She opened her mouth to remark the same to Weiss and then closed it as a notion popped into her head.David. His brothers had offered marriage only at his suggestion. His idea, in truth. Could this be personal to David?
Isabelle thought of all their conversations—and the expression on his face during—beginning with the one that occurred the third day of Shiva, for her father spirited into the forefront of her mind. She’d been, well, upset, and implied—not intentionally, but out of her own grief—that her father had been the true brains behind the business, instead of David, who had been by their side for every step of his illness, who probably longed for the before times as well, for his friend. And while she’d meant to apologize . . . She grimaced as another memory rose.
She’d been in the offices. There was an important contract that needed to be renegotiated. One of her father’s first clients. The one he used as an example to teach her. She’d commandeered most of the staff to help her. She bit her lip. Without even asking David.
He’d come in later, red-faced, after he was left unprepared for a meeting that day. And she’d been, well, rather on edge, having just come from sorting through some of her father’s personal items, searching for his notes on business. She’d given him a shrug and a not particularly sincere apology.
True, there had been times such as when he’d merely shrugged off her hurt at not being invited to a staff meeting.You had other commitments.A remark she’d taken as an insult when he’d then enquired as to a social call she’d paid, but perhaps, he’d been attempting to be considerate as she was in the first month of sheloshim . . .
After too many moments like that from them both . . . well, it had never been the same.
Weiss was right, wasn’t he? Very right.
Yes, David Berab had given as good as he’d got, but she’d been thoughtless and self-centered, and when he reacted, even if it was an overreaction, she’d not soothed the situation, only escalated. Until they were at war.
Blinking a little, she turned back to Weiss. “The idea that this is personal to the brothers, namely to David, well, that’s rather intriguing and most likely the correct analysis. Though I’m not sure it’s personal in the way you are imagining. I think certain statements and actions on both our parts might have led David Berab to believe that I do not respect or value him, leading us both down this path where more than a business has been fractured. And while I’m not sure that there is a way to ever mend the chasm we created, not after the threats—no matter my earlier role—I do appreciate the new perspective on the situation. You’re very astute, Mr. Weiss.”
“I try to be. And thank you for the compliment.” His lips tipped in a soft smile as he too leaned back. “But in addition to the motivation, there is still—”
“Can it wait for a moment? I think there is something you can do to assist me with what we were already discussing, which was, coincidentally, the purpose of my visit.” Isabelle gripped the arm of the chair to give her strength. “I came to speak with you regarding the future—our shared future.”
“Shared, did you say?” He clasped his hands in front of him, his eyes wide with excitement. “Is this the conversation I expected to have later tonight?”
“No, but I think you will, in time, prefer it.” She folded her hands in her lap.
“I don’t like the sound of that.” He frowned.
Her chest rose and fell with the enormity of what she was doing, but she filled her lungs and pressed forward. “I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you.”
His eyes grew wide, and he stepped back as if he’d been struck. “You’re marrying one of the Berabs?”
“What?” She wrinkled her nose. As if she’d do that. “No. Never. David Berab would hate me more in the end. Trust me.”
“Then who? Is it that Ellenberg fellow?” Weiss’s expression turned worried, and he lowered his voice. “Isabelle, I know he’s a kind and generous person—I mean, I owe him my life.”
She blinked at him.
“He stopped a ruffian from robbing me the other day,” Weiss explained. “Though I heard he’d do the same for anyone in the community. He’s truly good, but he’s, well, what I wanted to talk to you about. The Berab brothers will skewer him. And you through him.” He glanced from side to side uneasily. “They’ll see it as an insult and escalate further.”
“Possibly. Though that says more about them and their values than anything else, does it not?” She gave him a half smile before shaking her head. “But no, I’m not marrying Aaron Ellenberg. He’s all but left for America, keeping him safe from any potential skewering, as I—I made quite a hash of, well, many things.” Her voice cracked a little at the end. She squeezed her hands together. Foolish emotion.
“I think any hash in this case was caused by the actions of more than one person.” Weiss rubbed the back of his neck, his expression sheepish. “But I am sorry.”
“Why?” She smoothed her skirts.
Weiss stepped forward and laid his hand over hers. “I’m not an ogre, and though I want to win, and honestly need to win, need to have this match for the sake of my own family, I did—do—did see the way you two looked at each other. As I alluded to priorly, or I at least was attempting to, I know of what transpired in the garden.”
“You what?” Fire shot through her cheeks. This man had seen her . . . nude.
He bit his lip, his own cheeks turning redder than her gown. “I might have been doing some research . . . right before I almost got robbed—twice, actually—once with Mr. Ellenberg, and once just before, when I initially hurt my knee. It was a very long night, and—”
“You’re joking.” Oh, she could die, melt into the floor and die, which might be better, as she’d not have to deal with any of the rest. Though . . . She heaved another sigh. She was an adult and she had responsibilities, but mercy, it was so, so, so humiliating.
“I’m not the only one.” He held up a palm, as if that was a decent excuse. “That’s the rest of what I’ve been trying to tell you. Do you really think your family doesn’t have you watched? You’re lucky they hire people who are circumspect. Or despise David Berab and his ‘my family was invited by Cromwell and the goyim believe my lack of accent means I’m directly descended from Christ’s favorite uncle so I’m better than everyone else’ attitude enough to have kept him in the dark. One or the other.” He gave her another abashed expression, glancing down at the rug. “It might have been prudent to spend more time indoors together.”
And “humiliating” wasn’t even the word to describe it. Mortifying. How many people exactly had seen them? And she’d have to find a way to look them all in the eye . . . She bit back a groan. Leader, she was a leader, and leaders could do such things, head held high. And she would. After potentially murdering them all herself.
“Noted. And I will need to find a way to guard against—” She raised her chin, her voice steady again, her strength beginning to return despite or maybe because of the ridiculousness. “But regarding him, none of that matters now.” She dug her heels into her shoes, grounding herself.
