The Lady in the Rotunda

THE LADY IN THE ROTUNDA

by BJ Spillberg

Copyright 2012 by Barry Jay Spillberg

Smashwords Edition 1.0

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CHAPTER I

She was falling asleep when a noise in the apartment brought her to full wakefulness. A man’s footsteps in the hallway. He must have forgotten something, she thought, as she reached for her flannel bathrobe. It was actually his bathrobe that he had left here some time ago and she had grown used to wearing it. The soft, checkered cloth reached down to her feet and she enjoyed wrapping herself in the smell of him. She could not find her slippers so she stepped barefoot off the braided rug by her bed onto the cold, wood flooring. If she were not fully awake before, the sharp coldness of the floor made sure of it now. There were more noises out in the hall.

Why don’t you turn on the light and stop stumbling around? she asked while coming out into the hall. She flipped on the switch. Oh, it’s you, she said surprised. When did you come into town? Why didn’t you call me to tell me that you were coming? She walked up to him and gave him a kiss on the lips. He put his arms around her and held her. He smelled of winter. His overcoat was wet, the shoulders and lapels covered with snow. The sleeves of her bathrobe became wet. His lips and cheeks were freezing.

You’re so cold. Here, take your overcoat off while I fix you something hot to drink. Is tea all right? I have to go to the store today and buy some more coffee. I’m all out. She turned and started to go back down the hallway towards the kitchen. He followed her. She felt his hand on the small of her back. I’m not running away. Take off your overcoat and hang it on the rack to dry. And take off your boots. They are wet from the snow and you are leaving muddy tracks. He still followed her, his hand running up her back, now resting on her right shoulder. She was about to turn and order him to take off his things when a cold, hard object pulled across her throat. She started falling backwards, he was pulling her backwards but his right knee was in her back.

What are you doing? she gasped. You’re hurting me. Stop! Her hands went up to her throat. The cold object drew tighter. She could not swallow. She could not breath. She tried to scream but she could only gasp. Somebody help me! she choked out the words. Dizzy. She was getting dizzy.

A moment of cold analytical thought came to her. It was not true. One’s whole life did not run past your eyes at the moment of death. Instead, all she saw was a black hole and she was falling backwards into it. She had to go the bathroom. She had to go badly. Oh, she sighed with relief mixed with panic, and then she fell into darkness.

What time is? Shuli asked.

About 5AM, Mark replied. He sat on the edge of their bed pulling on his jeans over a pair of heavy woolen socks.

Why are you up? Come back to bed.

It snowed last night. Looks like we got about ten inches or so. Have to get the driveway and sidewalk cleared.

Come back to bed. You can start a little later. I’ll help.

He laughed. Some help you are. You’ll go out for fifteen minutes, complain of being cold and then run back into the house. He leaned back and kissed her. You stay here. It doesn’t look that bad, mostly powder, I think. It shouldn’t take me that long. I’ll be back before you know it.

You’ll be all cold from the outside, she complained.

So? You’ll warm me up. He kissed her again. He did think about delaying his departure for just a few moments but thought better of it. It would not just be for a few moments and he, more than likely, would not have the energy afterwards to lift a shovel, let alone attack the driveway. I’ll be back, he said in his best Shwarzennegger imitation and stood up. He wore a light sweatshirt over a t-shirt.

Are you going to take our friends out? Shuli asked.

Yes, on my way now to release the hounds. You go back to sleep. I’ll be back in awhile. He padded down the hall in his stocking feet and climbed the backstairs to the third floor. The door was closed to his father’s study but light peeked through from underneath. Mark knocked on the door and stuck his head in. His father was seated on a rocking chair by his desk, dressed in his pajamas giving a bottle to a small bundle wrapped in a large embroidered blanket. Hey, Pop.

Ben Asher looked up and smiled. Oh, good morning, Mark.

Which one do you have?

Little Amalia. Figured I’d catch up on some e-mail so I got up. Stopped by the nursery just to check and noticed that she was up and starting to complain. Didn’t want her to wake up her sister so I brought her up here with a warm bottle.

Mark came over and stared down at the little blond fuzzy head. She’s really going at it. Quite the appetite.

It would appear to be the case. They are both good eaters though this one seems always to be hungry.

That or she’s your favorite. She’s always in your lap getting a bottle.

Humph. Maybe so. After seven children, the eighth one finally looks like me. This little bundle is a dead ringer for your cousin, Shoshi. She looks exactly like the baby picture of Shoshi I carry in my wallet.

