Chapter 14 #2
With a sinking heart, Elsa looped her hand through his elbow. She wasn’t in the mood to meet a man he wanted to pawn her off on. She’d so much rather stay here and talk more with this new version of her father, the one who had just begun to open up.
“Five more minutes,” she wanted to say. An echo of her childhood plea when visiting her parents before her nurse ushered her off to bed. But in this house, punctuality was next to godliness and expectations ruled.
Even at twenty-six years old, Elsa still feared disappointing her father by asking for more of himself than he wanted to give.
Fixing a smile in place, she limped beside him, careful not to lean too much on his arm.
———
“Archer!” Elsa laughed in surprise to see her friend and colleague with her mother in the dining room. “I was expecting a balding widower. What a nice surprise.”
“That’s a bit of a low bar, but I’m glad you’re pleased.
” He was golden tonight in a beige poplin suit, white teeth dazzling, and blond hair gleaming under the influence of pomade.
“Even if I didn’t already know you, I couldn’t have turned down the invitation from so charming a lady as your mother. ”
Speaking of charm.
“This was your idea?” Elsa asked her.
Mother smoothed the waist of her dress. “Inspired by you, but yes. You mentioned going out with this young man, and I know his mother. I thought it high time we get to know him.”
“So you see, my dear,” her father added, “the tables have turned. Instead of you meeting a stranger, it is we who have the pleasure of acquainting ourselves with a young man already your friend.”
“How refreshing.” Ten pounds seemed to lift from her shoulders. She agreed to these dinner guests out of respect for her parents but had yet to take any joy from the scrutiny.
Whether Archer was playing the squire or acting on genuine impulse, he pulled out Elsa’s chair for her, and they sat. Father joined Mother on the opposite side, then said grace over the meal they were about to receive.
“I have another surprise for you, but I don’t think you’ll mind.” Mother signaled to the footmen, who served four small bowls of soup to each of the four diners.
Elsa barely held back from wrinkling her nose at what appeared to be a liquid diet of child-size portions. Not much of a feast for company.
“I asked you to help me with planning Lauren’s wedding, but you never quite gave me an answer.
No matter.” She waved a dismissive hand, her rings catching the light and casting rainbows.
“I realize you’re very busy at present. So I decided that we would taste-test food from the top caterers for our dinner tonight.
There’s more to come, so please save room. You have a lot to sample ahead of you.”
“That’s a genius use of time, Mother. But shouldn’t Joe be here?
The groom ought to have more say in the matter than us.
” Elsa hated to think they were leaving Joe out.
Up until last year, her parents had considered him beneath Lauren’s attention, let alone her affections.
He was from a hardworking family of Italian-German heritage and made his living as a detective for the New York Police Department.
But she thought he’d won them over prior to the engagement.
“Rest assured, we invited Joe.” Father dipped his spoon into a bowl of minestrone. “He planned to come but had to cancel due to a break in a case.”
“And I’m the lucky substitute. Can’t say I’m sorry about that.” Archer grinned.
Elsa tasted a matzo ball soup. Delicious. “Did you offer to postpone the sampling so he could come?”
“Of course.” Mother dabbed a napkin to the corners of her mouth.
“But he insisted we carry on with our plans, as he couldn’t guarantee he’d be able to come later, either.
He said he trusts our taste, and we’re to bring him a report with our thoughts later.
We even offered that his parents come, but they deferred to our judgment, as well.
Besides, they have their boarders to feed every night. ”
“I hear the Caravellos are excellent cooks. Are there any samples here from them?” Elsa asked.
“Patience, dear. Wait for dessert.”
“Please tell me that means we get tiramisu for the wedding cake!”
Mother just smiled. “You’ll be the judge.”
Archer waggled his eyebrows at Elsa. “I can’t wait.”
Neither could she. It made sense that the Caravellos would offer a dessert that could be made ahead of time, but not the main courses.
Greta and Sal cooked for up to twelve people at their boardinghouse off Union Square, but they weren’t equipped to cater to a guest list that would reach into the hundreds.
