New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [404]
“A Jewish girl with glasses?”
“Oh yes. You’re intelligent and attractive—I dare say he should have married someone like you in the first place. Of course, I’d have been horrified.” She shrugged. “Well, you said you wanted me to be truthful.”
“I do.”
“I just think it’s too late now. Do you like him?”
“Yes. I’ve been thinking really hard. I love him.”
“Lucky Charlie. What do you like about him?”
“A lot of things. I think he’s the most interesting man I’ve ever met.”
“That’s only because he’s older, dear. Older men seem interesting, because they know things. But they may not be so interesting really.”
“Don’t you think he’s interesting? You’re his mother.”
Rose sighed. “I love my son, my dear, and I want the best for him. But I’m too old to hide from reality. Do you know the trouble with Charlie? He’s intelligent, he may even have talent, but he’s old money. Not that he has any, you understand. But he belongs to it. That’s my fault, I’m afraid.” She sighed again. “I mean, it always seemed so important.”
“It isn’t important now?”
“I’m getting old. It’s strange how your view of life changes when you get older. Things …” she made a gesture with her hands, “fall away.”
“I never met old money before Charlie, Mrs. Master. I love Charlie’s manners, and he’s so charming.”
“He is charming. He always was. But let me tell you the trouble with people like us, my dear. We have no ambition.” She paused. “Well, sometimes people of our class have ambition. Look at the two Roosevelts. Two presidents from one family—very different branches of the family, of course, but still …” She stared out of the window again. “Charlie’s not like that. He knows all kinds of things, he’s interesting to talk to, he’s thoughtful, he’s very kind to me—but he’s never done anything. And even with you beside him, dear, I’m afraid he never will. It isn’t in his nature.”
“You think it takes pushy Jewish people to get things done?”
“I don’t know about Jewish. But pushy? Definitely.” She looked at Sarah seriously. “If my son marries you, dear, I don’t know how he’ll be able to afford another family. But even if he finds the money, he will still be old a long time before you are. And as time passes, I’m afraid you will become impatient with him. You deserve something better. That’s all I can tell you.”
“I wasn’t expecting to hear you talk like this.”
“Then you wouldn’t have learned anything, would you?”
“No,” said Sarah, “I guess not.”
On Friday Sarah went home as usual. It was good to be back with her family, and to hear about the daily lives of her brothers. The Shabbat meal passed quietly. During the morning service, she listened to the rabbi and tried not to think about anything else. In the afternoon, though, her brother Michael won three games of checkers against her so easily that he couldn’t believe it. After that, she sat quietly with her thoughts.
What did she feel about Charlie? She really hadn’t expected him to propose to her like that. She hadn’t been prepared at all. Did she love him?
She realized one thing. Whenever he wasn’t there, she missed him. If she saw a picture she liked, or heard a piece of music, or even a joke, she wanted to share it with him. The other day an objectionable client had come into the gallery, and she automatically found herself thinking: I wish Charlie were here, he would hate this man so much.
She liked to dress him the way she thought he ought to look. She’d bought him a blue scarf that he looked very nice in. But he had this terrible old hat, and he absolutely refused to stop wearing it. She didn’t really mind—it just became a challenge to figure out how long it would take to get him to give it up. In fact, she liked the challenge. If he’d given it up without a fight, she’d have been disappointed.
So how would she feel if Charlie were her husband? Pretty good, actually. As for having a little boy that was like Charlie, or a little girl he could dote on—why, that seemed the most wonderful thing in the world.
But what about religion? Would the Master