Carol of the Bellskis (3 page)

extra set to his majestic suite with its king-size bed, satin bedsheets, and strategically placed

Torah. He sat at the edge of the bed and stared at a framed, cross-stitched wall hanging quoting

William Shakespeare:
Love looks not with eyes, but with the mind.

Seth snorted.

It was funny that Judi and Carl's inherent realism made that the most romantic quote they

could think of to inspire honeymooners.
Who cares if she's ugly? She's smart!
suggested the

same thing.

But as Seth sat there, he realized that, of all people, he was guilty of transgressing this

golden rule.

Of course
he'd been using his eyes. How could he not? Lars was six feet four, carrying lean

muscles from obsessive running, with chiseled features and smoldering blue eyes under long

lashes.

But the mind behind that beautiful face was shrewd, calculating. At first Seth had loved his

boss's intellect. Lars was a quick thinker and funny. He could recite esoteric legal precedents and

the contents of the most recent
People
magazine with equal aptitude.

But that quick mind never stopped calculating—appraising risks, weighing consequences.

He knew how to give Seth just enough to keep him trapped in the love affair without ever

committing.

Carol of the Bellskis

11

Seth turned away from the wall. Thinking about Lars felt like jabbing a screwdriver

between his ribs.

He considered unpacking, but instead he just stared at his bag, hoping it would inspire him.

He noticed the zipper on the bag was broken. Typical. He pulled on it limply.

The ring of the doorbell snapped him out of his stupor. He pounded his wet boots against

the side of the bed to dislodge the large chunks of melting ice atop them, scrambled down the

stairs, and threw open the door.

To his surprise, it wasn't his aunt and uncle.

Two complete strangers blinked at him, both shrouded in heavy black wool coats with

nearly identical jaunty wool caps.

“Hello?” he croaked.

The couple frowned simultaneously.

“Eh, hello?” the little man said. “Is this the Bellski B and B?”

“Yes?” Seth glared at them a moment longer, angry that they weren't the people he

expected. And then he remembered this was a B and B and opened the door wider. “Yes! Yes, it

is. Come in.”

The little man smiled and shuffled in. “I'm Rabbi Chaim Siegel; this is my wife, Chana

Siegel.” The two of them clasped large, hard suitcases, the kind that could be thrown from planes

with impunity. Seth stepped onto the snowy porch to gather the rest of their things. They traveled

with four suitcases between them.

By the time Seth managed to drag them inside, the Siegels had removed their hats and

coats and were holding them out for him.

Seth grabbed them. “Let me put those away for you.”

“It's awfully dark in here,” Chana Siegel noted.

“It's cold in here,” the rabbi noted. “Are you sure this is the Bellski place?”

“Yes! Yes, yes…” Seth hung their coats up and then rushed around, turning on the

automatic gas fireplace, switching on lights, fumbling along the wall frantically for the

thermostat. “Sorry, I'm Seth Bellski, Carl and Judi's nephew, and I'm just helping them out until

12

Astrid Amara

they get back…soon…” Seth didn't really know what procedure his aunt had for registering

guests, so he just glanced in her register.

“It looks like she assigned you the Mitzvah Room on the second floor. I'll show you where

it is.”

“This is a nice staircase,” Chana commented, waddling upward. For a stout woman, she

had impressive arm strength. Seth dragged their other bags behind him, yanking them

individually over each stair.

“How old is the lodge?” Chana asked.

“Uh, I think it's—”

“I heard there's a shul within walking distance?” Rabbi Chaim asked.

“Well, the Sinai Center in Whistler has services—”

“Is there heating in each room?” Chana interrupted.

“Yes, I think so. But when my aunt—”

“When's dinner going to be served?” Rabbi Chaim asked.

“Uh…” Seth tried to remember the schedule Judi used the last time he had visited a few

years prior. “Seven o'clock, I think.”