And, Marissa looks like the rest of us. Gee, Pop, if I had realized you felt so left out, I would have dyed my hair blonde a long time ago.

And still wound up looking like your mother. No, that’s okay, Mark. He pulled the bottle back and turned Amalia onto her belly to burp her. He ran his hand up and down her back. What are you doing up so early, anyway?

You didn’t notice that it snowed last night? Came upstairs to get the dogs and let them out. They like to run around the yard while I shovel.

One phone call to Carmine and we’ll be plowed out by seven.

No offense, Pop, but Carmine does a lousy job. He leaves patches everywhere and I still have to go out after he plows and clean up. Rather do it the right way. It’s good exercise and I find it very peaceful.

Yes, and it smells a lot better than this little lady who I think just pooped in her panties. Making more room for the rest of her bottle, I’m sure. I’ll feed her the rest, change her and then come out to help.

Okay, Pop. Mark bent down and kissed the top of his youngest sister’s head. Amalia and her slightly older twin, Marissa, were now just five weeks old. His mother, at the ripe old age of fifty-two, had given birth to twin girls, more than thirty years after giving birth to Mark, and his twin brother, Michael, and almost twenty years after giving birth to Mark’s, up until then, youngest sibling, Carl. His mother was fine, a little worn, but doing remarkably well. The babies, much to everyone’s relief, were healthy, strong and always hungry. Marissa was blue eyed and dark-haired, resembling the rest of her siblings. Amalia was blue-eyed and blonde, resembling his father and Uncle Gary’s children and grandchildren. Mark, who had a lot of experience with babies, having fed, burped and diapered some of his younger siblings, enjoyed the two little ones. He liked to hold both of them in his arms and rock back and forth in the large chair in the family room listening to soft music. His brother called him Mother Mark.

Rifti murmured from her bed, Morning, Mark. Are you taking the dogs out?

Yes, Sweetie. It snowed and I’m going out to shovel. Come on Sheba, Little Boy. Want to go out? A large gray head lifted up from the bottom of Rifti’s bed. With a grunt, Sheba, picked herself up and with a thud landed on the floor. Little Boy, her brother, stood up – he had been sleeping on the large area rug in the middle of the room – and stretched. Ten months old, both dogs were quite large. Sheba weighed nearly one hundred pounds, and while smaller, Little Boy, was by no means a shrimp, tipping the scales at close to eighty. Neither the vet nor anyone else cared to speculate just how large Sheba would grow. She was vastly larger than her mother. Rifti and Tevet, whose dogs these were, and who had raised the mother, had no clue as to the identity of the father. Mark thought, only half jokingly, that the father had been a bear, as Sheba tended to display ursine tendencies. She displayed one now, getting on her hind legs and placing her front paws on Mark’s chest. Mark patted her head and ordered her in a mock serious tone to get down. She grunted and fell off to one side. Downstairs, Mark said. The dogs bolted out of the room and down the backstairs. Mark looked over at Rifti. She had turned over and had fallen back to sleep. Her sister, Tevet, in the other bed, had not budged.

The dogs pranced around in the kitchen, impatient to go out. Mark ordered them to wait as he pulled a water proof anorak from its hook by the door. He sat on a stool at the kitchen island, lacing up his duck hunting boots. Pulling on his gloves, he opened the door, and the screen door and waited for the dogs to go out. Little Boy led the way and dove chest deep into powder. Sheba leaped on top of him and the two started to roll and growl, flinging snow into the air. Mark flipped on the driveway flood lights so he could see.

The world was white. Like some arctic tundra, the ground was an unbroken white. The trees, the green needled Norfolk pines and blue spruces, were white. The cars in the parking area adjacent to the garage were white. The lake was white. Mark took the wide, orange blade snow shovel that was propped up by the back door, shook the snow off and made his first exploratory thrust into the white. While deep, the snow was powder, light as a feather, fine grained like white sugar. With just a few good shovels’ full, he cleared the back landing and jumped shin deep into the white.

He gave a low whistle. Sheba cocked her head. Stay in the area, he ordered. She gave him a wag of her tail and bounded off towards the back yard followed by Little Boy nipping at her heels, two gray snow otters. Mark pushed a shovel-wide path across the expanse of the driveway and then pushed a path perpendicular straight down the driveway for about twenty feet. He got into a rhythm, knees bent slightly, lifting a shovel of snow and throwing it using the strength of his legs and buttocks and, hopefully, not his back. Shovel, lift, throw, take a step up the driveway, repeat. Because of the depth, he could not thrust all the way to the edge. He did one row at a time, widening the initial path and then repeating the process. It was important to get to the edge and keep the driveway as wide as possible. Finishing one side, he turned around and worked on the other side. He was warm. The air smelled fresh. Every so often, he would stop and whistle for the dogs. They would come up, shaking the snow from their long, thick fur, tracking snow into the newly shoveled area. Mark would pat their heads and then send them off to the back yard again.

