Chapter 2
Andie’s heart picked up a few notches as she stared at Leo, his proposition a swirl of glitter hanging in the air between them. Light the candles with Leo? She had no one to celebrate with this year, not since her father passed away. Dinner with her hot neighbor fell firmly under the perk heading. The timing stunk, since she’d be moving soon, but it couldn’t hurt to have a little fun this Chanukah, right?
Her father would want her to celebrate with someone. And he’d know she’d jump in with both feet. The only person to trust her instincts more than her.
“Sure, come on in.”
He stepped into her unit, bringing the delicious scents of food right under her nose. She closed the door behind him, shedding her coat and purse by the hook. Leo placed the food on her well-loved square dining table that had seen better days. Unfortunately, her other belongings had been placed there, and tampons did not inspire her to eat good food with a good-looking man, so she scooped up everything but the candles, walked down the short hall to her bedroom, deposited them on her unmade bed, and closed the door.
There, better.
She returned to her dining room, pushing up the leather cuff bracelet on her wrist as she walked.
“That’s an interesting cuff,” Leo said.
She lifted her sweater higher to show off the band. “I had it made recently, the thicker leather is from a belt of my father’s, the thinner is from one my mother had.” The thinner leather crossed over the thicker, a perfect match for her style.
“It’s nice.”
“Thanks.” She came to the table and rested on the back of a chair. “No plans yourself for the first night of Chanukah?”
“I’ve been too busy with work. I’ll see family toward the end for the big get-together.”
Big get-together . The words said so casually, and they resonated deep within her. It hinted at a close-knit extended family where laughter reined. The type of gathering she longed for even though she never had the experience.
The type of gathering she wouldn’t want to wait for night eight to enjoy.
“But nothing before then?” The concept felt strange to her. When her father was alive she spent at least a few sunsets with him, and often lit candles with friends as well. This year she had no concrete plans, and it made her feel her loss all the more.
A big, loving family had always been her dream. All she had left were a few distant relatives who were so drama-filled that her father cut ties when she was small. As a result, she didn’t know them. The only numbers she had were found in her father’s handwritten contact list, and a great number of those proved outdated when she tried them after he died.
“Just volunteering for the Hebrew school Chanukah party that my conniving niece roped me into.” His voice held an amused tone and the glint in his eyes said his niece held a soft spot in his heart.
It nearly made her purr. Large family with cherished children . She pushed it aside. “Is it still volunteering if you were roped in?”
“As I said, I’ve been busy.”
A Leo-shaped puzzle piece began sliding into place: works long hours, doting uncle. She focused on the former because she liked the doting uncle side far too much. “Workaholic then. You know, they have programs for that.”
Leo chuckled; eyebrows raised. “They do?”
Andie nodded. “They do. It starts with helping a neighbor with a ripped bag and lighting candles together.”
His grin grew large, crinkling the corner of his eyes, and she felt the flames of the candles they hadn’t yet lit, warming up the space between them.
“What about you?”
She pulled down two plates and two cups and brought them over to the table. “I don’t think I’d consider myself a workaholic, but I do enjoy my job.”
“No family to celebrate with?”
She sighed and brought over silverware as Leo unpacked his bag. “My father passed eight months ago. Before that it had been just the two of us for as long as I can remember. Now it’s just me.” She tried to smile, to put on her brave orphan face, but this was her first Chanukah without him and it hurt. Probably why she only managed to uncover her menorah this morning.
“I’m sorry,” Leo said. “Explains the bracelet.”
She fingered the leather around her wrist, working to contain the ache in her chest. “That it does. And the rest is not your fault. We should light the menorah before we eat.” She collected the candles and moved away from the table, doing her best to leave her sad memories behind. She could be sad later.
She had her menorah set up on a small table in front of her window. A simple but old one. It had been her father’s. A strange mix of hurt and family warmth filled her, and she was glad Leo had helped her, because she really did not want to be alone the first night.
“That’s a nice menorah,” he said.
“Thanks. I think my grandmother gave it to my father as a gift, something she had when she was young.”
He brushed a hand along the tarnished base. “Antiques are my thing. I figured it was old.”
“Antiques, huh? Don’t find that much in people our age.”
“Family business. I grew up with it and wouldn’t want to do anything else.” His words felt heavy, some other meaning stirring underneath.
