The Two-Family House: A Novel (11 page)

Helen didn’t know who to comfort first. She took Teddy up on her knee and picked one of the other animals for Natalie. “Here, sweetheart. Here’s a cow for you.”

“Mooo!” Natalie called out.

“She’s smart,” Rose said. “Like Judith.”

Helen was miffed. “Sam spoke early too.”

“I know,” said Rose, “but Natalie takes after Judith in a lot of ways.”

“She has the same chin as Harry,” Helen pointed out.

“True.” Rose gave in. “They both have Grandpa Harold’s chin.” Harold was Mort and Abe’s father. Rose knew the conversation was not going in a good direction. She was trying to think of something else to talk about.

Helen must have been thinking the same thing. “What do you want to do for Thanksgiving this year?” she asked. “Do you want me to have it upstairs? It’s no problem.”

Rose suppressed a sigh. Where was it written that the two families had to celebrate
every
holiday with each other? Rosh Hashanah and break-fast had been in September, but it felt like they had just happened yesterday. Was it really necessary to have Thanksgiving together too?

“We … may go to my aunt Faye’s place. She invited us.” It was only partly untrue. The last time Rose had spoken with Faye was over a month ago. She hadn’t invited them specifically for Thanksgiving, but she had told Rose to “come and visit anytime.”

“Really? You’re going to schlep all the way to Manhattan on
Thanksgiving
? Why do you want to go all the way there?”

“It’s not that far.”

“I thought Mort didn’t like Faye’s husband.”

“Mort had a nice conversation with Stuart last time.”

“Suit yourself. Let me know if you change your mind.”

“I will. I’ll talk to Mort about it tonight.”

“All right. Faye can always come to us. It’s just the two of them. Maybe I’ll just call and invite her here. That way everyone can be together. Why don’t you give me her number?”

“I’ll ask her.”

“Are you sure? I’d feel rude if I didn’t invite her myself.”

“I said I’d ask her!”

“All right.
You
ask her.” Helen got up from her chair and handed Teddy to Rose. “I forgot how many errands we have to do today,” she said. “We need to go to the fish store and the pharmacy and—”

“Don’t let us keep you.” Rose was visibly relieved. “We’ll see you later.” As soon as Helen and Natalie were out the door, Rose locked it quickly behind them. She took a small leather-bound book out of her kitchen drawer, found Faye’s number and began to dial it.

Chapter 21

JUDITH

Judith was bored. She looked over at her sisters, who were sitting on the other side of the long mahogany table. Dinah’s eyes were half closed, like she was falling asleep, and Mimi kept sneaking glances at herself in the enormous gold-framed mirror on the wall. Judith took a spoonful of soup. It was going to be a long afternoon.

Who served soup for Thanksgiving anyway? Sure, they had soup for other holidays, but that was different. This soup was pale green and tasted funny. Aunt Faye said it was cream of celery, but Judith was trying to pretend she hadn’t heard. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to eat it if she thought about the ingredients, and she wanted to be polite.

Judith preferred Thanksgiving dinner at Aunt Helen’s. There was no celery soup, and Aunt Helen always made pumpkin bread. Judith was pretty sure there would be no pumpkin bread here. She could see only hard, store-bought rolls in the polished silver bowl that sat in the center of the table.

It had taken forever to get from Brooklyn to this fancy apartment building on Park Avenue. There was a stylish-looking doorman in the front of the building who asked them their names and called Aunt Faye on the lobby telephone to announce them. Then another man, also in uniform, rode up the seven floors with them in the elevator. Judith didn’t see how a person could make an actual job out of riding in the elevator. How much work did it take to push a button anyway?

Aunt Faye and Uncle Stuart had no children or grandchildren. The floor in the foyer was polished marble (Dinah almost slipped when they first walked in), and there were expensive-looking crystal and china pieces on every surface. The coffee tables were made of glass, and even the couches managed to look fragile. They didn’t dare put Teddy down on the floor, for fear he might hurt himself on a sharp corner somewhere or (even worse) break something of Aunt Faye’s. Of course Aunt Faye didn’t have a high chair. So Teddy fidgeted on Rose’s lap.

Aunt Faye was pale and slim, and her gray-blond hair was swept up with silver combs. When Judith’s mother asked if she wanted to hold Teddy, Faye didn’t hesitate. “No, thank you, dear,” she said, wholly unapologetic. “My chemise,” she said, motioning to the white silk blouse she was wearing, “is not suitable for carrying babies. It’s terribly difficult to clean.”

