HisMarriageBargain (18 page)

“Lunch Sunday with my mom?”

Autumn buried her face against his shoulder. That was
Sunday. This was Friday. She had time.

“Sure.”

* * * * *

Tamara paced the length of Rabbi Abraham Ginzberg’s office.
Another young rabbi sat at the table with Abraham, but she didn’t care about
him.

“He simply cannot be married to this woman,” she said again.

“Tamara, please sit down,” Abraham said, gesturing to the
third seat at the table.

She did as he requested, the urge to do as a man bid her too
strong to ignore. There was nothing in her that had to like it, just as she did
not like the choices her son had made. Despicable choices.

“To make matters worse, he has also gotten a tattoo.” More
than one, but she wouldn’t mention that. Her shame was too great already. If
she could not undo what he had done, the stain on her must be removed. There
were provisions, laws, that might give her a way out. “Rabbi, there is a law
that states if a person is tattooed they can be pronounced dead?”

“Do not be ridiculous. He is your only son. We could not
pronounce your only child dead. Who would carry on your family name?” Abraham
spread his hands. The twist of his lips said what he had not, that he disliked
the turn of events as much as she did.

But Samuel was not his son.

He was hers.

And she did not want the Zimmerman name given to whatever
progeny that whore would have. Tamara dug her nails into her palms.

Always be a lady.

“I think Samuel is ill. Is there something Halakah can do
for him? This needs to be fixed.”

Abraham shook his head. “We’ve been over this several times.
I fear that the boy has chosen to abide by the decisions he’s made, and it is
out of our hands now.”

Tamara pursed her lips.

We’ll see about that.

Eyeball tattoo—These tattoos date back to the 19th
century. Modern techniques have made it safer, but the procedure is still
risky. Ink can be injected into the sclera, changing the color of the white
portion of the eye, and can even be injected into the cornea and retina.

Autumn laid out the stencil for her first appointment of the
day, resolutely not glancing at Mary. The moment Autumn had stepped foot in the
shop, Mary had snapped at her for slamming the door too hard, then Autumn had
used all the paper in the printer doing her stencil and hadn’t restocked the
gloves in the piercing room. The last two were technically not her job. Both
fell to their shop manager Carly, but something had Mary’s skirts in a knot and
the normally taciturn woman was spewing a stream of words.

The cell phone on her desk chimed and flashed Sammi’s name
and Autumn couldn’t help but smile. He’d been concerned to the point of
smothering her that morning, but she appreciated the heart behind it.

Thinking about my sunshine. How are you?

She missed him. Just a few hours apart and she was hungry
for his touch, his smile, the sound of his laugh. God, she had it bad for him and
he didn’t even know it.

Horrible. Your cock isn’t in me.

Autumn hit Send on that little gem and picked up her pencil.

“
Andale
.
” Mary shooed Pandora out of her way
as she marched back to the office.

Pandora crossed to Autumn’s station and rested her hip
against the table hanging off the side wall. There was a large mirror running
the length of the shop, and above it Autumn had pinned a collection of artwork
and stencils she’d used recently.

“What’s up with Mary?” Pandora whispered.

Autumn shook her head. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’m
just going to keep my mouth shut today.”

“Lucky you. You have appointments all day. All I’ve got is a
two o’clock piercing.” Pandora blew out a breath. “Hey, Carly.”

Carly eased to a stop and peered at the design Autumn would
be tattooing soon. “Man, that’s going to look sick.”

“Thanks.” The image was an overlay design consisting of
several parts. A block of words. A partial portrait. A swath of color. Even a
bit of a cartoon strip. It would be a little chaotic, but the outcome would be
a nice addition to her portfolio. “Hey, where’s Kellie?” Their other boss, the
voice of reason, was always early.

There was a beat of silence before Carly replied, “She’s at
Jacob’s wedding.”

“Shit. Open mouth, insert foot.” Autumn groaned. She
swiveled a little to face her friend. “How you feeling about it?”

Carly shrugged. “He’s marrying his fiancée. I guess I’m
happy for him.”

“Come on, Carls, we know you’ve liked him.” Pandora crossed
to sit on Autumn’s padded tattoo table.

Carly sighed and slumped back in her chair. “Yeah, so? He’s
a nice guy, but why would he like me? I’m a cripple white girl who is moving
into an over-the-garage apartment. His fiancée is a petite, hot Asian chick. No
contest.”

Pandora was quick to step into the role of mother. “Don’t
say that, Carly.”

“And how many times has Jacob come in here to hang out with
you? His parents want him to marry Miss Snobby Pants. Kellie said he told her
that.” Autumn couldn’t imagine an arranged marriage. Sure her marriage was a bargain,
but she’d made it. Her parents hadn’t.

