Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Matzo Belle swept onto the stage in a gown made of blue sequins and gold tulle that shimmered like the flames of a menorah come to life. She had a voice like Streisand and the comic timing of Mel Brooks. Within minutes, the crowd was roaring.
“You know,” Matzo Belle cooed into the microphone.
“I make no secret of the fact I have a freaky hobby, but I do try to keep my worlds separate. Not everyone understands. In fact, Jay Katz, Mr. Matzo Baller himself, has asked me to perform every year since we met, and I’ve always said no.
A gal has to have boundaries.” She struck a coquettish pose. “Am I right, ladies?”
She waited for the enthusiastic shouts of agreement to die down.
“But this year, I couldn’t resist. I had to embrace the opportunity to finally come out of the closet and admit my double life to my People.
To stand before you with my head held high.
To claim my alter ego and proudly share my true identity.
I am—” she snapped her fingers and pointed at the band.
A drum roll carried the anticipation higher as Matzo Belle struck pose after pose, alluring, playful, drop-dead gorgeous.
“—an accountant,” she finished in her male register, a melodious tenor.
“And I’m not ashamed to crunch numbers and wear boring suits.
You can put me in a cubicle, but you cannot contain my multitudes! ”
The crowd broke into thunderous applause.
Libby’s jaw dropped. Seriously? Was it sacrilegious to compare Matzo Belle to a burning bush? Like, hello. She really hoped Micah was in the audience right now—and paying attention.
Belle continued, “During the day, I stick to the rules, obeying every tax law and code. But by night, I am Matzo Belle, and I do what I want. Although tonight, I’m taking requests.
To steal the rabbi’s joke, feel free to write them on the back of a hundred-dollar bill and pass them on up here.
” She did an elaborate shimmy and turn. When she faced the crowd again, she had a tzedakah box in each hand, completing the move with change rattling loudly.
“Just kidding, all denominations accepted. I’m easy that way.
” She winked and got more cheers. “Thank you for coming out to celebrate tonight. I feel no shame for my boring day job, but many out there are just discovering who they are. Let’s make it safe for them, shall we?
” She launched into an over-the-top, side-splitting version of “Big Spender” from the musical Sweet Charity.
Bills crowd-surfed to the stage. Matzo Belle collected them, examining both sides before jamming them in the tzedakah box she’d tucked into her cleavage.
When the song was over, she put the box aside and said, “Thanks for the help hammering out the rest of my set. You’re a great—and generous—crowd.
” She lifted her chin toward the band. “First up: Challah-back Girl,” she tweaked the pronunciation to sound Jewish, and her lyrical switch-ups had the crowd in stitches, especially when she sang, “This my ship. This my ship,” and pointed at Jay.
Libby laughed so hard, she nearly choked on her drink. Jay was red-faced and snorting beside her. “Great job bringing her on board,” she said, when she could talk.
“That was all Jonah,” Jay pointed at their accountant friend, who was sitting on her other side.
Talia was next to Jay, pink-cheeked and grinning, clutching Asher’s knee.
Across the table, Rebecca smiled, looking far more relaxed than she had at the beginning of the cruise. Nora sat on Beck’s lap, his arms clasped protectively around her waist.
The crowd roared, and she looked up to see Avi strutting toward the stage. Leah followed, her phone held high, snapping pictures.
Her heart clenched. Usually, Sylvie would be the one taking candid shots of their rocker pal. Things were changing so fast.
At the end of the show, she caught Jay’s attention and circled her hand, encompassing the Ballers at the table. “Next year—”
“In Israel?” he broke in.
She rolled her eyes. “Next year in Manhattan, we are getting everyone on board. Even Eli.” She held up her pinkie to him. “I don’t care what we have to do to make it happen.”
Jay locked his pinkie with hers. “Deal.”
He checked his watch, “Almost midnight. Should we head out on deck for a toast before the drone show?”
“A drone what?” Rebecca asked. “That’s not on the spreadsheet.”
“I didn’t let Reggie handle every detail,” Jay said with a smug grin. “Eli wanted to try out some new tech. Who am I to say no to a free drone show?”
They spilled out onto the deck, the December air crisp and refreshing after the high-energy chaos of the show.
Jay led their group over to a bar cart set up under the menorah, where champagne was icing and glasses were laid out.
