New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [405]
As for herself, though she loved her tradition, Sarah reckoned that she could probably live in Manhattan without too much difficulty as a secular Jew, and even bring her children up that way—so long as they could experience their heritage whenever they visited her parents. If Charlie would make that compromise, then she could cope. She knew it could be done. She had friends in the city with mixed marriages who seemed to be happy enough.
But that still left the big problem. Her parents. Her father especially. Everyone knew the views of Daniel Adler.
Might it help that her father liked Charlie? “I was worried about you going into the city,” he had told her. “But the gallery is serious, this I can see. And your client Mr. Master—that is a distinguished man, a fine man.” There was no question, her father had liked Charlie a lot. Perhaps that would count for something.
Besides, she could remind her father, his grandchildren would still be Jewish. They’d have a Jewish mother. Maybe Daniel Adler could reconcile himself to having secular grandchildren, so long as they came to Seder at his house where he could educate them. “After all,” she could hear herself telling him, “this way, they still have the choice as they grow older. There’s nothing to stop a child of mine becoming a rabbi even, if he wants to.”
These were the hopes, the calculations, the little scenarios Sarah invented for herself as she sat in her home and thought about the man she loved.
Maybe it could all work out. She didn’t know. Perhaps by the end of the weekend, she’d have a clearer picture. For the time being, she decided it would be better not to speak to anybody about it.
She was caught completely off guard, therefore, when her mother suddenly turned to her in the kitchen that evening before they went to bed, and said: “I hear this man, Mr. Master, is falling in love with you.”
Fortunately, Sarah was so taken by surprise that she just stared at her.
“What do you mean?” she managed to say.
“Ach,” Esther Adler threw up her hands, “you know nothing.”
“Who would think such a thing? And why?”
“Your sister. She told me two days ago. She noticed it when he was here. She was talking to him when I asked you about Adele Cohen’s grandson, and he overheard. He was listening so hard, Rachel said, that he didn’t even answer her questions.”
“And this means he’s in love with me?”
“Why not?”
“You want everyone to be in love with me, Mother. Besides, he’s not Jewish.”
“I said he was in love with you, not that he could marry you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means be careful.”
“I will be careful, Mother. Is this all?”
“If you need to talk to me, Sarah, you can talk to me. Just don’t talk to your father. Do you understand?”
“No, I don’t understand. Can I go to bed now?”
Her mother shrugged. “You can always talk to me.”
Let’s hope so, thought Sarah. For the moment, though, she was glad to escape upstairs.
Sunday morning was peaceful. Sarah and her mother made French toast for the boys. Her father went downstairs to practice the piano. After a few scales, he began to play Chopin. He was playing well.
How happy she felt—how glad that she had a home like this. Charlie would be happy in this setting, she thought. He’d be quite content to read the Sunday paper while her father played the piano below. For him, with his views and his intellect, this wouldn’t be such a terrible transition.
Should she speak to her mother about it, after all? Should she tell her the truth after breakfast, when they were alone? She wasn’t sure.
The boys were still eating when they heard a ring at the doorbell. Her mother was at the stove,