After the last customer had left for the night and Tamar had gone to their quarters to start dinner, Hannah locked the cashbox and lugged it into the back room. Like she did every day. Like she would keep doing every day. That was her life. That would always be her life.
Sol deserved better. That was the long and the short of it. And now that he’d recovered, he’d have it. Without her.
And she’d find some way to bear the pain.
“This is the way it has to be,” she whispered, wiping away the dust irritating her eyes, making them water. “It was always going to end this way. He’s made for better things. He deserves better.” She repeated the words again and again as she cleaned and put objects away. If she said them enough, her heart would come to the same realization as her head.
“Bavajadas. And here I thought you were clever,” a voice—one that made Hannah’s blood thump in her ears—said from the front of the shop.
Heart thudding, Hannah whirled around, only to find a well-dressed elderly woman, supported by a cane topped by a carved bird head, standing in the entryway.
It couldn’t be.Panic rose in Hannah’s brain as recognition spread through her body. The voice was familiar, as was the form, but what were the chances that—
“It’s been a while,” the woman said, strolling to the counter. “Ten years, give or take, though the last time, you rudely didn’t give me the chance to introduce myself.” She gave a small, formal bob, despite her age. “Luckily, you’ve been more pleasant to my granddaughter, Isabelle.”
Isabelle… Isabelle Ellenberg?So this woman—her old enemy from the Jewish Orphan’s Home—was… Isabelle’s beloved grandmother?
“Don’t tell me the cat that is currently terrorizing the Berab household got your tongue.” The woman—Mrs. Lira—thumped her cane as if to command Hannah’s attention. “Permit me to amend my prior statement, I have never thought you clever, only presumptuous, poorly mannered, bad-tempered, reckless, careless, self-centered, and odiously stubborn. While several of those qualities served you more than hindered you in the interceding years—more than even I believed possible—that’s neither here nor there. Nor is whether or not Sol Weiss deserves ‘better,’ as you say. The man wants to marry you. While I have always found him a touch… much, he’s not without quite a few positive qualities. And should not be easily dismissed.”
“By the likes of you” was so clearly implied that Hannah rolled her eyes. As if that was not the point. A view this woman certainly shared.
“I know. He’s told me as such—multiple times. But the fact he can form the words doesn’t make them true,” Hannah retorted, unable to help herself even as she searched for the closest exit, even if she was in her ownbloody store, as no other good way to rectify the situation came to mind.
Isabelle’s grandmother, however, did not appear to be listening. Instead, she’d rounded the counter and was now yanking out the stool her sister kept beneath it.
“Don’t you love him?” she asked as she hoisted herself up so she could sit. She wagged her finger at Hannah. “I have it on good authority that he loves you. And given that you both—”
“Love is not enough to overcome reality. Overcome the world in which we live,” Hannah argued back. “That sort of thing only happens in the storybooks Tamar favors.” And even in those, such endings rarely occurred for Jews. Especially not the bad ones, like her.
“Ah yes, Tamar. How old is she now?” Mrs. Lira asked, glancing around. “You don’t have any tea, do you?”
Hannah gaped. She had to be joking.
“We have coffee. But it’s almost certainly cold at this hour,” she finally said. “And it’s upstairs.”
“Provided it’s properly strong, I take it with sugar.” The other woman waved her hand. As if she’d actually been offered the beverage.
They stared at each other for a long moment, and yet, several minutes later, Hannah found herself—after a hasty conversation with Tamar—returning down the stairs with the woman’s request.
“Tamar is twenty now,” Hannah said as she handed Mrs. Lira the rather plain, but thankfully not chipped, teacup she’d selected. “But you know that.”
“Yes… an interesting age. It’s funny, I remember it better now at seventy than I did at sixty.” The older woman’s voice was prim. She took a sip of her drinkbefore placing it on the counter and returning her gaze to Hannah.
“If you think I’m going to apologize for my words the last time we met, you, as you say, are out of your head,” she declared. “You made bad choices then and I have it on good authority that you make plenty of them now.”
Hannah’s spine stiffened before she folded her arms and grumbled, “Tell me something I don’t know.” She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“Guay de mi, you have the worst manners. I haven’t finished,” the woman said before sighing. “I’ll admit that, at the time, I didn’t look at all the angles. Something quite unlike me.” She gave a rueful smile. “Your sister is your only family, correct?”
Hannah frowned. “Yes, she’s all I have left,” she said slowly, searching for the trick in the question. “And while I might not be the sort of woman someone like Sol Weiss marries, Tamar is. She’s the sort of woman any man from the community would be proud to marry.” She ground her teeth. “I made sure of it.”
“Yes, you created the space to permit her that life. Made providing for her and her future your primary role,” the older woman said with a nod. She took another sip of what was, at best, lukewarm coffee. “You know, my late husband had a specific role in his family.”
There was a long pause. Hannah glanced up to meet Mrs. Lira’s stern gaze.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.If this woman thought she was going to perform some sort of deferential, goyishe… though if she ever wanted the woman to leave… Hannah ground her teeth but forced herself to respond.
“Yes?” she asked, with as much politeness as she could muster.