Relieved that the Caravellos were being included as much as possible, Elsa relaxed and enjoyed the soup course. At the end of it, Father pulled out paper and a pen and passed them to Elsa to take notes of everyone’s impressions.
Next came a variety of salads and vegetables, then fruit dishes. During the entrée samples, Father’s questioning of Archer ventured beyond the small talk they’d enjoyed so far.
“Now, Archer, I know you work with Elsa at the museum as a preparator. What kind of education trained you for that kind of work?”
Archer swallowed a bite of filet mignon. “I have a degree in art history with a certification in studio art.”
Father stopped chewing for a moment. “Art history and studio art.” He looked as though he’d tasted something sour.
Elsa felt a little defensive on Archer’s behalf. “You should see the dioramas he paints, Father. They are such realistic landscapes for the animals that it’s as much a science as it is art.”
“Hey, next time you visit, I’ll show you some of my finest work.” Archer speared a lump of crabmeat and dipped it into a dish of melted butter. He closed his eyes in apparent bliss over what must be the most expensive option on the table. “My money’s on this one for the main course.”
A chuckle escaped Father. “You mean my money. But speaking of yours—”
“Julian, let’s not be vulgar.” Mother shot him a look, then apologized to Archer. “He works with money all day long on Wall Street, you understand, and forgets that it isn’t a suitable topic for polite company.”
Archer shrugged. “If it makes you feel any better, Mr. Reisner, I don’t consider myself polite company. Go ahead.”
Oh my. Elsa inwardly cringed. She could almost hear the clatter Archer made as he fell from the pedestal her parents likely placed him upon.
“Very good.” Father leaned back in his chair, peering down his nose. “Do you intend to work at the museum long-term? And if not, what other employment does your education and experience qualify you for?”
“Father.” Elsa didn’t know what else to say. It wasn’t that she hoped Archer would impress her parents, but neither did she want her friend humiliated by this line of questioning.
“It’s okay. My own father has asked me the same thing, many times.”
“So you’ve had time to practice your answer.” Father smiled. “Do continue.”
Archer laughed. “Yeah, you’d think. Well, the way I see it, I’m still young.
I have lots of options. I like working at the museum and find it fulfilling.
There are avenues of advancement there, so I may be looking at promotions in the future, which would come with an increase in salary.
That’s what you’re getting at, isn’t it, Mr. Reisner? ”
“In part, yes.”
“Naturally. But if I get tired of the museum or passed over for a position I’ve earned, I have no problem looking elsewhere. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. But for now, I’m content where I am.”
“You have investments, then?”
“Pardon me?”
Father sipped his coffee. “I know roughly what you make at the museum. You drive a Rolls-Royce, and the suit you’re wearing costs at least four months of that pay. So I assume you’ve invested wisely to be able to afford the lifestyle that makes you so content.”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Exactly. I invest wisely, and here I am. Content.”
“Good for you, young man.”
“Well, now that that’s settled, I think we’re ready for dessert,” Elsa jumped in, as eager for tiramisu as she was for this interview to end.
The Caravellos’ dessert was as divine as she had remembered from the engagement party last spring, and the unanimous winner from among the other options. Elsa tidied her notes and passed them to Mother, who would share them with Mrs. Caravello.
“All set to go, then?” Archer asked, rising from the table. “Coney Island awaits. Percy and Ivy took the subway there already. We’ll take the Rolls. I’ll get it.”
After a round of handshakes with Mother and Father, he left.
“Interesting boy,” Mother said. “You seem comfortable with him.”
“We’re only friends.” Elsa pulled a silk scarf from her purse. “It was nice of you to invite him tonight, but don’t think that just because we’re going out again means we’re some kind of item.”
Mother lifted one eyebrow. “Does he know that?”
“I’m sure he does. I’m not his type.” Preparing to ride in his convertible, she tied the scarf over her hair.
Father’s expression grew serious. “Then what does he want? Why is he spending so much time with you when there are other young women he could pursue?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask him while you had the chance.” Elsa laughed, but the questions stung.