Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead (34 page)

Turns out Artie had guessed right after seeing the billboards advertising Andy’s optometry centers. He’d moved west for the skiing, met a nice girl, and created new roots, ending up with a beautiful family and a comfortable lifestyle that they thanked God for every day. Even better, Andy was excited about the idea of spreading the wealth.

His own small franchise was thriving, but he desperately wanted a business partner to help him expand. Even more amazing, Andy happened to know two buddies from optometry school who were also unhappy Eye Deals franchisees and who had spent the last few months gathering evidence for a class-action suit, as there was mounting proof of financial wrongdoing against the owners. “They’ve been cooking the books from day one.”

News from next door was equally surprising. Richard and Beth had also spent their first few days together ref lecting on Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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their future. Beth was adamant that if she had this baby, it would have no bearing on her decision to stay in the marriage. The only thing that would convince her to work this through was if Richard agreed to get counseling, be open about his daily life, and promise never again to deceive her.

Richard gave her his word, assuring her he understood that he had just gotten the wake-up call of his life, he was sorry from the bottom of his heart for his behavior, and he desperately wanted to keep their family intact. Under one condition: that Beth consider selling the house and moving to Portland. “You’ve got to admit, this opportunity with Nike is incredible, and we’ll have the best chance of starting over if no one knows our whole story.”

“Not on your life,” she’d said at first. Not with Jessie’s bat mitzvah coming up and her parents getting older, making travel more difficult. And then there was their house in which they’d invested so heavily. How could he even think about asking her to walk away from her brand-new Aster Cucine kitchen and Jenn-Air appliances? Maybe other people could pick up and move to another part of the country, but she was a New Yorker. She did not live in cities not within driving distance of Bloomingdale’s or Neiman Marcus.

But when Mindy confided that she and Artie had been talking about making this move, Beth hedged. She had been impressed by Portland, the cost of living was affordable, the schools were great, the skiing was amazing, and their new custom-built home could be on a large piece of property, rather than a postage-stamp-sized lot that allowed your neighbors to watch your comings and goings.

“I’ll think about it,” Beth returned from Mindy’s and said to Richard, though she could barely breathe when the words came out.

“Yes! What made you change your mind?”

“Looks like Mindy and Artie are serious about it, and I don’t think I could live here anymore if she wasn’t next door.”

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“So it has nothing to do with wanting to stay married to me?”

“Not really, no,” she said, giving him a half smile.

With life beginning anew for the Shermans and the Diamonds, it was only fitting that they be preparing for Passover, the festival ushering in spring and the season of renewal. Each year, Mindy offered to arrive early at her in-laws house to help set the holiday table, though it meant having to listen to Stan complain that the matzoh balls were too soft, while Rhoda yelled at him to stay out of the kitchen. But this year, there was a sweetness to their voices, a sign that like two horses who’d spent a lifetime pulling the family cart, they were back in step, still leading the way.

As Mindy carefully laid out each utensil and glass, she took great pleasure from seeing the gleaming silver, the bone china, and the embroidered silk linens handed down over three genera-tions, for it brought her back to when she would help her mother in much the same way.

How she had loved setting the table with the “good” dishes, then proudly placing her Bubbe’s candlestick holders next to her father’s silver
kiddish
cup, all while savoring the sweet smells coming from the kitchen.

But no question; nobody prepared a holiday meal like Rhoda.

Each year she would bring out one delectable dish after another.

The carrot tzimmes, the assortment of kugels, the homemade ge-filte fish with white horseradish. Even Dana, the hard-core health nut who insisted on bringing vegetable chopped liver, would be caught nibbling pieces of the soft, mouthwatering brisket.

And how auspicious that it was tradition that the youngest child at the Seder table ask the question, why is this night different from all other nights? For on this night, they would be joined by Aaron, the little boy whose presence had once brought so much joy to Artie’s family and who, like the Israelites, had been snatched from his home, praying that he might one day be returned.

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Mindy couldn’t wait to see Aaron’s reaction when he toured his grandparent’s waterfront home or when he read the passages from the Haggadah. Would he take an interest in the holiday rituals, other than the one that ordered drinking four glasses of wine?