“Can we please talk about something else?” Carly grabbed her
rims and pushed forward and back. “I’d really prefer to not think about that
today.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” Autumn said.

Carly narrowed her gaze, studying Autumn. “You know, you
never told us how you got engaged to Sammi.”

“Oh.” Autumn glanced between Pandora and Carly, who suddenly
appeared very interested in her. What was she going to say? The truth wasn’t an
option. “Um, well, we’ve been friends for a long time. We were hanging out and
it just happened. It’s not like we were hiding anything, because there wasn’t
anything to hide, I mean.” She shrugged. “So we flew to St. Maarten and got
married on the beach.”

“That’s it?” Carly asked.

“Well, yeah,” Autumn replied, praying they didn’t press her
for more.

Pandora shook her head. “Only you. I can’t even imagine what
that looked like.”

“I have pictures.” Autumn seized on the opportunity to show
off the album. She hadn’t wanted to steal any more of Pandora’s spotlight.

“What?” Carly shrieked.

“You’ve been holding out on us?” Pandora thumped her in the
shoulder.

“Come on already, you hooker.” Carly grinned.

Autumn dug in her bag under the table and pulled out the
album Sammi had picked up that morning. Inside were almost one hundred shots of
the whole day. Some of them were of the beach, objects, neat stuff, but the
ones that made her heart melt were the ones of the ceremony.

“Oh my gosh.” Carly gasped and pulled the book toward her as
they flipped straight to the wedding ones.

“Oh Autumn, look at the way he looks at you.” Pandora tapped
a shot of Sammi caught smiling at her. “He loves you.”

Autumn blinked at her friend. Sammi? In love with her? It
was a painful twist to her heart, but she didn’t correct her friend.

“Look at this one. You two always looked good together. I
approve.” Carly flipped the page.

Footsteps from the hall heralded their irate boss. The three
turned as one, hiding the album behind them.

“I have to go,” Mary announced.

“Why? What’s up?” Pandora asked.

“Sam never came home last night. His friends don’t know
where he is.” Mary shrugged, suddenly looking younger and very lost.

“Oh no,” Carly said.

“Is there anything we can do?” Autumn ventured to ask.

Mary shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, we’ll be here if you need anything. Don’t worry about
a thing.” Pandora stood and crossed to give Mary a hug.

Autumn wanted to throw her arms around the both of them, but
doubted Mary would allow her.

God, their little family was being torn all to pieces.

* * * * *

Sammi pulled into his parents’, no, his mother’s house,
dread sitting in the pit of his stomach.

“You’re grinding your teeth and it’s freaking me out,”
Autumn muttered.

“Sorry.” He glanced at her and did yet another double take.
She looked so un-Autumn in the skirt suit set they’d purchased that morning. It
wasn’t how he’d wanted to spend his Sunday, but after the disaster Friday,
together they’d decided this was the safest solution to putting the best foot
forward.

There was no changing what his mother thought of Autumn. In
hindsight, he’d lost the upper hand in introducing them under the best of
circumstances when he chose to do nothing.

“Sammi, this house is huge.” Autumn ducked her head to stare
up at the massive brick house.

“That’s the way my father wanted it.” He’d like to think
that were his father still alive, he’d come around to liking Autumn.

They got out of his Escalade and made their way toward the
front doors hand in hand. Whatever happened, they had each other.

“Do we knock or go in?” Autumn asked.

“Just go in. She’s expecting us.” He pushed the door open
and ushered Autumn into the cool foyer that was about half the size of their
home.

“You have a rotunda in here, and a double staircase?” Autumn
whispered.

He glanced around, trying to see the house through her eyes.
White and gray marble was blocked in by a line of black marble marking the
perimeter. Two staircases curled around either side to an open second level
that was kept for the family’s private use. At least in theory. There was a
library and billiards room up there where his father had regularly entertained
friends.

Ahead of them were a hall to the right and left, and beyond
that the formal living room, a gargantuan room with a piano and view of the
backyard. He led Autumn through this room and into the sunroom with its riot of
flowers and plants.

In the middle of all the color, his mother stood next to the
wicker table in a somber gray pantsuit, and sitting to her right was Rabbi
Ginzberg.

“Shit,” he muttered. Sweat broke out along his spine and his
heart rate kicked up.

This was beyond bad.

His mother turned her head and spied them. Her frown
deepened the lines around her mouth. “Samuel, you should have knocked.”

Knocked? When had he ever knocked?

“Sorry, Mom.” He kissed her cheek and offered the rabbi his
hand. “Hello, Rabbi.”

“Hello, Samuel,” Abraham replied, accepting his hand.

Both his mother and Abraham turned their gazes on Autumn,
who’d waited quietly behind him. She looked so different with her hair pulled
back and her makeup kept light and dewy. Beautiful, but not herself.

