For the Love of Mike (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #3)

Then she jumped up and disappeared into the kitchen again. A few minutes later we were summoned to table and Mrs. Singer carried in a platter of fish and a bowl of potatoes. I helped myself cautiously, not wanting to appear greedy and waited in case anyone was going to say a blessing. Luckily, I was right. Jacob’s father said some words in Hebrew and then picked up his fork.

“My mother makes the best potatoes with sour cream. It’s good, isn’t it?” Jacob said.

“Very. And the fish are herring, aren’t they? We used to eat a lot of herring at home.”

Jacob translated this and for the first time I saw a small nod of approval.

After the main course we had a sweet macaroni pudding, followed by tea and honey cake, then Mrs. Singer headed for the kitchen again. I, wanting to be the good guest and suitable friend for their son, jumped up and followed her.

“Let me help you with the washing up,” I said. “I’m well house-trained.”

She held up her hands to say no.

“But I’d be happy to,” I said as I picked up the dishes and put them in the nearest sink. She gave a cry of horror as Jacob appeared behind me.

“What did I do? I’m not going to break anything,” I said.

Jacob said something reassuring to his mother, then gave me an embarrassed grin. “You put the dairy dishes in the meat sink.”

It was then that I noticed for the first time that there were two sinks, and two stacks of dishes on the shelf.

“There are different dishes for meat and for dairy?”

He nodded. “And we can’t eat them together and there different cloths for washing and drying the dishes. One of our crazy food rules, of which there are many.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“How could you?” he said. “It really doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sure it does matter,” I said noting his mother’s distressed face.

Jacob shrugged. “They will have to get the kitchen made kosher again. It’s not the worst thing in the world. There are too many religious customs from the old country that are not practical in our new life over here and will probably be lost someday.” He brushed it aside with a gesture, but I looked at the stricken face at the sink. Jacob might take his religious background lightly, but I had the distinct feeling that his parents weren’t about to toss aside their religious customs in a new country.

“I’m really sorry,” I said to Jacob’s mother this time. “I wanted to help. I didn’t know.”

She managed a weak smile. “Ist nichts.”

“Forget it.” Jacob took my arm and escorted me out of the kitchen, before I could break another rule, I suspect.

The atmosphere was decidedly awkward after that and we left soon after.

“They must think I’m a proper heathen.” I gave an embarrassed laugh.

“Not at all. They will think you are kind and sweet and very pretty, just like I do. They will learn to love you in time and think that I have made a good choice for myself.”

“Whoa—hold on a minute, aren’t we rushing ahead a little?” I asked, laughing nervously. “We’ve only just met, Jacob.”

“Some things you know straightaway.”

“But we know nothing about each other yet. You have only seen my good side. You haven’t had a chance to witness my terrible temper or my stubbornness. And I, in turn, know little about you. For all I know you might snore at night and be prone to fits of black despair.”

He was smiling at me the way a father smiles indulgently at his beloved child. “Whatever my faults, I promise to correct them instantly for you.”

“But Jacob—”

“Molly, is the idea of marriage so repugnant to you?” He stopped and turned to face me.

“Of course not. Sometime, in the future, I hope to marry.”

“Then the idea of marrying me does not thrill you with anticipation?”

“I didn’t say that either. It’s just—too soon, Jacob.”

“I’m not trying to rush you, Molly. It’s just that I knew the moment I saw you, and it would have been wonderful if you had known too.”

“I do enjoy your company, Jacob, and I think you’re a fine person too. So let’s take it slowly from there, shall we?”

“Of course. Why not? It’s a lovely Sunday and we have the day to ourselves. Let us not even think about tomorrow.”

He slipped his arm through mine and we walked arm in arm down the street. It was hard to enjoy a free day, strolling in the sunshine when I had so many things I should be doing. I really should be trying to find out whether Michael Kelly was still alive. I should also be looking into Ben Mostel and his extravagant lifestyle. Then I gave in to temptation and put those thoughts aside. Just for once, everything could wait until tomorrow.





Twenty-four





On Monday morning I joined the line of girls waiting outside Lowenstein’s. There was an air of anticipation in the crowd. I think some of the girls truly believed that they would go down those steps and find the place miraculously transformed into a place of heat, light, and beauty. It was a freezing cold morning, with ice in the gutters and a wind that cut right through me coming off the East River. Thank God we had not had to face temperatures as bad as this last week or we’d never have held out for four days!