Gabriel returned her smile. “I didn’t know I was German. Or Jewish. My mother’s family was English, I think.”
“Many people would be surprised at what they find in their family tree if they look back a generation or two. Which is why all this hatred between races and religions is so foolish. We’re all family, in one way or another.”
“I agree.”
Kelly smiled. “Since you’re a professor of literature, I think it would be fitting for you to deliver the lectures at Columbia one year.”
“That’s very kind of you to say, but I’m afraid I’m a Dante specialist.”
“Grandfather was interested in everything, judging from the books in his library. I’m sure Dante was there somewhere.”
Gabriel wiped his lips with his napkin. “Won’t it be an embarrassment to the family?”
Kelly’s sapphire eyes grew momentarily fierce, rather like that of a lioness.
“You are family. And if anyone dares to object, well . . .” Her voice trailed off as if she were contemplating something particularly nasty. “Apart from Audrey, I think you’ll find everyone to be civil.”
“In that case, please tell the committee it would be an honor.” He bowed his head slightly.
“Excellent. I’ll mention you to the cousins.”
Kelly pushed her plate of food away and signaled to the waiter to remove it.
“You’ve barely eaten.” She looked with some distress at his full plate.
“I’m afraid I’m not hungry.” He indicated that the waiter take his meal, as well. Then he ordered coffee.
“Have I upset you?” Kelly’s voice was low.
Gabriel paused.
“No. It’s just a lot to process.” His expression shifted and his eyes grew alight. “The revelation that Professor Spiegel is my grandfather is a welcome surprise.”
Her mouth widened into a smile.
“I’d like to introduce you to Aunt Sarah, Dad’s youngest sister. She can tell you all about her parents and your aunts and uncles. She’s a wonderful lady. Very bright.” Kelly regarded him for a moment. “Did your mother ever explain why she called you Gabriel?”
“No. My middle name is Owen, after our father.”
Kelly’s blue eyes sparkled. “His birth name was Othniel. Be grateful he rid himself of it before you were born.”
“Does my name have any significance to you?” Gabriel waited with anticipation for her answer.
“I’m afraid not. Except that when Audrey was a teenager and my parents bought her a dog for her birthday, she wanted to call him Gabriel. Dad threw a fit and said no.” Kelly looked off into space. “I’d forgotten about that until this very minute. My parents had a fight about that, too.” She made eye contact with Gabriel again. “In the end, she called the dog Godfrey, which was a very silly name for a Pomeranian. But Pomeranians are a silly breed, I think. Jonathan and I always had Labradors.”
Gabriel was silent, not knowing what to say.
After a moment, he spoke.
“His name isn’t on my birth certificate. And I wasn’t granted his surname, obviously.”
Kelly appeared uncomfortable. “I’m afraid I already knew that. When my mother and sister decided to contest the will, that was one of the pieces of evidence they cited. But Dad had signed an affidavit before he died, affirming that he was your father and stating that he persuaded your mother not to name him on your birth certificate. I don’t know what kinds of promises Dad gave to your mother. But he must have felt guilty over what he did. Eventually.”
“Humph,” said Gabriel.
“In fact, I think he must have felt something more than guilt.” She picked up her large handbag and went through it. “Here.” She placed an old photograph on the table, next to Gabriel’s empty coffee cup.
The picture was of him and his mother. He looked to be about five years old.
“I don’t remember this picture. Where did you find it?” He peered at it closely.
“Dad kept a box of things on his dresser. When my mother died, it came to me. I was looking at it the other night and I noticed there was a place where the fabric on the inside of the box had been ripped. Inside the hole, I found the picture. He must have been hiding it from my mother.”
“I don’t know what to do with this.” Gabriel gestured to the picture.
“Keep it, of course. I have some other things for you, too.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Do you read German?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” She laughed, the sound soft and musical. “I understand a little German because Dad used to speak it now and then, but I don’t read it. So Grandfather’s books are of no use to me. And I won’t wear Dad’s cuff links. So you see, you’d be doing me a favor by taking them off my hands. In fact, given the size of our apartment and the amount of things in it, it would be a mitzvah.”
“A mitzvah,” he mumbled, as the waiter served their coffee.
“I’ve been very rude, Gabriel, doing most of the talking and not asking about yourself or your wife. I hope I’ll be able to meet her.”