She shook out two candles from the box, one blue, one yellow. “There’s something there, in the way you said it. Is that the truth or is it one of those ‘you’ll follow the family business or else’ things?”
He blinked at her, a note of surprise in his brown eyes. “You caught that, huh?”
“I’m good at reading people.”
“Not wanting to do anything else is true. However, my father wants to sell the family business, and his sons are not his first choice.”
“Ouch. That sucks. I’m sorry.” Andie set the two candles in the menorah. She didn’t get family conflicts. Life was too short. She wanted a warm, loving family to walk in to. Sure, perhaps she was swayed by life with her dad and holiday movies, but her gut said it existed, and she wouldn’t settle for less.
She grabbed her matches, facing her companion. “How long has it been since you’ve celebrated?”
Leo raised a single eyebrow. How did he do that? She’d tried practicing as a kid and eventually gave up. On him it looked sexy as hell and she nearly leaned in. “Are you asking if I forgo my own candles when alone?”
“I’m asking if you can read the Hebrew or need the phonetics?”
“I’ve got it memorized, does that help?”
“Very much so, since I didn’t find my paper with the prayers written on it.”
He grinned at her, smooth cheeks rising, and a part of her grew sad that they’d only tried this now.
She lit the match, and they said the three prayers together as she lit the shamash, then used the shamash to light the sole candle on the right. His tenor voice blended in with her higher one, taking this moment and adding a bit of something new and special to it. Three prayers with only one candle to light meant the shamash was safely back in its raised center position as the last words rang in the air.
“Happy Chanukah, Andie,” Leo said. His face held something in the glow of the candles, a warmth she wouldn’t expect from someone she only sorta knew. Yet it felt good, tempting her to bottle up this moment for later.
“Happy Chanukah.”
Her stomach chose that moment to grumble. Her hands sailed to the noisy fiend. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not rummaging through my freezer for sustenance now.”
Leo chuckled. “Then let’s eat.”
They settled in at her table, passing food back and forth until both their plates were piled high. Seasoned aromas wafted to Andie’s nose, creating an eager grumble deep in her empty stomach. The moment her plate landed before her she picked up her fork and dove in, too hungry to be polite.
“So what is this job that’s taking you all the way to Ohio?”
She had to quickly chew the lo mein in her mouth. “Lead teacher in a preschool that specializes in underprivileged kids.”
“You can’t do that here?”
She smiled at him, but it grew tight at the clueless expression on his face. This felt like any other conversation she’d had where the person knowingly, or unknowingly, put down her profession, or equated it to glorified babysitting. “The program I work at is being hit by budget cuts, many are. We’re closing down and all of my coworkers are looking for work. A few found positions, most of us have not, and I’d love to give something back to a community that truly needs it.”
He took a bite of chicken, talking as he chewed. “I get budget cuts and limited options, times are rough, but moving that far for a teaching position? I don’t get it.”
She stabbed at something on her plate, not even registering what. “You wouldn’t move if there were no job options in this area for you? If your father sells the business to someone else and the next best match isn’t local?”
“I’m getting the business. If I don’t, well, I’ll figure something out. But wouldn’t working for a Walmart or Amazon or something make more money? Then you wouldn’t have the burden of moving and could wait for something better to come along?”
She dropped her smile completely. The evening had started off great and now this. “So you’ll figure something out that doesn’t involve Walmart or Amazon? If you’re so comfortable, why are you living here with the rest of us low-income workers?”
“I …” Leo rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean … I guess with the right support systems it could work.”
Andie scoffed; she couldn’t help it. Support systems. Sure, the current setup of the economy meant she’d continue to struggle on her own. “I’ve got no one.” A notion she felt even more strongly—so much for company for Chanukah. “But there are kids struggling everywhere, and I have an opportunity to help. This school needs me.” One of the many things that had drawn her to this job.
“But what about the kids struggling here?”
She resisted rolling her eyes. “The ones in programs that have no teacher openings? Or that are being shoved into overcrowded classrooms due to budget cuts? Or not able to get a spot in the wait-listed programs? There’s nothing I can personally do to change that.”
Would Daddy Warbucks over there suggest she open her own center, right after thinking she’d be better off driving around in an Amazon truck? How out of touch with reality was this guy? Apparently, hot neighbor was the look at, don’t talk to, type. Shame. She’d heard all this before. The few extended family members that came to sit shiva after her father died were full of condescending statements about her job, and hints that now she should get a real one. As though caring for children and shaping their future held no value.