The back door slammed. Ben came out, a snow shovel over his shoulder. Dressed much like Mark, in a windbreaker, duck boots and jeans, Ben wore ski goggles. The sun had yet to make an appearance though the sky beyond the pines along the edge of the backyard had started to glow pink. Ben surveyed Mark’s work. Gee, you’re like a machine. You’re almost down to the end of the driveway.

Still have the sidewalk in front of the house to do and the car park.

Yeah. I notice the town plow hasn’t come past yet. We might as well leave the lip until last. Why don’t I brush off the cars and back them down and clean up the back?

Okay, Pop. Here. Catch. Mark tossed him his keys. Ben snatched them out of the air, waved and went towards the back. Mark could hear the engine of one of the cars burp and then start. The dogs came out from the back to see what was going on. Ben gave them a ride down the driveway in Mark’s pick up truck. Sheba went with Ben up the driveway. Little Boy was content to lie on the snow watching Mark shovel the sidewalk. The sounds of snow blowers and shovels could be distinctly heard. Mark waved to several of the neighbors who were now up and cleaning off their driveways. The town plow came by, the driver was an old high school classmate of Mark’s. Mark waved as he the plow went by. The plow stopped.

The passenger side window of the plow opened. Hey, Hoss. You living home now?

Mark came up to the plow. Hey, Cubby. Yeah, for the moment anyway. Rent’s cheap and I don’t have to do my own laundry. How you doing? Mark, his brother, Mike, and Cubby Brown had played basketball together in high school.

Doing okay, Hoss. Me and Charlene just had our fourth.

Wow! Four? That’s great.

Heard you got married. You still in the Air Force?

Nah, got out about five months ago. Mikey and I both did. Yeah, got married, too. No kids yet. Mikey’s wife’s expecting twins anytime now.

Twins? Really. Wow!! Heard your mother had twins.

Yeah, and my sister, Jenna, too. Everything seems to be running in twos around here.

Yeah, that’s something. Hey, we’ve got a pick up game going on down the high school gym Saturday afternoons, if you and Mikey can make it. Be like old times.

Sounds good, Cubby. Maybe, we’ll try to get down there. Say hi to Charlene for me.

Will do, Hoss. Take care. The plow rumbled off. Ben had come down to help shovel out the driveway lip, now that the plow had dumped all the street snow into it.

That was Cubby Brown, Mark said to his father. Haven’t seen him since high school. We used to play varsity together. His old man used to work for the town DPW.

And it looks like he, too, has inherited the family business. You bumping into a lot of your old high school friends?

No, not really, Pop. Not that many around. A couple of the girls, I’ve bumped into, Cubby. About it. Everyone else has gone, scattered. Gone to find cheaper real estate, I figure. Not too cheap around here as I’ve discovered.

You don’t have to move out, Mark. We’ve had this conversation several times. I’ve enjoyed having you around and I know your mother has as well. The girls are wonderful. Shuli and Dafna are the best of friends. I even enjoy those two. He pointed to the dogs who were tumbling down the embankment of the front lawn onto the newly shoveled sidewalk, dumping a pile of snow back in. Mark yelled at them and was ignored. They ran up the hill to tumble down again.

Yes, Pop, I know that, Mark continued the conversation, but I sort of feel funny living under my parents’ roof like I’m a kid again. We need our own place.

So, how’s the search going?

Actually, not too badly. Got a couple of interesting leads. One from the Blockers, Aunt Batya’s neighbors. They’re thinking about selling out and moving to the Holy Land.

Israel? They’re moving to Israel?

Ah, no, Pop. South Florida.

Uh huh, that Holy Land. Well, be careful with that. Blocker is a bit of a gonif, a thief, and if memory serves, the house is a bit of a dump.

The dump part doesn’t bother me. I’ve grown pretty handy over the last six months fixing up our place in Vermont. If I can get it for a reasonable price, and I’ll take your warning about Mr. Blocker under advisement, it would be a good purchase. Not a far walk to the high school, right next door to Aunt Batya, and just down the street from Shuli’s sister, Gail.

