from its walls, or how the light passed through the banks of floor-to-ceiling windows to warm the spacious rooms.
Working with a team of decorators from Manhattan, Elaine had filled the house with Lucite, chrome, and glass. She’d rejected the trendy Laura Ashley prints, pastel walls, and bold geometric rugs in favor of an elevated art deco look. Everything had been painstakingly chosen, from the living room lamps to the salad bowls.
The Bernsteins were the wealthiest family in the neighborhood. If Elaine wanted something, she got it.
Benjamin was nothing like Jimmy. Natalie was always explaining why she’d spent money on new swimsuits, shoes, and school supplies for the kids. At the end of every month, when Jimmy went through the bills, he’d grumble about various doctor, dentist, or orthodontist visits. Natalie would keep her temper until he asked her to justify the price of women’s haircuts or asked why she needed more perfume when he’d gotten her a bottle from the duty-free shop last year.
“This is why I want to go back to work!” she’d snap every time. “I’m sick of sitting here, like I’m being called into the principal’s office, and explaining every item on the Visa bill. I want my own money so we don’t have to do this ever again!”
Elaine shopped at Lord & Taylor. Natalie shopped at Macy’s. For once, she’d like to spend money the way Elaine did. She’d like to hand her Visa card to the clerk with the disinterested ease of someone who could do whatever she wanted. Who could buy things without guilt. Who could take pleasure in shopping for herself.
Looking at the petunias in her wagon, Natalie decided toinvest a few hundred dollars making the McCreedys’ house look good. She was impatient to get started, but first, she needed to find out what was bothering Elaine.
“What’s wrong with Charles?”
“Nothing’s wrong withhim. It’s his bar mitzvah.”
Inwardly, Natalie rolled her eyes. She’d been hearing about this bar mitzvah for six months. It was all Elaine talked about, which was why Natalie already knew that there’d be a ceremony at Temple Beth-El followed by the biggest, most memorable soiree in Cold Harbor history.
“For one night, we want to be the Jewish version of Jay Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan,” Benjamin had said one night over dinner.
Jimmy assumed his friend was joking, but Natalie knew he wasn’t. Elaine had converted her entire dining room into her bar mitzvah “war room.” The table was covered in articles, magazine clippings, a desk calendar, and a chalkboard listing possible themes. One by one, the themes had been crossed off. Safari, outer space, arcade, candy factory, pioneers, underwater, punk rock, rock climbing, travel around the world—they’d all been rejected.
“I thought you found a great party planner and everything was going well,” Natalie said, noting the shadows under Elaine’s eyes.
“It was. Wefinallycame up with a theme, and I’m ready to have the invitations printed. However, there’s a hitch, and it’s Mrs. Smith. If we weren’t in public, I’d call her something that rhymes withhitch.”
Natalie was intrigued. Elaine expected Charles’s social status to do a total one-eighty because of this bar mitzvah, and she was so used to getting what she wanted that Natalie couldn’t wait to hear how the neighborhood recluse was standing in her way.
