“I am so glad you could come too, Miss Murphy,” he said after he had greeted Gus and Sid. He was dressed in a Russian worker’s garb, a high-buttoned black tunic that suited him well. His black curly hair was freshly washed and slicked down in an attempt to tame the curls.
“We must be outside Greenwich Village, since I have reverted to being Miss Murphy, or have I in some way offended you?” I said, and was rewarded by his blush.
“You must forgive me. I was raised to a strict code of behavior. My parents lived by every rule society ever invented.”
“Your parents are still in Russia?” I asked, expecting to hear that they were dead.
“No, they are here. I managed to bring them to the New World soon after I arrived here. They live a street away on Delancey and think me a bad son and a terrible sinner because I do not choose to live with them. That an unmarried son should branch out on his own is unthinkable. Why, he might even entertain unchaperoned young women and then who would want their daughters to marry him?”
We laughed together at this absurdity. Living with Sid and Gus had made me forget that the rest of the world still adhered to strict rules of conduct.
“So will you allow the matchmaker to select your wife, like a good Jewish son?” Sid asked.
“I could throw the same question back at you, Miss Goldfarb.”
“Touché. But one only has to look at me to know the answer. You still choose to live in a traditional area and wear a beard.”
“Then to answer your question—I still adhere to the basics of my religion, but only when it does not conflict with reason and the twentieth century. I attend the occasional seder with my family, but see no reason to observe dietary restrictions which were created for a desert lifestyle. My parents think I am lost beyond hope. And you, Miss Murphy—are you still a good Catholic girl?”
“I never was. When I was a small child I used to slip out during the middle of mass to raid the priest’s blackberry bushes. There was always too much emphasis on the fires of hell for my liking. I think my God would be more forgiving and have a better sense of humor.”
“Then we worship the same deity,” Jacob said. “Forgiving and humorous. The world would be a better place if such was the tenet of life.”
Gus had already started to wander around the room. “These photographs are magnificent, Jacob. Nell was right. You do have a great talent.”
“I’m merely a novice, Miss Walcott. Still learning my trade.”
“But you’ve captured the life of the city perfectly,” Gus said. “Come and look at this, Sid and Molly.” She held up a large print of some scruffy children, playing among lines of drying laundry on a rooftop. There were scenes in crowded streets, and ominous back alleys.
“Why,” I exclaimed, “this is the alley that the Eastmans frequent—and, if I’m not mistaken, those are members of the gang, lurking in that doorway. How did you manage to take their pictures, Jacob?”
“I am amazed that you are so familiar with gang members,” Jacob said. “You do lead a dangerous life, Miss Murphy.”
“My visit there was accidental, but you must have lingered long enough to set up your exposure.”
“I was there with Nell. She was writing one of her exposure articles on the worst slums in the city. This was one of the sites she chose.”
“She is remarkably fearless,” I said.
“I would rather say foolhardy,” Jacob answered. “Sometimes her lack of regard for her own safety worries me.”
“And so you go on assignments with her to take pictures, but also to act as her protector,” I said.
He gave me a long hard look. “You are remarkably perceptive, Miss Murphy.”
“Molly.”
He inclined his head. “Molly.”
We drank more coffee then Sid got to her feet. “I’m afraid we have taken up too much of your time, Jacob. I am delighted to have made your acquaintance and look forward to inviting you to our future soirees.”
“And I will be delighted to accept, Miss Goldfarb.” Jacob gave that curiously foreign bow. He escorted us to the door and down the stairs.
“We should hail a cab as soon as you see one, Gus dear,” Sid said. “Or we may be late for lunch with the Wassermans.”
Jacob touched my sleeve lightly. “Are you also expected at the Wassermans, Miss Murphy?”
“No, I’m not, and when will you get it into your head that my name is Molly?”
“In that case, maybe you would allow me to escort you home.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary. I’m quite comfortable on these streets and it’s broad daylight,” I said and watched his face fall. “But if you’ve a mind for a walk on such a fine breezy day, then I wouldn’t say no to the company,” I added hastily.
“In that case, I’ll grab my hat,” he said and bounded up the stairs again.
“I think you’ve made a conquest there, Molly dear,” Gus said quietly.