And in keeping with the spirit of the holiday, welcoming strangers in a strange land, Stan and Rhoda graciously invited Beth’s entire family so that they could celebrate together the miracle as great as the Red Sea parting . . . their families reaching this day with everyone alive and in good health.

But the miracles did not end there. For the first time in seventy years, Beth’s mother, Ruth, could be seated next to another important guest, Mindy’s Grandma Jenny. Though infirm and of sound mind only on occasion, what better way to commemo-rate freedom from bondage than to reunite the former refugee, Gittle Soloweichyk with her onetime charge, Ruchel Freund, of Vienna?

Mindy had gone over to the nursing home the day before to try to explain the story to her grandmother, who said she understood. But that was no guarantee that she would remember that tonight was Passover, let alone that she was reuniting with little Ruchel.

Dayenu. It would have been enough to have just one of these blessings. But to have them all? She felt so blessed.

The minute the tall, still regal-looking Ruth arrived, she went right over to Gittle, hugged her beloved guardian, and began speaking to her in Yiddish. But the elderly woman showed no signs of recognition. “Keep going,” Mindy said. “Half the time she doesn’t recognize me at first either.” So Ruth shared stories and songs, even showed a picture of her in her mother’s arms that was taken months before the Kindertransport departed. Still nothing.

“Leave her be for now,” Helene suggested. “She’s like an old 304

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car on a winter morning . . . she needs a little time to warm up before she’s good to go.”

“Maybe show her the pickle dish.” Mindy laughed.

“Oh yeah. Good idea.” Helene brought it over to her. “Ma!”

she raised her voice so she could hear. “Remember this? The pickle dish you wanted back?”

“No,” she said, and waved it away. “Ver is Abe?”

“Abe is gone, Ma. . . . Arthur, too. But Mindy and I are here.”

“Ver? Ver is Mindeleh?”

“It’s me, Grandma. I’m right here.”

“Ver’s your mother? Is she coming?”

“She’s here.” Mindy kissed her and turned to Ruth. “This may take a while.”

“It took seventy years,” she hugged her. “Vat’s another few hours?”

By the time Stan began the Seder service, Mindy was holding back tears. As she looked around the table, she saw not friends and family, but people who had journeyed here with rich stories of love and loss, escape and redemption, and mostly of survival.

And though they may have been strangers, they were united in their unbroken faith and their belief in God.

How great to see Beth and Richard seated between her parents and their children, all so prosperous looking. Yet their suffering had never been allayed by their wealth, as it was true that there was no such thing as an E-ZPass for life. Mindy hoped that like the Israelites who were given a second chance, they, too, could rebuild and go from strength to strength.

As for Ira and Dana, it was yet unclear where their marital journey was headed. A normally boisterous Ira arrived barely uttering hello, except to Mindy, whom he said he was happy to see. “We would have missed you around here, kid. Nobody else Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

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keeps Dad in line like you.” But his attempt at humor was thinly veiled, as Dana had no problem showing her hand. “Well, what do you know? At least he appreciates someone!”

Mindy took Artie’s hand and smiled. How lucky she was to have had a loving partner and trusted friend all these years, and a father for her children who, like her father, believed that protecting them was both his duty and his privilege.

And what of their children? They were living in a world that placed so much value on material possessions and that rewarded entitlement without effort. Her hope was that in spite of their newfound prosperity, they had instilled in them a desire to enrich not their pockets but their souls. To live life with a generous spirit and a devotion to family, for that would be the best legacy they could possibly inherit.

Then there was Aaron, so handsome looking with his cropped haircut and clothes from the mall. Interesting how he blended in with his siblings and cousins like the missing patch in a quilt, yet without sacrificing his own unique style. Not many boys would dare to cut the sleeves off an expensive Abercrombie polo or attach their iPod to a pocket-watch chain.

And though he might not have understood the prayers his grandfather was chanting in Hebrew, he did recognize the lan-guage of love. Proof came at the end of the meal when it was time for the children to find the afikomen, the hidden matzoh. Little did Aaron know, his cousins weren’t looking very hard, as they were warned to make sure Aaron had beginner’s luck. There was a gift waiting from the leader, Papa Stan, and it had Aaron’s name on it.

