The Saturday Wife (43 page)

“Chaim, what is it you want from me? You were the one who told me to go out into the community. To be friendly. To help you get new members, didn’t you? So I did!
Now
what is it you want?”

He stared at her blankly. It was like shouting over the Berlin Wall. He shook his head and left, spending as much time as possible hibernating in his study until the wretched event would finally be over and peace and sanity would, hopefully, be restored to his congregation.

The day finally arrived. A limousine picked Delilah and Chaim up and drove them to the airport, where a huge refrigerated truck was loading into a cargo plane enough food to feed the U.S. Army in Iraq. A rabbi in a white coat and long beard was supervising.

“They are using Golden Caterers,” Solange whispered.

“The ones that cater at the Waldorf and the Plaza?” Felice asked, surprised. “They absolutely never cater outside!”

“I’ve been watching the plane loading. Whole cows, dozens of them, glatt kosher; a farmload of chickens and turkeys! Pounds of caviar and kosher French foie gras—which is only produced once a year, so you have to get it just in time,” Amber whispered back in awe. “And truffles, Swiss chocolate, raspberries, baking supplies. The chefs are flying out with all their pans and pots and utensils, and whole sets of dishes. They even brought along their own stoves and dishwashers, because they don’t want to have to kosher the hotel’s.”

“Wow, what a production,” Mariette marveled.

“Wait. I’m sure this is nothing compared to what they have planned,” Felice predicted, something to which they all silently agreed. “Look, there’s Delilah. My, doesn’t she look fetching.” Felice arched her brow. “If that skirt was any tighter—”

“Or shorter. Really, ever since she and Joie became such dear friends, the woman has—”

“Careful,” Amber whispered.

Solange stopped abruptly, looking around her edgily.

It was like being in the Gulag. You didn’t want anyone to overhear you saying anything that could even vaguely be interpreted as negative about either the rabbi or his wife. The rumor was going around that Lorraine Harris had said something in the gym to a friend on the treadmill about an
outfit Delilah had dressed her baby in and almost immediately had gotten a call that the invitation had been rescinded. “The messenger actually came to Lorraine’s house and asked for it back! They wouldn’t even let her keep the music box!” Felice shuddered.

“All I was going to say was isn’t it a wonderful thing that Delilah has become so close to the Shammanovs? For the synagogue, I mean…” Solange’s voice trailed off.

They waited in smiling silence as Delilah strode up, air-kissing each of them. “Well, here we all are! What fun this is going to be!” Delilah whooped.

The women glanced at each other with strained smiles, being careful to stay politely behind Delilah and Rabbi Chaim as they joined the line of the privileged few invited to board the Shammanovs’ own private jet. The rest of the guests had to content themselves with a normal charter flight.

The Shammanovs’ private jet was like something out of the Victoria and Albert Museum, done up in red with lots of gold braid and oil paintings of faded pastoral scenes and nudes. There were only 50 seats on the plane, instead of the usual 120. There were private servants who prepared the meals and served them, and first-run movies.

Delilah looked around her. The entire board was there. The men were already huddled with Viktor. She noticed that each one of them made an effort to get him alone whenever they could, and that Viktor was constantly in clandestine whispered conferences with the richest people in Swallow Lake and the environs. She wondered what they were talking about, but didn’t trouble her head too much about it. After all, the really important thing was that everyone was being incredibly nice to her.

She was almost ready to make her shipment or designer handbags to Israel’s terror victims, and donations continued to pour in. Friends of Solange, Felice, and Amber kept asking her what she and Chaim were doing for their summer vacation; if they’d consider joining them at their private beach houses, country estates, or ranches in South America. She said she’d let them know,

She and Joie sat next to each other on the plane, talking about the latest movie-star-couple breakup, while their babies were cared for by Joie’s daytime and nighttime au pairs.

“I’ve hired another au pair, who is waiting for us at the hotel. The concierge arranged it. She’s going to be my water au pair, because you need someone to be especially careful with a baby near the water, and I get
so sleepy in the sun. Also, if—God forbid!—one of the other au pairs gets sick, she can take over, because goodness knows I’ve got my hands full with supervising this whole shindig.”

And then, before they knew it, the plane had landed, refueled, and taken off again. After hours over the open sea, it suddenly hovered above a series of incredibly green and magnificent islands. “Ooooh!” everyone gasped, third-graders on their first trip to Disneyland, as the plane came in for a landing amid palms and mountains and beaches. Dark-skinned girls in hula outfits waited on the tarmac. Hips swaying, they placed thick purple, white, and pink leis around the guests as they descended. “Don’t worry about the luggage. It’ll be brought to you,” someone said, directing them to waiting limousines.

Delilah leaned back, sighing with contentment, as the car drove off. How far she had come from middle-income housing projects near the bay, she thought, holding her baby in her lap and threading her arm through her husband’s. She rested her head against Chaim’s shoulder. She felt a surge of gratitude toward him for being her partner and making all this possible.

He looked at her, surprised and touched, and patted her hand. “Happy, my love?”

She nodded. For the first time she felt it was really true. She
was
happy. She had everything she’d always dreamed about.

And it was just the beginning.

TWENTY-SEVEN

H
otel employees welcomed them tenderly, as if they were delightful friends who had been away too long. An unseen hand gently placed a tall glass filled with untold amounts of gaily colored alcohol and a little umbrella into her hand. She followed a bellboy through a spectacular outdoor lobby facing the sea until she reached her suite.

Oh! Delilah thought, looking around the suite. It was like an Entertainment Channel special featuring “celeb perks.” She sank into the pillows of the couch, fingering the bows of a huge gift basket.