“So Mort,” said Faye’s husband, Stuart, “how’s business these days? Anything new in boxes?” Stuart said this like it was a joke, but Mort answered seriously.

“Absolutely,” said Mort. “More and more food companies are using cardboard boxes, so we’re focusing production on this trend. Right now we’re working closely with a cereal manufacturer in Philadelphia.”

Judith could see that Stuart wasn’t pleased with the answer. He was frowning, drumming his thick fingers on the dining room table. Stuart was the kind of man who liked to give advice. If no one needed his advice, he became cranky.

“Better be careful,” Stuart cautioned. “This cereal fad might not last, you know. You can’t grow a business on
trends
, Mort.”

“I agree,” said Mort. “I’m following the numbers on all of this very closely. Trends come and go, but numbers don’t lie.”

“Hmmph,” said Stuart. He was sitting at the head of the table with Faye directly across from him at the other end. “Faye!” he almost shouted, “When are we serving the damn turkey already? The soup tastes like piss!”

“Stuart! There are
children
present!” said Aunt Faye.

“Well, they probably think it tastes like piss too.”

The girls giggled. Rose gave Judith a look, stood up and handed Teddy to Mort. “Take Teddy for a few minutes. I’m going to help Faye in the kitchen.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” said Aunt Faye. “Lucy can manage.” Lucy was Aunt Faye’s housekeeper. She was dressed for company that evening in a pearl-gray uniform with a white lace collar. Judith had never seen a real maid before, and having Lucy there made her uneasy. Judith thought her mother must be feeling the same way. They weren’t used to sitting around the table and waiting for someone else to serve them.

“Well,” Rose said, “why don’t I just do a quick check and make sure Lucy remembered to put the sweet potatoes I brought in the oven.” Dinah had cried her eyes out when they told her they weren’t having Thanksgiving at home. The only way they could calm her down was to promise they would still have the same sweet potato casserole with tiny marshmallows on top at Aunt Faye’s house. “Whatever you like, dear,” Faye agreed.

“I’ll come too,” Judith said. That way, she wouldn’t have to finish her soup.

“Mom, are you okay?” Judith asked as soon as they were in the oversized kitchen. “Shhh,” her mother hushed her. She turned to the maid. “Lucy, I think they’re ready for you to clear the soup bowls, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lucy said and hurried out to the dining room.

Rose turned back to Judith. “Stop making this so difficult, young lady,” she hissed.

Judith hadn’t known she was being difficult.
She
wasn’t the one who said the soup tasted like piss. In fact, she had been afraid to say almost anything at all. Aunt Faye and Uncle Stuart seemed like the kind of adults who thought children should be seen and not heard. She was just acting the way she thought she was supposed to.

“What did I do?” Judith asked.

“You laughed at the soup, you’ve been making faces since we arrived and you’ve barely spoken to your aunt!”

“I can’t think of anything to say!” Judith spoke a little too loudly.

“Lower your voice this instant!”

Judith was quiet. She bit her lower lip and tried not to cry.

“Mommy, I’m sorry. I didn’t know … I just miss being at home for Thanksgiving.”

“Stop carrying on!” Rose glared at Judith. “Poor, poor you, having Thanksgiving in a beautiful apartment with silver bowls and French china and a maid serving you like a princess instead of being back at home with your favorite aunt who makes the world’s best apple pie and can do no wrong! Maybe Aunt Helen isn’t so perfect! Did you ever think of that?”

Judith was in shock. Not even her father talked to her that way.

Lucy returned from the dining room holding a tray of nearly filled soup bowls and spoons. The maid walked into the kitchen tentatively, humming softly to herself. Judith wondered how much she had heard. As soon as Lucy set down the tray, Rose turned around and left the kitchen without saying another word.

Judith took a deep breath. Had she really behaved as badly as her mother said? Could her mother be jealous of the amount of time she had been spending with Aunt Helen? Judith had only been trying to be helpful, to keep the girls and Teddy out of her mother’s way. It was easier to go up to Aunt Helen’s than to keep everyone quiet all the time. And over the summer her mother had hardly gotten out of bed. What had Judith done wrong? What could she have done differently? She couldn’t think of anything.