Not one to show great emotion, Stan could not hold back his saltwater tears, for it gave him such joy to present Aaron with a photo of a beautiful baby boy sitting on his grandfather’s lap, celebrating his first Seder.

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“Is that me?” he asked.

“It sure is,” Artie sniffed. “I don’t know where they found it, but it’s you at this very table.”

“Welcome home, son,” Stan kissed his cheek. “Welcome home.”

“Ruchel!” Grandma Jenny suddenly called out.
“Hab keine
Sorgen. Gehe schlafen.”

“What did she just say?” Beth asked her mother.

“Oh my.” Ruth took Jenny’s hand. “She just told me not to vorry. To go to sleep.”

“Errinnerst du dich an mich? ”
Ruth asked. “Do you remember me?”

Jenny nodded.
“Du bist mein Baby von dem Kindertransport.”

“She remembers!” Ruth cried. “She said, ‘You’re my baby from the Kindertransport.’”

“It’s a miracle!” Rhoda hugged Stan.

“What is, Nana?” Ricky asked.

“All of it, darling. All of it.”

“Here is to family and friends.” Stan raised his glass. “To life!

L’chayim!”

“L’chayim!”
they all shouted.

“L’chayim!”
Aaron toasted Artie and drank the entire glass of wine.

“Hey slow down, son,” Artie laughed. “We’ve got three more cups to go.”

“I like being Jewish.” He refilled his glass. “You guys really know how to party.”

“That’s right.” Mindy hugged him. “Next to suffering, it’s what we do best.”

Twenty-seven

Six Weeks Later

Finally! Noah Blum, former-boyfriend-turned-hummus-selling psychic, got back to Mindy. “Fortunately it was just a social call,”

she scoffed. “Nothing very important going on in my life since I called you two months ago.”

He apologized but said he never got her message. The reason he was calling was because he’d heard about the plane crash and was concerned. Also, he had great news to share. He was getting remarried and his fiancée was a girl who graduated from their high school a few years after them.

“How many years after?” Mindy asked. “Six, seven . . .”

“Ten,” he coughed. “But a great girl. A dead ringer for Jennifer Anniston. You’ll love her. She doesn’t take my crap, ha-ha.”

“I’m sure she’s terrific, ha-ha.
Poor kid!
Send me pictures of the wedding.”

“No, I want you to come to the wedding. We’re getting married over Thanksgiving.”

“And you call yourself a psychic? We have a bat mitzvah that 308

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weekend. And unless you tell me it’s a horrible idea, we’ll be living in Oregon by then. But wait. I need to know if it’s okay to get on a plane again. I’m flying to Portland in a few days to go house hunting and I’m terrified. Speaking of houses, will we get close to our asking price? We got one offer but it was so low, I asked the guy if he was only bidding on the downstairs.”

Say what you would about Noah, he could be a source of comfort. He assured Mindy that the move would work out great and that he saw the house selling to a nice couple who didn’t care that it needed work, as the husband was a contractor and would be gutting it anyway.

As for future f lights, he promised she had nothing to worry about. He did, however, caution her about their finances. “I see this big windfall. Did you make a killing in the stock market?”

“Yes! Oh my God.”

“Well don’t blow the money on the first thing you see . . .

you’ve got a lot of extra expenses coming up. Are you guys planning on having another kid because I’m hearing about a boy, but it’s more like an adoption. Name has an A sound.”

She gasped, then said, “This is why people pay you the big bucks.”

Then Noah confessed. A nervous Artie had called the day before, told him the whole story, then asked for his guidance.

“I’m in shock,” Mindy laughed.

“Why? Because your husband claims he doesn’t believe in psychics?”

“No, because he looked up your number without me. That’s a first!”

Nadine was so jealous. Mindy and Beth had their houses all to themselves, as Stacie, Jamie, Jessica, and Emma were away at camp; little Ricky was in Florida with family friends; and God Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead