Anna smoothed her skirts, thinking. “I confess I have no idea where this is going.”
“Then I’ll get to the heart of it. Celestina had a marriage proposal, from the rabbi of her congregation.”
In her surprise Anna found nothing suitable to say, and so she asked the obvious question. “When was this?”
“A couple days ago. She told me about it yesterday.”
“And what did she say to him?”
“She put him off.”
“She didn’t refuse him?”
“Or accept him.”
Anna thought for a moment.
Jack said, “You just did that humming thing. What are you thinking?”
“I’m wondering about this—what’s his name?”
“Nate Rosenthal.”
“Mr. Rosenthal—”
“Rabbi Rosenthal.”
“Does she love him?”
He glanced at her, his mouth quirked up. “She doesn’t say.”
“But she didn’t refuse him outright.”
“No. I think she would have accepted him, if not for—
“Bambina. She thinks the rabbi is not good enough for her sister. She doesn’t approve.”
“Why do you come to that conclusion?”
Anna raised an eyebrow, and he inclined his head in acknowledgment.
“Yes, all right. She doesn’t really approve of anybody. She doesn’t like Nate Rosenthal because he’s forty. A widower with two little girls. Or at least, that’s her official stance.”
Anna had seen sisters who loved and valued each other, sisters who tore at each other out of jealousy and spite, and everything in between. She and Sophie had never fought the way sisters sometimes did, and never took each other or the value of their connection for granted. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the way these things worked.
She thought of Bambina as someone who was difficult to live with and drew most of the attention to herself. If Celestina found this unfair, she hid her feelings well.
Jack said, “You don’t like Bambina.”
“There are things I don’t like about her,” Anna said. “She can be narrow minded and judgmental, and it will take a long time for me to get over the way she treated Sophie. Assuming for a moment that she has changed her mind and her manners in that regard. But she’s very young and bright and ambitious, and she’s frustrated. I think the best thing for her would be to live on her own for a good while.”
The look he shot her way was pure surprise tinged with irritation. “When this subject first came up I told you that it’s not acceptable for young Italian women to live alone. It’s just not done.”
Anna pushed out a soft breath. “Listen before you reject the idea out of hand.”
“Anna—”
“Listen,” she said again. “There are some excellent boardinghouses for young women, extremely selective, in very good neighborhoods and with spotless reputations. They aren’t cheap—the one I’m thinking of is six dollars a week for room and board—but no male visitors are allowed, not even relatives, except in the parlor, and then only chaperoned. I know of two women doctors who live in a boardinghouse just across from Gramercy Park. I’ve even visited them there. It’s beautifully kept; the food is excellent. It’s run by an elderly couple. She’s a Quaker and he’s a retired police officer. As far as I know they’ve never had any kind of incident or trouble—but you could, you should inquire at the station, couldn’t you?”
He shrugged in reluctant agreement.
“You act as if I’m suggesting she go live on the moon.”
“But what would she do with herself all day long?”
Anna resisted the urge to laugh at him, this disgruntled and overprotective and—it had to be said—clueless older brother. “She could continue with her sewing and embroidery, or she could teach, or here’s an idea and it’s one you really should consider. She could learn something else, study something that interests her and take up a career of her own choosing. Bambina is difficult and demanding because she’s unhappy, and she’s young and selfish enough to demand that her sister keep her company in her misery.”
Anna forced herself to stop talking. Jack would think about this idea if she allowed him the time he needed to do that.
“She’d be alone,” he said finally.
This time she did let out a small laugh. “Alone? She would be within a short walk or ride of us, your aunt Philomena, Celestina in her new home, and your many, many cousins. I still haven’t figured out exactly how many cousins you have, by the way. She would also have friends her own age, young women she could go to concerts or lectures or for walks or to the theater with. Living among other young women who have careers might make a very large difference in the way she sees the world. You think she would reject the idea out of hand?”