Lucy was busy putting the carved turkey slices on a platter. Judith wiped her eyes and opened the oven to check on the sweet potatoes. The marshmallows were golden on top. It was time to take it out. If it burned, Dinah would have a fit. She borrowed the oven mitts she saw on the counter and slowly removed the casserole from the oven. “Would you like me to bring this into the dining room, Lucy?” she asked.

“If you’d like, miss,” Lucy said. “Just put it on the sideboard.” Judith did as she was told and then made several more trips from the kitchen, carrying out stuffing, vegetables and other side dishes with Lucy. Some of them didn’t look too bad. She was happy for the distraction and glad not to have to speak to anyone for a few minutes. Teddy was still fussing on Mort’s lap, and her mother was talking to Faye.

On the last trip from the kitchen, Judith carried a white china bowl filled with cranberry sauce. She gripped the bowl carefully but stumbled on one of the tassels of the Persian rug peeking out from under the dining room table. As she landed on her backside, half on the rug and half on the shiny wooden parquet, Aunt Faye gasped. The bowl of crimson sauce was overturned in her lap. Luckily, the bowl was intact.

Lucy rushed over and helped her to her feet. “Come, miss, let’s get you cleaned up,” she whispered. Judith turned to her mother for support, but Rose wouldn’t look at her. Teddy’s fussing turned into a full-on wail and Dinah started whining about the sweet potatoes. Mimi was trying to hide her laughter by covering her mouth with her napkin and Mort was glaring at all of them. Uncle Stuart rose to his feet and poured himself a large glass of scotch from the decanter on the bar cart. Aunt Faye called out to Lucy, “Make a note to call the carpet cleaner tomorrow,” she said. No one asked if Judith was hurt. No one told her not to worry about the spill. The maid was the only one who took note of her at all.

After she and Lucy did whatever they could to clean off her dress, Judith came back into the dining room. The others had started eating, but Teddy was still fussing.

“Aunt Faye, Uncle Stuart, I’m very sorry for the mess,” she said, in as clear a voice as she could manage. “Not to worry dear,” Aunt Faye told her. “The carpet cleaners will be in tomorrow.” Judith looked at Stuart, but he was busy eating his dinner. She walked purposefully over to the sideboard, made a plate of soft foods and put it down at her place. Then she took Teddy from her father’s lap. “I’ll hold him,” she said. Judith held Teddy tightly on her lap, feeding him spoonfuls of mashed potato and stuffing. He cooed appreciatively, and the room was finally quiet.

“What a helpful young lady you are,” Aunt Faye observed. And then, to Rose, “She’s very good with the baby.”

Judith looked up and saw tears in her mother’s eyes. Everyone else was busy eating and didn’t notice.
I’m sorry,
her mother mouthed. Judith gave a little nod to show that she understood.

By the time they got home, it was almost ten o’clock and everyone was exhausted. Judith carried a sleeping Teddy into the house and saw that Aunt Helen had left several covered plates of food for them on the table. Judith’s stomach started growling—she had barely eaten anything the whole day, and she was only just then aware of how hungry she was. There was turkey, stuffing and the same sweet potato casserole Rose had made for Aunt Faye. There was another plate too, just of desserts, and Judith figured there was probably some apple pie in there somewhere. More than anything, she wanted to take off her coat, sit down at the table and start eating the leftovers.

If her mother hadn’t spoken to her that way in Aunt Faye’s kitchen, she probably would have. Even though it was late and the cold food would have given her a stomachache, she would have done it. But now she knew better. When she examined her mother’s expression, she saw what she was expecting: the tightening of the jaw, the hint of a frown, the squinting of the eyes that was imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t looking for it. But Judith
was
looking for it this time, and she could tell Rose was furious that Helen had let herself in and dropped off the food.

If Judith sat down to eat, she knew how her mother would interpret it: even one forkful of pie would mean Judith had taken Helen’s side. Judith was too tired for further arguments, so she walked past the table and pretended not to see the heaping plates. She carried Teddy into his room, changed him into pajamas and put him in his crib. Then she went to her own room, put on a nightgown and got under the covers. As she lay awake, she was unable to shake the feeling that something more complicated than a simple fight over Thanksgiving was going on between her mother and her aunt. Judith wanted to know what it was, but she knew she couldn’t ask. I’m going to have to start paying more attention from now on, she decided. Her stomach was still growling and she was a long way off from sleep.