Well, good luck. Here, let’s get this crap up off the driveway before it freezes making it twice as hard to shovel. The plow had deposited boulder size pieces of frozen ice and snow on top of what had already fallen. It took them some time to clear the lip. Mark made the opening wider than the driveway itself to allow for people to swing in easily from the road in either direction. The sun was up now. The sky was a pure blue. The snow covered pines glistened.

I think we’re done, Ben said looking up the driveway from the street.

Yep, Pop, I think you’re right. Let’s go in. I’ll make you some pancakes for breakfast. Mark whistled for the dogs. Sheba stuck her head up out of a pile of snow midway up the driveway. Home, Sheba. In the house, he called pointing in the direction of the kitchen door. Sheba exploded out of the snow and loped towards the house. Little Boy, who had been standing with the men, walked at a dignified pace up the driveway. It was no longer all white. A black asphalt ribbon connected the parking area with its cars of varied hues and the street. The tundra was interrupted by a host of paw prints.

Ben opened the back door. Sheba ran in, pushing Ben aside and charged up the backstairs. No, Sheba, Mark called. Wait. You’re all wet. Moments later, there was a scream. Mark grimaced. Oh, damn, I’m in for it now. He stomped the snow off his boots, grabbed a couple of dirty towels that were hanging on hooks, and ran after Sheba, taking the stairs three at a time. His bedroom door was wide open. Sheba was on their bed, laying prone over Shuli, licking her face. Shuli’s hands were up trying to ward off Sheba’s affection without much success. Mark grabbed the dog and managed to push her off the bed onto the floor. He trapped her in the two towels and attempted to dry her off.

You did that on purpose, Shuli accused. You sent her up here all wet.

Mark tried hard not to laugh. No, no, Sweetheart, I didn’t, I swear. Pop opened the back door and she ran right in and came upstairs before I had a chance to dry her off.

Shuli sat up. I’m all cold and wet. The quilt is all wet.

I’m sorry, I really am. She has a mind of her own and she loves you. Sheba finally realizing that she might be in trouble, sat up on her hind quarters in front of Shuli and offered her mistress a gray, snow matted paw. Oh, Shuli said and leaned over and kissed Sheba on the nose. How can I stay mad at you? Sheba responded by drenching Shuli’s face with her tongue. Mark finally got the dog more dry than wet and swatted her affectionately on her behind. Go find Rifti, Sheba, Rifti. Sheba grunted and ran out of the room. Moments later, they heard a muffled yell from upstairs.

That was mean, Shuli said. She started to take off her wet pajamas.

Wait, Mark got up. The bedroom door is open. He closed the door and handed Shuli a bathrobe.

The only men in the house are you and your father, Shuli said letting herself be enwrapped by Mark’s arms.

And Little Boy, Mark added, though he could care less what you look like without clothes, especially now that he’s been fixed. Mark spun her around and gave her a long kiss. Shuli’s eyes were still closed when he let her go. You feel warmer now? he asked.

Mmmmm. she murmured. Want to save on hot water?

Later, after breakfast. I promised Pop I’d make him some pancakes first.

With blueberries? And real maple syrup?

Spoken like a true Vermonter. I don’t know if we have any blueberries. It’s a little out of season, but we do have real maple syrup. I brought a couple of cans home last weekend. Put on something under the robe and wear your slippers, the kitchen floor is bound to be all wet, and come down. We can discuss the saving of hot water afterwards.

They found Ben making French toast. Sorry, he said to Mark, but I thought you might have gotten a better offer so I decided to make my own breakfast.

He did, Shuli sniffed, but he lured me down with promises of blueberries and maple syrup. She looked at the pan on the stove. That smells good, too.

Good thing I made a lot of batter then. I presume you like your challah toast thick and eggy.

Yes, please. Pull out the syrup, Mark. At least we can have some of that.

Rifti came into the kitchen with pillow hair, wearing a long bathrobe and fluffy bunny slippers. Morning, she said giving each of the adults a kiss. She plopped down in a chair at the island and poured herself a tall glass of orange juice. That dog, she started in English and finished with a long statement in Farsi.

In English, Rifti, Shuli said. Say it in English.

I don’t know how to say it in English. Rift and her older sister, Tevet, were the adopted daughters of Mark and his brother, Mike. The brothers had rescued the girls from certain slavery at an oasis in Afghanistan six months earlier.

Try. It is the only way your English will improve.

Rifti shook her head. All right. That damned, stupid, mother of a dog jumped into my bed and woke me the fuck up. She got me all wet with that damned, stupid, mother of a tongue.

