Chapter Six
The Storm
Just over two weeks before the wedding of Judith Nachman and Asher Mendel
Naomi Nachman was in the middle of a conversation about the best ideas for bachelorette parties when her phone buzzed.
Thankfully, she was with her sister in Crystal City, trying out the new Thai place and talking about Liv’s new job.
Liv, of all people, would understand the need to read random text messages.
Naomi thumbed past the phone’s security screen and went to her texts. The newest one was from Samuel Levine, not Jason, who she’d not so secretly been hoping to hear from.
To: Naomi Nachman
From: Samuel Levine, sofer
We’re family. Don’t worry about it.
Naomi was lucky she’d honed her instincts after years of working in events and planning; otherwise, she would have screamed and dropped her phone on the table. Instead, she held her breath and the panic, and channeled both into the reply.
To: Samuel Levine, sofer
From: Naomi Nachman
WHAT?
If it had been anybody else, Naomi would have had to answer questions about how intently she was staring at her phone. But this was Livvy, whose new job required a similar degree of attentiveness even when she wasn’t technically on the job.
But when the buzzer went off again, she looked down.
To: Naomi Nachman
From: Samuel Levine, sofer
I got the email. Don’t worry about it. We’re family.
Email.
What email?
Instead of thinking through the situation, Naomi went right to her email. If Samuel had gotten it, she must have been given some kind of similar notice? Maybe?
Like who it was from and what it was about?
But when she checked her email and read the newest message, the panic that she’d been holding back forced its way to the surface.
To: Important people
From: Ida Nemiroff
Re: Goodbye
To whom it may concern,
Please consider this email my announcement of my immediate retirement and end of business. I’ve wound up everything, paid all the fees and Ida’s Best Parties is no more. I have left no forwarding address and will send no further emails.
For those who I have contracted with in any form, your contracts are now void.
Thank you for your patronage through all of these years.
Goodbye,
Ida C Nemiroff
And with one email, her mentor/boss had closed her business and left town without prior notice. Now the panic began to seep out of her pores. She reached up, fingers heading toward her hair before she realized she was doing it.
“I recognize that look.”
Liv was many things; observant was one of them. All the same, Naomi nodded. “I should have listened to you,” she said.
Liv raised an eyebrow. “What brilliant piece of advice should you have taken?”
Naomi sighed, took a sip of her Thai iced tea before answering. “I should have built a logo and separate contracts for my business, just for Judith’s wedding. Kept it separate from my work with Ida.”
Again, Liv was no fool. And was equipped with older-sister radar. “What happened? Why is it suddenly relevant?”
Naomi took a deep breath and deciding that there would be no deterring her sister, shoved the words out of her mouth. “Ida closed up shop and left town, voiding all the contracts.”
Just as Naomi was about to continue the conversation, her phone buzzed again.
This time, the notifications screamed that she’d gotten three separate emails, informing her that three of the service providers she’d contracted with—Ida’s pet event designer, the cake maker Ida had insisted on, as well as the caterer Ida had insisted upon when the first one didn’t work out—were unable to fit the wedding into their schedules.
“And all of this is happening weeks before Judith’s wedding. ”
Liv stood, crossed the room, and Naomi couldn’t resist melting into the embrace. She said, “What are you going to do? What do you need me to do?”
“What am I going to do?” Naomi smiled at her big-hearted sister, who was otherwise occupied with her new job and new boyfriend. “Roll up my sleeves and make sure Judith’s wedding doesn’t collapse less than three weeks before the ceremony, without her having any idea as to what’s going on.”
“And I’m supposed to just let you?”
Naomi nodded. “You focus on bachelorette stuff. That’s your responsibility. Because if you let that slide to help me, Judith would know something’s wrong.”
“I understand your reasoning,” Liv replied, “and though I don’t like it, if you want to keep Hurricane Judith from losing her mind, or getting involved, this is the best way.”
“Thank you,” Naomi said. “I appreciate your understanding. But? Because I know there is a but coming at the end of that sentence.”
“There is,” Liv replied when she’d finished taking a sip of her water. “Promise me,” she said, “if you need me…”
“I know,” Naomi said. “I know where to find you.”
“But it isn’t just me,” Liv said. “You have people you can call. And if it isn’t me, and you’re stressed and need help, promise me you’ll call someone.”
That was the easiest promise Naomi could make to her sister; of course, telling her sister the reason why wasn’t acceptable. Instead, she agreed, and when she’d made it back to Queens, back to her apartment, she began to try and dig herself out of the tremendous hole she was in.
Unfortunately, along with being alone came the intense desire to contact Jason in some way—video chat, text, message through any and all of their mutual social media chats. All of those were usually up for grabs.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t contacted her in the last few days, and the last thing she wanted to do was bother him.
*
When Jason got off the red-eye from Los Angeles, he had two plans. One: sleep and then tell Naomi he’d gotten back, and two: make plans to see her as soon as he could string more than two thoughts together.
The family could wait. The business and the choices he’d have to make would wait.
He almost had the rideshare he’d splurged on take him back to her apartment, but it was early, and he was tired and the last thing he wanted to do was see her when he couldn’t make coherent sentences or even words.
Especially when he would have to explain that he’d not communicated with her over the last few days of what he was beginning to call his ‘stage.’ It sounded much better than a series of paid internships, when from what he’d learned, it was the same thing.
But more importantly, it was busy. Mind-numbingly, brain-achingly busy until he had to leave.
And all he did on the flight was sleep.
Which wasn’t enough.
But when the car pulled up at an unfamiliar address, he blinked.
“Sir? You wanted to stop at an address in Queens?”
He blinked, and texted her. Can I come up?
He sat there, holding his phone. Hoping she was awake. Hoping she was home.
Yes.
A simple little text, and all of a sudden, his day was made.