“Mom, Rabbi, this is my new wife Autumn. Autumn, meet my
mother and Rabbi Abraham Ginzberg. He’s been a close family friend for as long
as I remember.”

Abraham snorted. “Son, I remember when you were a baby.”

“You were there for Samuel’s
brit milah
,” his mother
said as casually as if they were talking about trimming hair, not cutting off
bits of his infant penis.

“I was, wasn’t I?” Abraham chuckled. “I skip those these
days.”

Sammi glanced between the two, who’d neatly ignored Autumn
in favor of rehashing his childhood.

“So, how about lunch?” Sammi interjected.

His mother slanted him a disapproving glance, but he ignored
it. Instead, he guided Autumn to sit next to Abraham, who stood to be the more
forgiving of the two if at all possible. It was a mark of how nervous Autumn
was that she didn’t utter a word.

“We weren’t done speaking, Samuel. Interrupting is rude,”
his mother chastised.

“I’m sorry. Have a seat?” Sammi held his mother’s chair out
for her before seating himself.

Abraham turned to Autumn, studying her. His gaze lingered on
the multiple hoops through her ears and the color streaked through her hair.
Autumn nervously glanced at him and back down to the table.

“What is it you do?” Abraham asked without preamble.

“Autumn is—”

“I asked her, not you, son.” Abraham’s gaze flicked to him
and it felt as if he’d been sliced with razors. What was going on here? What
had they walked into?

Autumn glanced at him then to Abraham. “I’m an artist, sir.”

“What kind of artist?” he pressed.

“I work on canvas sometimes, but mostly people. I specialize
in modern movements, a lot of color.” They’d talked about how to spin her job
to make it sound as least offensive as possible.

“A tattoo artist,” his mother spat with disgust.

“Yes ma’am.” Autumn kept her chin up, but her inner light
was muted.

“The Torah tells us not to tattoo our bodies.” Abraham
steepled his fingers, looking less like the kindly old man and more like a
judge by the moment.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about that,” Autumn
replied, shifting in her chair.

Shit.

Both his mother and Abraham’s brows rose.

Sammi had to put a stop to this. Autumn did not deserve this
kind of scrutiny. They were comparing her to rubies when she was a sapphire.
“Rabbi, respectfully, Autumn doesn’t know our traditions. I have not asked her
to convert and I don’t expect it.”

“What? Samuel, what is the meaning of this?” Tamara glanced
between Sammi and Autumn, her expression growing more alarmed.

“But why not?” Abraham asked, spreading his hands.

“Because how can I expect her to suddenly believe something
I’ve introduced her to without believing in it? I was raised Jewish, it’s what
I am, but Autumn shouldn’t have to claim she believes what she doesn’t.”

He could feel Autumn’s gaze on him. They hadn’t had more
than a short conversation about Judaism. She’d offered to convert, but that
felt wrong to him, so they’d agreed it wasn’t needed. It was a decision few to
none of the Jewish community would understand, but Sammi was sticking to it.

“Samuel, I cannot abide by this. The eloping, the tattoos,
the secrets. It ends now. This,” she waved at Autumn, “ends now.”

“Mother—”

“No.” She shook her head and held her hands up, unwilling to
listen. She stared across the table at Autumn. “What will it take for you to
leave my son in peace? I don’t know what you have on him or have done to him,
but I will not allow you to ruin him with the fighting and the parties. I’ve
heard about you. I spoke with good girls about what my son does with you and I
will not allow it.”

“I-I’m sorry, I—” Autumn stammered, her eyes large.

“Mother, who have you been talking to?” He pounded the table
with his fist.

“Good girls.”

Abraham leaned forward, speaking around Autumn. “What your
mother is concerned about, Samuel, is that you are acting rashly. We’ve never
met this woman and yesterday I hear about her picking a fight with Dalya of all
people.”

“No, Dalya started it,” Sammi said quickly.

“Did she? From the sound of it she didn’t.” Abraham spread
his hands.

“Tell me who you’ve been talking to and I’ll tell you if
they’re telling you the truth.” Sammi leaned forward. He’d expected an awkward
lunch, not an all-out attack on himself and Autumn, who didn’t deserve this
treatment at all.

Autumn glanced from Abraham to him. “I didn’t start a fight
with that chick. She yelled at me and threw wine.”

“That’s not what I heard.” Abraham’s tone clearly said he
didn’t believe either of them.

“Whatever you’re holding over my son to get him to marry
you, believe me, I’ll find it out.” His mother stared daggers at Autumn.

“Excuse me?” Autumn tilted her head and her brow wrinkled.

His mother’s gaze narrowed. “Let me make myself perfectly
clear. My son is a good man, and no matter how you dress, I’ve seen pictures of
you on the computer and I know you are no lady.”