Whoa! Mark put up a hand. Who taught you to speak like that? I’m sure Sheza didn’t.

No, Sheza did not. That’s how Abby and Michal talk. Abby and Michal were Mike’s teenage sisters-in-law, recently relocated to America from Israel when their father took a job at Harvard. They lived down the street and were frequent visitors having taken the two Afghani girls under their wing.

Oh, great, you learn English from those two beauties. Mark shook his head.

Careful, Mark. Those two beauties are your cousins, Ben warned. Ronit, the girls’ mother was Mark’s mother’s first cousin.

Yes, Pop, with mouths like longshoremen.

Well, get used to it. Aren’t they spending February vacation with you guys up in Vermont?

Abby is. I think Michal got herself grounded. Came back from a date last Saturday drunk as a skunk. According to Aviva, the girl spent all day Sunday throwing up and her father grounded her. A total blackout I’m told. No, phone, no Internet, no going out after school or the weekends for the next two weeks.

He’ll relent, Ben said. She’ll bat her pretty eyes at him and he’ll give in. Eric speaks a good story but when it comes to Ronit and her daughters, he’s as soft as mush. Always has been, always will be.

Well, fine. Mark turned to Rifti. Young lady, I do not want you to copy the way Abby and Michal speak English. They do not speak it well or properly. Is that understood?

Rifti said something in Farsi. Shuli broke out laughing. What did she say? Mark looked from Rifti to Shuli and back again. It had better have been yes, Mark.

She said she’s heard you speak much worse, Shuli replied.

Mark pursed his lips. Yes, I am sure you have, Rifti, but I am not a proper young lady. We are trying to raise you as one. Proper young ladies do not use the words you just used. As for me, I will try to clean up my language and speak it properly as well. He held out his hand. Do we have an agreement to speak proper English from now on? Rifti smirked but held out her hand and they shook. She said something else to Shuli.

She doesn’t think you can keep your word.

Oh really? Shall we make it a bet? Let’s see. If I keep my language clean for a week, you have to wash my truck for a whole month. You have to speak English the whole week, properly and I will pay the fuel cost for Uncle Danny to take you up in his Phantom jet for one hour.

Two hours in Uncle Danny’s jet, Rifti said folding her arms across her chest.

All right, two hours. Shuli will be the judge. Deal? Rifti nodded. Good. This is a bet we can both win. I get my truck washed and you get to fly.

Ben laughed. All right, you paragons of virtue, who wants the first batch of French toast? Rifti?

The dogs came into the kitchen and stopped by their dishes. Sheba, noticing that there was no food, came up to Mark and swatted his leg with a paw. Oh, you and your brother want breakfast? Why should I feed you? You got me into trouble. Sheba looked up at him and swatted his leg again. Mark rolled his eyes. All right. He went into the pantry and brought out a new fifty pound bag of dog food. He scooped out cups liberally. Sheba inspected her dish and barked once. Oh, sorry, Mark apologized as he opened the refrigerator door and selected a bottle of grated parmigiana cheese. He liberally sprinkled the cheese over the dog food in both dishes. Satisfied, the dogs ate quickly and noisily. Too damned smart for their own good, Mark growled.

Rifti clapped her hands. I won.

What? Mark, realizing what he had just said, slapped his forehead. All right, Ms. Rifti-Tifti, double or nothing. Same bet, only if you lose, you don’t have to wash my truck but you lose your two hours of flying. If I lose, you get four hours. Deal?

Deal, Rifti said smiling.

Careful, Mark, Shuli cautioned, you’ll land up buying her the airplane.

I know. The, he paused and thought for a moment, accursed Air Force ruined my ability to speak cleanly. It is, uh, hellishly – is that okay to say? – difficult to speak properly after all those years in the field.

My poor baby, Rifti said stroking Mark’s arm. Mark just looked at her. It’s a good thing, he said, you cannot hear my thoughts.

Yes. Rifti nodded. It is a good thing. I would win more flying time, I think. She leaned over and kissed Mark’s cheek. Mark smiled and kissed the top of her head.

Ben made a lot of French toast and a goodly portion of one can of maple syrup was consumed. Tevet came down, freshly showered, her hair wrapped in a towel. She, too, kissed everyone and then knelt down by Sheba, who sat beneath Rifti’s chair, occasionally catching pieces of toast dropped by Rifti from her plate, and said a few words in the dog’s ear. Sheba licked Tevet’s hand and rolled over onto her side allowing Tevet to rub her belly. Little Boy, noticing that his sister was getting her belly rubbed, walked up and plopped over onto his back. Tevet spent the next few minutes vigorously rubbing the bellies of both dogs while Ben made her breakfast.