“Delilah!”

“Huh?”

“The baby, remember?” Chaim held out the sweating, unhappy infant to her.

She looked at him, annoyed. Little Abraham with his endless secretions and appetites. She took him reluctantly, shaking her head. “Look,
Chaim, if this weekend is going to work, I have to have someone to help me. Otherwise, I won’t be able to do anything.”

“What, exactly, are you planning to do?”

She thought fast. “Well, help Joie through it. Sit next to her in the synagogue during the ceremony, explaining things. You know she expects me to. And I can’t do it with a crying baby.”

He shrugged. “Well, I can’t take care of him. I’ve got to be up there with the Bar Mitzva boy. He’s going to need all the help he can get.”

“Not you! I need an au pair.”

“Can’t the Shammanovs’ three au pairs watch him?”

She shook her head. “Viktor wants them to concentrate on Natasha.”

“Don’t you have to bring one of those with you?”

“No, actually the concierge can arrange it. Joie told me all about it.” She handed the baby back to him and picked up the phone.

The baby, hungry and hot, with aching ears, began to whimper.

“They say it’s absolutely no problem,” she said, hanging up the phone triumphantly. “They’ll send us one. We can have her for the whole weekend.”

“And the cost?”

She looked at him steadily. “Look, we are getting this entire vacation for free, so we can afford to splurge on this one little thing.” She walked over, patting down his tie. “Come on, honey, otherwise I’ll never get to go swimming or anything.”

“Oh, so that’s what this is really about! Delilah, it’s just not appropriate for the rabbi’s wife to be walking around in a bikini.”

The baby was now screaming so loud he’d completely lost his breath, his face going frighteningly red. Reluctantly, she took the infant back, unbottoning her blouse and whipping out a breast. Little Abe, already familiar with the lay of the land, wasn’t taking any chances; he latched on to the nipple quickly, hanging on with desperate determination.

“Ouch, that hurts! You little leech! Look, Chaim, don’t be a fuddy-duddy. These are all fun people who won’t mind a bit. I made sure of that.”

“What?”

“I mean, Joie made sure of that.”

“So it’s true, then! You
did
pick the guest list.”

“Don’t be silly. Joie made the final decision.”

“But you were the one who told her who’d be fun and who wouldn’t?”

Delilah, who was holding the baby in one arm and rummaging through her luggage with the other as she looked for her bathing suit, cover-up, trendy baseball cap, flip-flops, and eyewear, looked up for a moment. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“Don’t you understand?” he exploded. “You—no,
we
—are guilty of everything people have been accusing us of! And they are absolutely right to be furious.”

“They’re just jealous. You know what? Maybe they’ll learn a lesson from all this. Isn’t that what you always say, that God gives us troubles to open our hearts and make us repent and become better people?”

He stared. “And what, exactly, are the people back home trudging through the icy sludge supposed to learn from this, Delilah?”

She thought about it for a moment. “That they should be nicer to their rabbi’s wife,” she said, shrugging. “But when I get back, I promise you I’ll give them every opportunity. After all, doesn’t the Torah tell us not to hold a grudge?”

He shook his head, giving up.

The pool was surrounded by little three-sided tents, inside of which there were two chaise lounges. In one tent she spotted Viktor, deep in discussion with Stuart Grodin. She thought about waving to them, but they only had eyes for each other. The pool boy led her to an empty tent, handing her thick white towels and arranging her lounge covers. Delilah left the baby in his carriage and stretched out. Soon a dark-haired Hawaiian beauty came by.

“Mrs. Levi? I’m Lana, your au pair for the weekend. Aloha. Happy to meet you.”

Delilah swung her legs over the side of the chaise. “And I’m
delighted
to meet you.” She grinned, stretching out her hand. “Well, here he is, the baby. Abraham. Little Abe.” She made appropriately maternal faces at the exhausted baby, who looked back at her, bleary-eyed. “He’s a little knocked out from the flight. But here is some formula, and his bottles and pacifier, and his favorite giraffe.”

And just like that, little Abe disappeared.

She leaned back, stretching out, allowing her robe to open, and cautiously peeked around to see if anyone had reacted. Seeing nothing, she took it off altogether.

It was a white suit, covered with tiny gold cross-stitch embroidery. She
looked, she realized, absolutely luscious in it. Plates of pineapple were brought to her, and a bar menu. She chose a Heavenly Hawaiian Smoothee, made with frozen yogurt, fresh tropical fruits, and some kind of liquor. She wasn’t an expert, but, boy, what a wallop! Considering that she was still experiencing the effects of the welcome drink, whatever inhibitions still lingered were soon sent on their way.

She leaned back, boldly lifting off the baseball cap. Covering her hair suddenly seemed ludicrous, considering the vast expanses of forbidden flesh now open for public viewing. She pushed back her sunglasses, surveying the new world. She had no idea that at the same time, the world was surveying her.

Just across the pool lay Dr. Joseph Rolland. From behind his sunglasses, he examined the rabbi’s wife.

She was like a big, soft, sexy doll, he thought. Blond hair (this was definitely not a wig, he realized, delighted) lightened from darkish honey to fourteen-karat gold, the shadings competently but not expertly done. It was the kind of color a man with meticulous and expensive tastes might secretly sneer at after he’d had his good time. Her lips were full yet delicate, when not cheapened by a slash of some too-bright trendy shade as they were now. The eyes were a glorious blue but a little narrow at the corners, the only part of her face that really looked better with her obvious and carefully applied makeup. Without it, he considered, her face would look more deliberate and calculating, like an animal scurrying for escape or chasing its next meal.