for another two months. It was only this morning, after studying her disappearing waistline in the diner’s bathroom mirror, that she’d drummed up the courage to confirm her suspicions.
“Watch how you talk,” Gertie reprimanded, handing a plate of sliced challa to Hannah. “There are men here.”
“I wasn’t hatched from an egg,” David said, laughing. “Anyway, Becky is right. That’s the calculation the doctor used. But the ultrasound scheduled for next week will give us a more accurate picture.” Looking at Hannah adoringly, he took her hand as though she was as fragile as a china doll.
Becky could tell that her mother was performing a few of her own calculations. “This is the first week in December,” Gertie said slowly. “That would make Hannah three months preg—in the family way.” She looked at David accusingly. “Right?”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, Ma. The baby won’t dare show his face until the appropriate amount of time has passed.”
“I wasn’t saying anything, so wipe that look off your face.” Gertie pretended to be offended, but her joy was obvious. “Not that I’m complaining, but I have to say, you didn’t waste much time.”
“They didn’t go on a honeymoon to play golf,” Aaron said.
“Shame on you, Aaron. Such a way to talk in front of your children.” She turned to Becky. “Finally I’m going to have grandchildren, and here I thought the first one would come from you.”
It just might, Becky thought. She wasn’t sure of the date of her last period, but she knew exactly when she had conceived: Labor Day weekend, the night of David’s wedding. Which meant that she and Hannah would be delivering around the same time.
“Don’t start on her, Ma,” David said. “She’ll get remarried one day. Besides, she’s a lot younger than I am. She has time. She’ll have a family when she’s good and ready.”
As a matter of fact, before I’m good and ready, Becky thought.
“From your mouth to God’s ears,” Gertie said.
Becky let out a nervous breath. This was as good an opening as any to tell them about the baby. But she had to do it gradually, to soften the blow. Step one, marriage is out. Step two, adoption is in. Step three, forget step two and tell them I’m pregnant. “Actually, I don’t think I’ll ever get married again.”
Gertie dismissed the comment with a wave of her hand. “Of course you will. Jordan will come back. Just be patient.”
When was her mother going to accept the divorce? “I wouldn’t take him back if he crawled on his hands and knees, not after what he did,” Becky said. “He used me, and he used you, too. Without the money he borrowed from you, he never would have been able to go to medical school. And don’t forget, I was the only one bringing home the bacon, you should pardon the expression. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not angry that he went to school while I worked—yes, Ma, I do have some skills—but it’s funny how he dumped me as soon as he got what he wanted.”
Gertie frowned. “Do we have to talk about this at the Friday-night table? Shabbes is supposed to be a time of rest, and that means a rest from all this bickering.”
“You’re the one who brought it up,” Becky answered indignantly. “If you like Jordan so much, why don’t you marry him?”
“Is that how you talk? Listen to how she talks! Aaron, say something!”
Aaron cleared his throat. “First of all—”
“First of all she needs a husband,” Gertie interrupted. “Which she had, I might add, but she sent him away. What kind of daughter sends a man like that away?”
“I didn’t send him away, Ma. He left.”
“Yes, I know. He used you and then he left. Well, I have news for you. A husband and wife are supposed to use each other. They’re supposed to turn to each other in times of need. Did you want him to use someone else?”
Becky sighed with frustration. “Jordan did turn to someone else, or have you forgotten that already?”
“You mean that shiksa? He’ll get tired of her, mark my words. He’ll come back when he comes to his senses. What was her name again, Bambi?”
“Barbie, Ma, and I wish you wouldn’t use that word.”
“What, shiksa? You’re worried you might insult her? Next you’ll be saying she’s a wonderful woman and if circumstances were different, the two of you could be friends. What kind of wife makes friends with the husband’s mistress? What’s wrong with you?”
Becky gritted her teeth. “I’m not the one at fault here. Nothing’s wrong with me.” Nothing except that she was unmarried, pregnant and unemployed. “Why can’t you ever take my side? After Jordan and I separated, I’m surprised you asked me, not him, to move in with you.”
“Calm down. You don’t have to make a scene. All I’m saying is that men don’t leave. Women let them go.”
“And daughters don’t leave, either,” Becky retorted. “Mothers drive them away.” She pushed away from the table. “I’m going for a walk.” She stood up and gave her sister-in-law a warm squeeze on her shoulder. “Mazel tov, Hannah. I’m so happy for you and David. But I have to warn you, you’re going to need all the luck you can get to survive in this family.”
“Where are you going?” Gertie demanded. “In this weather you want to go for a walk? Aaron, do something!”
“Listen to your mother,” Aaron said.
Bubbe looked up at Becky. “Eat something, bubeleh. At least have some soup. I made it just for you. Chicken soup with no chicken, the way you like it.”
“I’m sorry, Bubbe. I’m sure it’s delicious, but I’m just not hungry.” She gave her grandmother a peck on the cheek, then whirled around to face her mother. To heck with softening the blow. Bombs away! “Oh, I forgot to mention that I was fired. And there’s one other thing. I’m in the family way.”
“I realize it’s only the first week in December,” Eleanor said, “but this is Connecticut, for pity’s sake. It’s supposed to snow. Why does the town always go into a tizzy at the first sign of a flake? Schools close, roads back up and people crowd into grocery stores to wait at the checkout for hours, convinced that if they don’t stock up they’ll perish.”
Carter sat at one end of the long mahogany table, facing his mother. At the center of the table was a spray of orchids in a Baccarat crystal vase. At each end, arranged in a formal place setting were Eleanor’s sterling silver, her Royal Worcester dinnerware and a crystal wineglass. It’s just the two of us, he thought, yet she sets the table as though she was expecting the queen of England. But even when his father was alive, it had been this way. Carter suspected she dined like this even when she was alone.
“It’s the mentality of the masses,” she continued. “They always cause such havoc whenever the slightest thing goes wrong. Is that why you’re so late?”
“Excuse me?”
“The traffic, Carter. I’m talking about the traffic.”