Dafna is up but the babies are still asleep, Tevet said.

Ben looked at the kitchen clock. We’ll have to wake the two of them up soon. Can’t let them sleep too late or it throws off their schedule.

What time is Sheza coming in? Mark asked. Sheza was the girls’ academic tutor. Neither had ever attended school until they moved to America. Sheza was a graduate student studying under Dafna’s Asher’s tutelage and part of her master’s thesis work dealt with bringing the two girls up to speed academically so that they might be entered in their age-normal class in public school.

Nine O’clock, Tevet answered.

Have you completed your assignments for today?

Tevet looked at her sister. I have, Tevet said. Rifti said nothing, just shook her head.

Uh huh. Young lady, Mark addressed Rifti, the rule is homework assignments must be completed before class. You’ve got an hour to shower, clean up your area and get whatever you have left to do for today’s lessons completed. No more dawdling over your breakfast. Get a move on. I’ll be up in awhile to check on your room. Rifti made a face, drained the rest of the juice from her glass and went up the backstairs. The two dogs followed her.

They sat and drank coffee. What’s on the agenda for today? Ben asked.

Shuli shrugged. Rosie is coming by later. We have an appointment at Adams Global Casualty up in Framingham at 11AM to go over our proposal for doing a cyber audit of their networks and data systems. After that, she’s dropping me off at MCU on the way to the office. I’ve got two lectures this afternoon. I’ll catch the train home. Is anybody going to be around to pick me up at the train station?

I should be, Ben said. I’m working from home today.

You’ve been doing that a lot lately, Mark commented.

Yeah, well, I have these two little excuses. I’ve made a conscious decision to spend as much time with them as I can, and unlike when you and your brother were small, Mark, I can get away with it. And it’s good for my subordinates to get used to doing things more on their own without the boss continuously peering over their shoulder.

I don’t remember being deprived of a parent growing up, Pop.

That, my son, is because you were raised in a group environment at the Brookline apartment building. You had all your uncles and aunts around as well as your brothers and sisters and cousins. There were plenty of people to watch you and take care of you and give you all the affection you needed. Here, while we do have relatives living near us, they don’t live here with us. And, I must confess, I like babies. I like their little hands, and their sweet smell, and their little toes. I’m sort of father and grandfather all wrapped up in one.

Ben stopped and looked at his son. Which brings me to a topic we discussed earlier today. Why do you want to move out? It doesn’t cost you anything to live here. There’s plenty of room. We don’t seem to be tripping over each other. We don’t get into fights. I find it nice having you, Shuli and the girls.

Shuli stopped her husband from answering. I don’t want to move, Dad. He’s got this hair across his butt that in order to be an adult, and be married, and be the head of the household, one has to live in one’s own house.

Look, I can understand that. I had the same feeling when I was planning the move back to the States with your mother and your brothers and sisters, and I had the same discussion with my parents, though, my biggest reason was that I really didn’t get along with my father very well. In fact, while I loved and respected my father, I couldn’t stand being in the same room with him. There were things that had happened that made me very uncomfortable to be in his presence. But, Mark, you and I have a much better relationship, at least I think we do.

We do, Pop, we really do. No, I’ve liked being home. Haven’t really spent any time home in eleven or twelve years, and I’ve enjoyed it. But, I guess I am stubborn, like all we Ashers are, and I feel that I am not being a responsible person living through my parents’ largesse.

Well, we could start charging you for rent and board, if that would make you feel better.

Mark shrugged. That’s not what I mean, Pop.

Shuli rolled her eyes. Please. This would go down a lot easier if you weren’t such a tight wad. Dad, it’s one thing to say, we’re going to find a place of our own, find it, and move out. Oh, no. We have to conform to some strange rules about budget and not living beyond our means. So, rather than making the whole thing simple, it is now complex. The right house, in the right neighborhood, at the right price. While I really don’t want to move, Dad, I’d be more than willing to fund the purchase myself and get the whole process over and done with. Stop the pain.

But we should try to make a conscious effort to live within our means.

Shuli sighed. I know what it is to live within one’s means. I lived on a kibbutznik’s allowance my whole adult life until we moved here last summer. Do you know how restrictive that is? You’ve got to almost take out a loan to afford a lousy felafel. Now, that I’ve left and have come into my inheritance, you won’t let me spend any of it.