He pulled something that looked like a wireless speaker out from under the bar cart and set it near the glasses.
Libby’s radar pinged. Jay had actually planned this toast? That was odd. Something was definitely up. “What’s going on?” she asked him.
“You’ll see.” Jay gave her a wide-eyed smile that was far too innocent and fiddled with his phone.
A few beats later, the first notes of an iconic holiday song—albeit not their holiday—rang out. It took her a second to realize it wasn’t the original. Like Matzo Belle’s standards, the lyrics had been changed.
Asher dropped to one knee next to Talia.
“Oh,” Libby whispered, her throat tightening.
Talia gasped, both hands flying to her mouth.
Asher gazed up at her and said, “All I want for Hanukkah…is you. Will you marry me, Talia?”
“Yes.” Talia’s bright smile put the blazing menorah to shame.
Around them, the group erupted in cheers, and the world went soft around the edges. The menorah lights shimmered in the reflection of the water and the city skyline glittered in the distance, creating sparks in her stinging eyes. Libby blinked fast to clear her vision.
Asher stood, and they embraced. Then the whole gang piled on for a group hug. Libby had Talia’s hair in her mouth and someone was crushing her foot beneath their shoe, but she’d never been happier.
When they finally untangled themselves, Asher and Talia remained locked together, dancing in their world for two.
They fit so perfectly that it made her chest ache.
They were opposites in so many ways. Talia was an early bird, and Asher owned a bar that was open late—but at the end of the day, they always found their way back to each other.
Somehow, they had built a life together that let both of them shine.
Libby admired the hell out of that.
And envied it.
Every man she’d ever dated had asked her to make herself smaller, to take fewer jobs, to travel less, to be around more. They said they admired her ambition, but what they really wanted was for her to support theirs.
Until Micah.
He’d painted her—celebrated her—just as she was.
He’d offered up his sketches to inspire her.
During the cookie event, he’d followed her lead, playing the role she’d assigned him. There hadn’t been a single moment when she felt like she was too much for him. On the contrary, she’d felt supported by his presence, like they were on the same page, working toward the same goal.
It really was a shame he hid his painting. A Jewish artist? A rabbi? A man who understood the compulsion to create beautiful things, celebrated the same holidays she did, and was also fine as hell? That combo might tempt her to give a committed relationship another try.
But even Micah’s giant red flag of a secret wasn’t going to keep her from taking him home tonight.
A champagne cork popped, and a full glass landed in her hand.
She felt a familiar prickle of heat across her skin and turned, unsurprised to find Micah standing a few feet behind her, watching her with desire glowing in his gaze. Her pulse fizzed.
He walked toward her. When he reached her side, she said, “Slight change in plans. We had a surprise engagement.” She gestured at the happy couple, still swaying, kissing without an ounce of self-consciousness.
“Mazel tov,” he said, smiling. “Do you need more time alone with your friends? I can catch you later.” He stepped back.
“No—stay.” She grabbed a glass of champagne from the cart and handed it to him.
Their fingers brushed, and a sizzle went through her. They sipped their wine, standing close together. The bubbles tickled her nose, but she barely tasted it.
Nora and Beck were going to have a baby.
Asher and Talia were getting married. She looked at Jay and Rebecca, their heads together, looking at a tablet and murmuring to each other, probably finishing each other’s thoughts.
Almost everyone had found a partner. For the first time, she felt like she was standing on the outside of her circle of friends, looking in.
Usually, she wore her single status as a badge of pride, but for a few seconds, she wondered what it would be like to find someone who truly saw her—and loved her.
She searched for Jonah, the other singleton in their crew, and spotted him hovering next to action star Kara Koff, looking at her like she’d hung the moon over the boat tonight. Poor Jonah. That crush was going nowhere.
Micah’s arm brushed hers as he turned toward the skyline. The breeze caught the curl at his temple, and she had the sudden, dizzying urge to smooth it back.
What would it be like—really like—to date him?
Not the version she’d met in Palm Beach, the muse-driven genius. Not the confident rabbi who spoke with faith and conviction, either. But both of them.
Together.
She imagined Sunday mornings spent in bed, his sketchbook open beside her while she designed new cakes on her tablet. Evenings filled with paint-stained fingers—and sheets.