“Oh no,” Rebecca exclaimed, turning to her friend. “Please excuse me. I’ll need to return home and change.”
Isabelle waved a hand. “Nonsense, Pena will fetch Judith. She can find you something to wear and handle your gown.” With a reluctant nod, Rebecca left the room, smiling tersely as she passed the newest visitor.
“Mr. Berab,” Isabelle continued. “What a lovely surprise. Won’t you come in and have some tea and cakes with us?”
“Certainly,” the man murmured, strolling to Rebecca’s abandoned seat. Before sitting, however, he pointed a finger in Hannah’s direction before looking back at Isabelle. “She’s not here because of Weiss, is she?”
“I asked Miss Moses to tea,” Isabelle said primly. “She’s here on my invitation.”
“Naturally,” the man said, his eyes drifting to the fraying edges of Hannah’s gown. “You do invite the best people into our lives, don’t you?”
“What would you like, Roger? If it’s dramatics you’re seeking, I suggest you take yourself to Drury Lane after sundown. If it’s something else, now would be the time to mention it. Is everything all right with David?” Isabelle asked. “Or will he be joining us?” She glanced toward the door, as if hoping the other man would appear and save them from his brother’s company.
“Later, perhaps.” Roger shrugged. “Currently, he’s occupied. With a Mr. Sabur.”
Isabelle frowned. “Who is that?”
“A potential client that Mr. Weiss wanted to introduceto our services. He was supposed to send him the necessary contracts before Shabbat; however, they never arrived.” His tone dripped with annoyance. “Fortunately, my brother is skilled, and Mr. Sabur should become a client in truth, but David was… concerned about our colleague’s absence, so I came to search for him.”
“He’s not here,” Hannah said, the words more intended for herself than anyone else, even as her heart began to speed, a strange nervousness pushing back the embarrassment that rose at everyone’s sudden attention.
“Clearly.” Roger rolled his eyes and took a step toward Hannah. “You don’t happen to know where he is?”
“No.” She bit her lip. “The last I saw him was two days ago. He said he had a meeting.”
Her mind searched their conversation for any other clue regarding his whereabouts. Other than his concern forhersafety and his, well, whatever-that-was, that is. She tugged at her ear. “He asked me to consider an… offer of sorts,” she said. “And after I thought on it, to contact him.”
Glancing at Isabelle, she bit her lip, before adding, “His brother also warned him of trouble in the streets.”
Isabelle frowned. “Strange. I’d heard nothing of the sort—nor has Aaron.”
Berab heaved a sigh. “Likely Weiss forgot then. I don’t appreciate my time being wasted, as my involvement in the business is rather limited—”
“Nonexistent,” Isabelle said, raising her chin.
“I have other duties that are quite valuable to not only both of our families but the community as a whole,” Berab retorted before turning back to Hannah. “I’d advise you to contact him sooner rather than later,whether you have ‘considered’ his offer or not. Even if such thinking is not your forte.”
“Roger,” Isabelle admonished.
The man ignored her and remained focused on Hannah, whose cheeks heated despite herself. “No one here should forget that his job is not guaranteed and does require him to actually work as well as uphold the standards our families have set for the community.” His eyes bored into her as if to make sure she caught his meaning.
Even if he was being so obvious, a child would understand.
Not that he wasn’t right. Here was proof: she was no good for Sol, and she respected and liked him too much to continue harming him. She would relay her refusal, as well as check on his well-being—because she knew Sol was too loyal, too hardworking to forget a meeting—as soon as she could.
“Noted.” Isabelle spoke before Hannah could, rising with a dignity that she could only envy. She clasped her hands together. “Please tell David how much I appreciate his efforts, and that I’d like to meet with him after Shabbat to discuss Mr. Sabur and other matters.” She glanced out the window. “Provided the weather holds.”
Berab gave her a formal bow. “I most certainly will.” His lip curled into a half smile. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon with all the books and papers either of you could want. I’ll make myself scarce for that.”
He turned to Hannah and nodded. “Have a good afternoon. It’s a pity we don’t cross paths more often.” With a small scoff, he exiting, leaving the two women alone with what now had to be cold tea and quite a few uneaten pastries. Hannah’s stomach rumbled, and she cursed herself for not having eaten earlier.
Alas. Sol came first. Saving him from his own bad decisions, as well as just verifying that no harm had come to him because… she scratched her ear. It was highly unlikely, and yet still, there was an odd emptiness in her gut that had nothing to do with hunger.
She glanced at the door and back at her hostess. “I should—”
“You most certainly should.” Only Isabelle plucked four tarts from the tray, wrapped them in paper, and shoved them into Hannah’s arms. “Please have Sol contact me and let me know he’s all right. Tell him I’m not upset with him, just concerned.”
Hannah swallowed an odd lump her throat. “I will,” she said. “Thank you. For your hospitality and…”
Isabelle stared at Hannah for a long moment, opening her mouth then closing it. “You’re better for him than you think,” she said finally.
Before Hannah could protest, a gentle hand clamped down on her arm.
“I happen to approve of that statement,” Rebecca, having apparently been re-outfitted in what appeared to be a ballgown, several years out of fashion, said. “Especially if it contradicts that self-important blowhard.” She pursed her lips. “But—I—It was good to see you again. Perhaps next time we all attend the Great Synagogue you shall sit with us.”
“Thank you,” Hannah told her. “I’d like that.”
She meant the words, even if such an event happening was unlikely. But that was neither here nor there because this time—truly, this was the last—she would say good-bye to Sol for good before he lost his damned job.