That’s not true. You bought the SUV on your own.

Yeah, because I didn’t want to lose a kidney bouncing along in that monstrosity of a pick up truck you bought. Damn it, Mark! What’s the harm? We both have enough money to buy and sell the entire town twice over. We can’t possibly spend it all.

Ben held up his hand. Enough. I didn’t mean to start an argument between the two of you. Where are you off to today, Mark?

Meeting Mikey over at Bobby’s office late this morning. Bobby’s allowing us to help him with the Susita Robotics IPO preparation work for a class project.

How’s school going?

Not bad. I’ve taken and passed the exams for all the academic classes. Mikey’s a little pissed at me that I’m going to finish in one year, and he’s stuck doing another but that’s tough.

Shuli stared at him. I didn’t know that. You never tell me anything about school. Are you as smart as your cousin, Shoshi?

Mark laughed. No, no. I may be almost as good as Shoshi, quantitatively but I don’t have her abilities in languages or writing skills. Mikey’s no academic slouch but I’m better than he is with numbers and science. And, of course, he’s much better than I am in languages. It’s sort of like when they passed out the family brains, they gave half to me and half to Mikey. Shoshi, on the other hand, got the whole package, and then some. I guess, little Hannah is up there, too.

You must be very smart. Your buddy, Paddy, always calls you the brain-boy.

Mark smirked. Compared to Paddy, Sheba is a genius. Anybody would look like a brain-boy to him

Shuli, your husband is putting on his humility act. He graduated at the top of his class at the Academy with one of the highest averages on record. If he hadn’t chosen the service, he, too, would have most likely become a physics professor like his cousin, and a good one, too, I might add. He’s a lot smarter than he looks or acts.

Gee, thanks, Pop.

Benya? Dafna called down the backstairs. The girls are up and want to be fed. Heat up a couple of bottles of formula, would you please?

Yes, dear, right away, Ben called back. Well, duty and my little girls call.

Mike looked at Shuli. Is that offer to share hot water still on the table?

Shuli nodded and smiled. Why, yes it is, brain-boy.

Hey, Shuli, Tevet yelled through the closed and locked bedroom door. Rosario’s on the phone for you. Tevet waited a few moments. Come on, Shuli, we know what you guys are doing. Take a break and answer the phone, please.

Shuli emerged from the bedroom, soaking wet, wrapped in a towel. Tevet handed her the portable handset smirking. Shuli took the handset saying something to Tevet in Farsi.

I have a dirty mind? Tevet protested with a laugh. I don’t think so. What does Mark say? He calls them like he sees them? I do, too. She turned and walked down the hall, exaggerating the sway of her hips.

Shuli put the handset to her ear and started to speak to her friend in Hebrew. Rosie? Hi. What’s up? Sure, I can drive. Not a problem. We’re all shoveled out. Sure. Ten o’clock. I have the whole thing on my laptop. Yes, in presentation format. I have the projector, too. What do you think? I’m always prepared. Yeah, all right, once, but that was a long time ago. Can’t a girl screw up once? You have to keep bringing that up. All right. I’ll see you at ten. L’hitraot.

Shuli and Rosario had known each other and had been close friends since their first days in the Israeli Army as draftees when they were eighteen years old. An orphan from Argentina, Rosario had immigrated to Israel after completing her high school education. Shulamit, the daughter of Dafna Asher’s classmate, Liora, and Joe Rossi, a US marine corporal who had served under Ben Asher during the Yom Kippur War, had passed the intelligence screening program and been selected for field intelligence work. The two had gone off to officer training together in military intelligence. After training, Shuli had gone into field operations, primarily in Central Asia, working for Mossad, the Israeli foreign intelligence service. Rosario was selected for advanced training in computers and had studied at the Technion while doing various assignments for the domestic and foreign intelligence branches. On assignment in Boston last summer, Rosario met and fell in love with Bobby Rosenzweig, Mark Asher’s cousin, resigned from the service at the behest of Mark’s twin brother, Michael, and bumped into Shulamit Rossi, her old friend, who herself had just become engaged to Mark. The two friends, looking for something to do, decided to use their military training in the business world and had formed CCS, Corporate Computer Security, to assist businesses in developing secure computer networks and systems.

Shuli, entering the bedroom, said to Mark, That was Rosie. Her car won’t start. She wants me to drive.

Mark, who had just gotten out of the shower and was toweling himself off, replied. Fine but be careful. Four-wheel drive goes through snow nicely but slides real well on the ice.