“But sunset is at four fourteen today!” Rabbi Chaim said.

“Oh. Yeah. Well, I think we're doing a lighting of the Hanukkah candle first, with latkes,

and then dinner at the regular hour.” He was making this up. He had no idea what his aunt

planned. He prayed that she would show up any minute, and he struggled to maneuver their

luggage through the narrow door of the Mitzvah Room.

The Mitzvah Room faced the forest and had an unobstructed view of the glacial peaks.

Both Chaim and Chana audibly
oohed
at the sight, and Seth took advantage of their distracted

state to dash into the attached bathroom and make sure it was stocked with paper and folded

towels. Luckily his aunt always left every room ready for its next guest without fail.

“The bed's a little hard,” Chana noted, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Can we get a little more heat?” Chaim asked.

Seth found the thermostat and cranked it. He handed the rabbi the room key. “Here you

are. This is your own private bathroom. The living room, dining room, television room, and

Carol of the Bellskis

13

games room are all free for your use downstairs. When my aunt gets back, she'll talk about the

other things she needs from you.”

The doorbell rang.

Seth frowned. “Do you have more in your party?”

“The Rosenbaums are joining us, but they won't be in until later,” the rabbi said.

“They drove all the way from Alberta,” Chana said.

“And Mendel's car broke down in Banff,” Chaim added. “And of course they won't get

CAA, so they were stranded. In the cold, of all places.”

“And so they tried to call us several times, but of course we don't have traveling phone

service,” Chana said.

“I can't stand all the extra fees!” Chaim confirmed.

“But it would be worth it just to speak to Mendel when his car breaks down.”

“So now they are taking a rental car.” Chaim nodded.

“And the rental car has one of those fancy new units. Those geological units.”

“The GPS unit, Chana.”

“The GPS unit. But Mendel says he gets more lost when he uses it han when he doesn't.”

The doorbell rang again. Seth, stunned frozen by the rapid-fire assault of Siegel

storytelling, shook his head to pull himself together.

“Sorry, let me go get the door.” Seth practically ran from the room.

The gas fire roared in the fireplace, and the main room was beginning to warm. He opened

the front door to see a tall, old, excessively wrinkled man standing there, clutching a little terrier

under his arm.

“Bellski!” he bellowed.

“That's me,” Seth said.

“Aha!” The man clapped a huge, thick-fingered hand over Seth's shoulder and pushed his

way inside. In comparison to the Siegels, he only brought a backpack and a tote bag, which

seemed stuffed full of hardback novels.

Romances, Seth noted.

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Astrid Amara

“Checking in!” The man laughed. “It's cold out there, kid! I walked from the village. Good

for the constitution!”

Seth nodded politely. Despite acclaim for his constitution, the man had a gut large enough

to fit Seth inside.

“I've never been healthier, and it's all thanks to walks in the snow,” the man continued.

“You should try it. You look pale, kid. Pale and unhealthy.”

Seth wondered for a moment if there were hidden cameras. Bad acting, he thought. No one

is this naturally gregarious.

“And you are…?” Seth asked, heading over to the register. He was going to kill his aunt

and uncle as soon as they came in. Or at least charge them.

He ignored the fact that his room was free.

“Ben Berkowitz,” the man said. His face was intriguing. Deeply etched wrinkles marked

his face like engravings, and an impressive white shock of hair shot from his head as though

fleeing the sunken crevices in his forehead.

“
B-E-R-K-O-W-I-T-Z
,” Ben spelled out. “You got that, kid?”

“Got it,” Seth said. “You're in the Tikvah Room.”

“What a waste. I'm hopeless,” Ben said, playing on
tikvah
, the Hebrew word for
hope.

His little dog yapped.

“And this is Doctor Mister.”

“I'm sorry?” Seth asked.

“Doctor Mister. That's his name.” The man smiled as he held the terrier out toward Seth.

Seth reached out to pet the dog, and it growled at him. He withdrew his hand.

