New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [397]
“I want you to give me at least thirty invitations I can send out, my dear. I’ll write a letter, and telephone. I know a lot of people who I’m sure would buy.”
“That would be wonderful, Mrs. Master,” Sarah said.
They were leaving the building when the tiny incident happened. George the doorman had hailed a taxi. Charlie disliked the usual business of people sliding across the seat, so he’d walked round the taxi while George on the sidewalk held the door open for Sarah. And just as Sarah got into the taxi, he saw the doorman staring down at her head with a look of disgust.
“Is there a problem, George?” he said sharply.
“No, Mr. Master.”
“I hope not,” said Charlie, threateningly. He’d be inheriting that apartment one day, so George had better watch out. He got in beside Sarah, frowning.
“So,” she remarked as they started down Park, “what was that about?”
“Nothing.”
“He looked at me like that when I arrived, too. But you didn’t notice.”
“I’ll have him fired.”
Sarah stared out of the window for a moment, then changed the subject. “Your mother’s great,” she said. “She could be really helpful with those invitations, you know.”
It was a week later when he was having dinner at his mother’s that she brought up the subject of Sarah.
“Your girlfriend seems nice.”
“What do you mean?”
“The girl you brought round.”
“Sarah Adler. She’s doing a good job with the show, I think.”
“I’m sure she is, dear; she seems very competent. She’s also your mistress.” Rose looked him in the eye. “I can tell, you know.”
“Oh.”
“She’s very young. Can you manage?”
“Yes.”
“That’s nice. Is it difficult, her being Jewish?”
“Should it be?”
“Don’t be silly, dear. This isn’t exactly a Jewish building, you know.”
“The damn doorman was impertinent.”
“What do you expect? It’s never arisen, as far as I know, but I don’t imagine the co-op board would let a Jew buy into the building.”
It was one of the features of apartment life in the city that Charlie had always found amusing. Most of the apartment buildings on Park were cooperatives now. His mother no longer rented the apartment, but was a shareholder of the building. And the shareholders elected a board which had the right to vet anyone trying to buy in. So if you wanted to sell your apartment to someone whom the other people in the building thought undesirable, the board could refuse to let you complete the sale. They might give reasons. They might not. But the unspoken rules were generally understood.
“It’s absurd,” he said. “We’re in the 1950s, for God’s sake.”
“There are plenty of buildings that do. On the West Side, anyway.” She gave him a thoughtful look. “You’re not planning to marry her, are you?”
“No.” He was quite taken aback by the idea.
“They’d take you out of the Social Register, you know.”
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Well, I believe they would. They don’t mind people being poor,” said Rose, “but they care about who you marry.”
“Damn the register.”
“Anyway,” she said, matter-of-factly, “you really can’t afford another family, can you?”
Another effect of the relationship was Charlie’s realization that he didn’t actually know much about Judaism. He had Jewish friends; he might go to a wedding or a funeral. The Jewish wedding service, apart from the chuppah and the breaking of the glass, didn’t seem so different from a Christian wedding, as far as Charlie could see. The familiar Christian blessings were clearly taken straight from the Hebrew tradition.
But beyond that he knew very little. Sometimes he’d ask Sarah about her family life, and about Jewish customs. He became quite curious.
It was late in March when Sarah suddenly asked him:
“Do you want to come to a Passover Seder?”
“A Seder? Where?”
“In Brooklyn. With my family.”
“You mean, meet your parents?” He was well aware that Sarah’s parents had no idea of their relationship. Apart from anything, she had explained, they still