Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
The older brother gave his sibling a nudge.
“Well, you and Miss Berab both are the prettiest in the community,” the younger corrected himself.
Sofia rolled her eyes.
“What shall we be?” Michael asked, gazing up at him.
Miss Teres gave him a quizzical glance.
“My late wife and I used to dress them up as well,” Roger explained.
It had been a touch stressful, but enjoyable.
And it would likely be more enjoyable this year, now that he knew them better.
Actually, he was looking forward to it. Even more, he was looking forward to taking them to hear the megillah read beforehand.
Well, he could have Michael with him. Fannie would sit with Nina and Sofia above them. Without her mother.
Not that Lucy or any of them had gone to services in the past. They’d usually been busy preparing for the balls instead and didn’t have time. There were a few times he’d managed to go with David, but Lucy was always otherwise occupied.
“I don’t know, I’m sure there are other characters in the story who could be added,” Miss Teres said with a wave of her hand, interrupting his thoughts. “A fairy or two and a—”
A bundle of fur flew at her chest. “What is that?” she shrieked.
Roger gasped.
Zut, zut, zut.
That darn cat.
“Fannie, you know you aren’t supposed to bring him.” He rounded the table, reached out, and grabbed the creature by its backside.
“Careful—” The snicking sound of ripping silk rang through the air. Horror marred Miss Teres’s beautiful face as the cat’s claws shredded the front of her gown.
The table grew silent. Or almost.
“What’s happening?” the older Teres son whispered to the younger one.
“Lee’s dress got ripped,” his sibling explained.
“How?” the first asked.
“Cat,” the other returned.
His brother grimaced. “I hope they’re decent enough to fix matters. Or Lee’s going to be upset,” he added, his tone ominous.
Time to correct matters. Posthaste.
“I—” Roger moved toward Miss Teres, but she shrank away, staring at his hand. What—he glanced at the appendage. Oh, right, he was still holding the cat. He placed the little beast in Fannie’s outstretched arms.
“He was going to be lonely without me,” his daughter said with a pout returning to her seat.
“We shall discuss this later,” he told Fannie. He turned back to his hopefully still soon-to-be-betrothed. “I do apologize, Miss Teres.”
“It’s quite all right.” She pulled her arms around herself.
“I’m just not particularly…” Miss Teres’s swallow was visible.
“I just…” She glanced down at her gown. “I’m afraid I’m no longer properly attired.
” Her nostrils flared, and she smoothed her skirts again and again, as if she was calming herself.
“We shall most certainly replace it,” Roger declared quickly. “We’re terribly sorry, aren’t we, Fannie?”
“Yes, very,” his daughter said. “And so is Rose,” she said, sticking the creature right in Miss Teres’s face. The girl squawked, jumping back, the stringy fabric of her ruined bodice bouncing.
“Fannie,” Roger admonished. Merde. This was getting out of hand. “Miss Teres, I—”
“Little beast,” Miss Teres screamed, her voice piercing the air. Anger marred her features as she turned toward Fannie. “Keep that creature away from me,” she snapped, loud enough that his daughter winced. If only for a moment. Then a familiar pugnacious look came into her eye.
Fuck.
“I’m sure she will in the future,” Roger reassured Miss Teres, stepping between the two.
Calmerai, calmeras, calmera, calmerons…
“I should hope so.” Miss Teres glared at the cat. “I presume it sleeps in the barn?” she asked with a derisive sniff.
“Rose sleeps with me,” Fannie retorted, squeezing the feline, who hissed in Miss Teres’s direction.
Roger glanced at his brother for help, but David was staring at the tableau, his face unreadable. No one else at the table even moved.
Useless. Absolutely useless.
“We shall see about that,” Miss Teres snapped.
“What did you say?” his daughter demanded, marching toward the woman, rage in her eyes.
“Fannie—” Roger grabbed the cat out of her hands so he could keep the thing secure for once.
“I said that there might be some changes occurring shortly, and your father and I shall discuss them later,” Miss Teres told his daughter.
Roger gritted his teeth. Not that she was wrong, per se. He just would not have used those words, especially not in the rather singsong tone she deployed, which had to grate on his daughter. It certainly was not his favorite.
“Without me?” Fannie’s voice somehow rose an entire octave.
“Yes. Naturally.” Miss Teres blew out a small stream of air. “You’re a child, and we’re adults, after all.”
“It’s my house and my cat,” his daughter snapped.
“It’s your father’s house and shall be mine as well in a couple of weeks,” Miss Teres countered. “Your father and I shall have final say over its occupants.”
“Rose is part of the family,” Fannie argued.
“Rose is an animal,” Miss Teres scoffed. “You’ll outgrow such things quickly.” She gave his daughter a small sniff. “You’re a young lady and need to comport yourself like one.”
“Like you?” Fannie retorted, a precious sarcasm in her tone.
Miss Teres turned toward him this time. “I think more than a governess is necessary.”
“Beg pardon?” Roger asked, squinting at her.
“There’s a school in the Scottish countryside to which gentile families of means and prominence send daughters who need extra assistance conducting themselves properly.
While they wouldn’t accept just anyone from our community, I’m sure they’ll take your daughter and make sure she’s prepared to conduct herself when she returns.
” She clucked her tongue. “Yes, I can see I’m joining this household just in time. ”
Like hell.
The words rocked through Roger’s conscience, both at the prospect of sending Fannie away and of this woman joining his household.
Miserable. They would all be miserable. Anyone could see that. Especially now that he’d experienced something different. Something he wanted to hold on to more than anything.
This time he turned to Miss Teres’s father. “I’m sorry, Judah, but this is not going to work.”
Because it wouldn’t. Not in a hundred and twenty years.
“Now see here, Berab—” Teres threw down his napkin as he rose to his feet, both his sons following suit, the blind one assisting the other with his crutch.
“Your daughter is a lovely girl, but we’re not suited,” he explained to the man.
There was a gasp.
Maybe more than one.
“What do you mean?” Miss Teres’s voice was now almost as high-pitched as Fannie’s. “I’m perfect for you,” she told him, stamping her foot on the ground as if she were Michael’s age. “No one else could be a better wife to a delegate with your connections. We would glitter together.”
“We probably would,” he admitted. More than probably. And yet his heart wasn’t in it. And more, he didn’t want it to be. Not anymore. He’d changed too much.
“But that’s not me.” The bone-deep truth in the words filling his consciousness. “Or at least that’s not the me I’d like to be,” he explained. “Not for my children and not for myself.”
His sister-in-law rose and came to his side. “But we do thank you for joining us this evening and—”
“We will have a discussion in the morning, Berab. A lengthy one,” Teres said, wagging a finger at David before marching out with his family.
For a moment they all sat in stunned silence, the weight of what he’d done falling upon him. He was not going to remarry. He was not going to be a delegate. But he did not care. Not even a little bit.
“They left without saying Birkat,” Michael piped up.
“They were a touch perturbed,” Roger told his son as he retook his seat. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t need to say it now.” He turned toward his nephew. “Should Cousin Jacob lead?” he asked, his smile, for the first time that evening, real.