“Doctor Mister isn't himself until he's had something to eat. You got dog food, kid?”

“Uh…am I supposed to?”

“I talked to the older Bellski. He said it wouldn't be a problem.” The old man's

magnanimous smile faltered. “It isn't a problem, is it?”

“Oh no!” Seth said quickly. “No problem at all. If you cleared it ahead of time with Carl,

I'm sure it's fine. I'll show you your room and then see if I can find some food for uh…”

Carol of the Bellskis

15

“Doctor Mister.”

“Yes. Him.” Seth grabbed the key for the Tikvah Room and led Ben upstairs.

He barely managed to get Ben's thermostat cranked before the doorbell rang again.

“For God's sake,” he cried. He rushed down the stairs again to find two women beaming

up at him.

“Hello!” said an attractive, redheaded, middle-aged woman.

“Hello!” The younger one was adorable, with bouncy, curly hair and bright eyes. They

both cheerily entered the house and started talking at once.

“Oh! Sharon, look at that fireplace! How beautiful! And all the quilts on the walls and the

furniture! And look at the carpet! And look at the lovely table!”

“I can see, Heidi.” The older woman turned to Seth. “We're the Neidlich sisters, Heidi and

Sharon? I just flew in from Toronto, and Heidi from New York. We have a reservation for the

Hanukkah package.”

“Heidi and Sharon Neidlich,” Seth read from the reservation book. “My aunt put you in the

Mishpaha Suite.” The
family suite
was a fancy term for the room off the side of the house, with

only a view to the garage. It was spacious but sparsely decorated, all part of Seth's aunt's

philosophy that children will destroy everything in their path and therefore must be sequestered

into the back room with due haste.

Seth handed them the key to their room and then quickly turned away before he could

answer any questions or be forced into any more chores.

He fled for the kitchen, which was large and, more importantly, marked PRIVATE with a

large sign. He searched for a beer, found one, cracked it, and sat at the wooden kitchen table,

head in his hands.

Where the fuck were the Bellskis?

Throughout the house, Seth heard people unpacking, arguing, laughing, and the occasional

barking of the little dog. Judi's register did not bode well for his own vacation at this rate. There

was still another party on the way. He glanced at the clock.

It was three.

16

Astrid Amara

These people were going to expect a Hanukkah candle-lighting ceremony. They were

going to expect snacks and then a nice kosher dinner. And Seth did not cook.

Seth unlocked the back door that was in the kitchen and stepped outside. The wind had

died down somewhat, but it was still far below freezing. The snow crunched under his boots as

he walked. He peeked through the crack of his uncle's garage door.

Carl and Judi's red SUV was gone. That meant they really were running an errand and

would be back soon. Seth's heartbeat slowed in relief.

But the lack of tracks in the snow bothered him. It hadn't snowed all morning. There was

always the possibility that they had been in an accident, after all. Where the hell did they go?

And what was he supposed to do until they showed up?

He didn't want to just give up. His aunt and uncle had always been kind to him, even now,

granting him free use of their most expensive room so that he could get away from it all with his

asshole of a boss. He owed it to Judi and Carl to suck it up for a few hours, tend to the B and B,

and make sure the guests were welcomed until the proper hosts showed up.

Seth walked back into the house and did a quick inventory of the pantry. It looked stocked

for a wedding. No one could ever accuse Judi Bellski of running low on food.

His aunt was an incredible cook. Part of the appeal of the B and B was its delicious meals,

all made from scratch. But surely she had at least a bag of chips lying around somewhere,

something he could serve up at candle-lighting time to get the ball rolling?

Nothing. Not even a slice of pizza. He found some bread and a container of hummus.

There. Hors d'oeuvres solved.

Judi had two sets of dishes, two dishwashers, even two refrigerators. Her kitchen was

strictly divided per the most stringent rules of kashruth. The blue plates were for meat dishes