I know all that, Mark. I’ve been driving in this horrible winter weather for four months.

You’ve been driving in Vermont where they plow the roads. Down here, they don’t do as good a job. So, just be careful. SUVs can tip over just as easily as any other vehicle, probably easier.

Yes, dear. She snapped Mark’s behind with a towel. Mark grabbed the towel and pulled her close to him. He started to pick her up. You continue with this, I’m going to need another shower, she warned.

Good, and so will I. There’s still plenty of hot water.

Bobby and Rosie had bought themselves a Cape-style house several blocks in from South Main Street. The driveway was plowed and Rosario’s old Hyundai sat in the driveway, cold and dead.

You want me to give you a jump? Shuli asked when she came into the house.

No, won’t help. I need a new battery. The old one won’t hold a charge, Rosario said, helping her friend off with her coat. Somebody from the garage will be by later to put one in. We have to drop the keys off on our way out.

Shuli kissed her friend’s cheek and then looked at her. You look horrible. You’re as pale as a ghost?

I feel better than I look. Been throwing up all morning.

Shuli put her hand to Rosario’s forehead. You don’t seem to have a fever. Was it something you ate?

It was everything I ate. I can’t keep a damn thing down in the mornings. I’ve been like this for a couple of days.

Uh huh. We aren’t pregnant, are we?

Rosario shrugged. I don’t know. Not yet my time of the month so I don’t know if I’ve missed. I’m not running a fever or anything. It’s just every morning, any strange odor, or not so strange odor will set me off. By the afternoon I’m fine and am as hungry as a horse and I can keep anything and everything down.

Sounds like you’re suffering from morning sickness to me, not speaking from experience, of course.

Of course. I have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow to have a blood test.

Were we trying to get pregnant?

Well, yes and no. Not really making a conscious effort like Michael and Aviva were doing last summer but not trying really hard to prevent it either.

Well, it will be interesting. You’re mother-in-law will insist on moving in to take care of you.

Rosario rolled her eyes. Oy, that’s all I need. Naomi will drive me nuts. Maybe we can keep it a secret until after I deliver. Or she can move in, and I’ll move in with you.

Uh huh. You may want to think about that for a minute. You want to move in with Mr. Neat and Clean? It’s like being in basic all over again. All his shirts and pants are neatly hung and spaced exactly in his side of the closet. All his underwear is folded and placed exactly in the drawers, the shoes lined up under his side of the bed. The bed is made precisely and there’s not a speck of dust or dirt. He doesn’t even think about it. He does it automatically.

Aviva says that Michael is the same way. Must be that Air Force training. I think all they do is clean.

He even does his own ironing. Doesn’t like the way I do it. You sure you want to live with that? I would think that Aunt Naomi, even at her wackiest, can’t be as fussy as Mark.

Rosario shook her head. No, she’s not like that. She likes to hover and be your best friend which I suppose is sort of okay, if she would just leave you a little space. But, she’s smothering, and she and Bobby don’t really get along that well. If he doesn’t do exactly what she says when she says it, it sets her off, and she is one tough old lady. Bobby runs and hides. Why do you think we stay with you guys when we come up to Vermont?

I would think it’s because we’re best friends and like each other’s company.

There’s that, too, but mainly, Bobby doesn’t want to spend any more time with his mother than he has to. If I’m pregnant, Naomi will be down here taking care of the mother of her precious grandchild. I wish that Ray would knock Paula up and this way the pressure would be off. Naomi’s time would be split between us and Ray gets along much better with her. He’s like Avi, his father. He listens politely and then ignores her, and she’ll get mad at him, and he doesn’t care.

Do you feel well enough to go to this meeting? I can handle it myself if you’re not up to it.

Uh huh. Shuli, you know the business end but you couldn’t answer a technical question. You need me for that. I’m okay now. The nausea has passed.

All right, but it doesn’t make a good impression if one of the company’s owners throws up all over a prospective client.

Ha, ha. If I get sick, I’ll be lady-like about it. I’ll just turn green and run out of the room retching.

They dropped off Rosario’s car keys at the garage near town center on their way out to the highway. Normally, Shuli would have driven up Route 27 to get to Framingham. It was quicker and more direct, but because of the snow fall, she decided it would be best to take the highway on the assumption that the highway would be better plowed. She remembered Mark’s comment about the quality of snow plowing as she was driving in the passing lane, the lane disappeared beneath snow and ice and she had a difficult time keeping control of the