Mrs. Smith felt every eye on her as she ordered a Manhattan from the bartender.
“Do you have a bourbon preference?” he asked.
Mrs. Smith gave him a reproachful look. “I prefer rye.”
Benjamin nodded in approval. “Rye is what they used back in the day. Did you know that the cocktail you just ordered was invented at the Manhattan Club in the 1870s at a party hosted by Jennie Churchill, Winston Churchill’s mother?”
Mrs. Smith shook her head. “Impossible. At the time ofthe party, which was thrown to honor presidential candidate Samuel Tilden, Jennie Churchill was in England, preparing to give birth to her famous son.”
“How do you know that?” asked Elaine.
“Having spent a good part of my life indoors has made me a voracious reader.” She smiled warmly at Elaine. “How is your son’sd’var Torahcoming along?”
Elaine lit up with delight. “You’re familiar with the bar mitzvah ceremony?”
Mrs. Smith dipped her chin. “I am. Such a sacred rite of passage should be celebrated on a large scale. I’m looking forward to wishing your sonmazel tovin person.”
“Just two weeks to go,” crooned Elaine.
Mrs. Smith took a delicate sip of her cocktail. Then she speared the cherry with the tip of the stirrer and held it between her plump lips. The Scotts and Bernsteins were hypnotized by the sight of her mouth closing around the bright red cherry.
“How many guests will be in attendance?” she asked after swallowing the cherry whole.
“Over three hundred,” boasted Elaine. “We invited the whole synagogue, people from Benjamin’s company, Charles’s school, and everyone on our street. We’re a tight-knit group on Tidewater Terrace, and we’re happy to welcome you into the fold.”
Natalie held up her glass. “I can’t raise a toast to you as Mrs. Smith. What’s your first name?”
“Mare.”
“Like the horse?” asked Jimmy. His face was alcohol-flushed, and he wore a lopsided grin. Natalie shot him a dirty look.
“As in Latin for ‘the sea,’” corrected Mrs. Smith.
The two couples raised their glasses to Mrs. Smith.
Elaine put her empty glass on the bar and was about to speak again when her attention was suddenly diverted. Her smile slipped and she turned to Natalie and whispered, “Don and Beth just walked in.”
“Uh-oh.” Natalie grabbed her husband by the arm. “Quick. Buy Don a drink and take him to the lounge.”
“Why?”
“Please, Jimmy. Just do it.”
While Jimmy ordered a whiskey neat, Benjamin gave his wife a puzzled look. “What’s going on?”
“Tsuris.Natalie and I will handle it.” Elaine put a hand to her heart. “Excuse us, Mare.”
The women hurried away, leaving Mrs. Smith alone with Benjamin Bernstein. Unlike most men, he was unaffected by her beauty.
He is used to beauty, she thought.His wife is like a ghost jellyfish, ethereal and elegant, but lacking in substance. He yearns for something else.
“What kind of trouble?” she asked.
Benjamin gazed at her with renewed interest. “You know Yiddish?”
“I have a gift for languages and an aversion to crowds.” Mrs. Smith glanced around the room. “Is there a quiet corner where we might sit?”
“Certainly. Let me show you.”