Leo looked up, alarmed. “Shit, I’m sorry. This isn’t going well.”
“Should young children not need preschool because they stay home with their mothers while the fathers work?”
“What? No, Andie, I’m not like that.”
Caution warned her to calm down, but anger fueled her on. She couldn’t talk back to so many who questioned her work, but she could to this man across her table. “Could have fooled me right now. I know people look down on teaching, especially when it comes to the younger kids. But not everyone comes from a two-parent, picket fence life. Some kids need the socialization, and not because their parents are bad parents. Some parents have work, some kids have a lot of needs that the parents struggle to meet. So maybe moving is going to take up all my savings and then some, but it will be worth it to do what I love.”
Leo had stopped eating. “Andie, I really am sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I uh …” He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly whatever he did mean he didn’t have words for.
Why was she getting into this with this oblivious man? So much for getting to know her neighbor better. He didn’t deserve to know that she’d been feeling a bit lost since her father died. She raised a hand. “Look. The candles are burning, the food is good and I’m much too hungry to send you home without finishing. Why don’t we eat in silence?”
He looked like he wanted to speak again, and she was tempted to raise her knife to warn him off, but figured that would only add another log to the uncomfortable fire at the table. Eventually he faced his food, as did she.
Five minutes later, he took the remnants of their dinner and left without another word.
“Good riddance.”
Only now Andie felt well and truly alone. She walked over to the remaining embers of her candles, and the yellow wax dried in a dripping pattern down the base.
“Always the yellow.”
No matter the box or the brand, for some cosmic reason, yellow never burned cleanly, always leaving a trail of wax behind.
She sighed and settled in on her couch, touching her cuff. “Happy Chanukah, Dad. Miss you, wish you were here.” One day, she’d have a family to light the candles with. Maybe she’d find that family in Ohio.
Leo closed the refrigerator door, after tossing the leftover Chinese food in there. Then, he rammed his forehead against the freezer door. The narrow, neutral-toned U-shaped kitchen spread out to his left, the same as Andie’s except in reverse, even if his had more than one antique salvage on the counters.
“Can you mess things up any harder if you tried?” he mumbled to himself. His “open mouth, insert foot” bad habit had reared its ugly head, timing, as always, impeccable. Now, his one shot with Andie was gone in a violent flash of smoke.
Maybe it was better that way, for her. His track record with women sucked to high heaven, the curse of being the uncharismatic one in the family.
He left the kitchen, heading for the dining room, where he’d set up the new menorah. Everything he touched seemed to turn to coal, and he didn’t even celebrate Christmas.
“Dentz, you are a putz. A no-good, messes everything up, putz.”
He didn’t mean to put down her career. He was just shocked, since most teachers he knew wouldn’t relocate for a job. Instead of thinking his words over, he let them out in the worst possible way. One of the many reasons for his painfully single status.
“I need a do-over.” One that involved duct tape over his mouth.
He studied the new menorah, his favorite type of new, since the item in front of him was in fact very old. The night would have gone differently if he had lit it and studied its charm, rather than how the glow of candles danced in Andie’s eyes.
“That’s it. I’m lighting them again.”
Not exactly protocol, but he didn’t care. He pulled out his candles, and his matches, and lit the candles a second time. Soon the dual flames flickered in his apartment and he could almost forget the night had turned sour.
Almost.
“And this pity party is officially over.”
He took a picture of his menorah, sent it to Millie. Five minutes later, he got an image of her smaller menorah next to his sister’s bigger one, both with candles burning.
Millie: Happy Chanukah! Is that the new menorah Mom brought you?
Leo: Happy Chanukah! And yes, it is.
Millie: It looks like it really is magic, not haunted. Bet you could make a wish and it would come true.
Leo: A wish? On a menorah?
Millie: Why not?
Leo: Because it’s a menorah. Go beat your father at dreidels for me.
Millie: Already on it!
Another picture loaded, of Millie’s large pile of gelt in front of a dreidel, with his brother-in-law’s much smaller pile across the way.
Leo: Good job!
Sure, he worked long hours to make up for his misdeeds, but he had Millie, and a drive to succeed. That would have to be enough.