Chapter 9
Chapter nine
In a little under three hours, Nosh Hashanah would begin.
Somehow, Naomi had managed to prepare her signature Nosh Hashanah apple chutney challah, assemble an apple and honey cheese board, get the decorations out of storage, and clean her apartment enough to show her friends she cared.
With the remaining time, she only needed to bake two dozen bumblebee cookies, set the table, and set up the holiday decor.
Luckily, Abby, Riley, Becca—if she felt like it—and Will were on their way to help.
She wanted to be excited about Will coming; she was excited.
But under the excitement, anxiety bubbled up like a simmering cauldron.
This may be the farm boy in me, but I’d run so fast if I ever met anyone like that.
She couldn't blame him for feeling that way, but it didn’t take the sting of his words away.
Creating problems for yourself and then forcing someone to be a part of those problems was selfish.
It was exactly the reason she hadn’t told him about Simon yet.
They were still getting to know each other and trying to decide if this was real, so she didn’t need to rope him into something he might not even want to be roped into in the first place.
When she had invited him to Nosh Hashanah, she had thought, maybe, if he spent time with Riley and Abby and got their official stamp of approval, then she would tell him.
And when they said their first ‘I love yous’ she’d thought for sure the time had come.
But after their conversation, she’d begun to wonder if she should tell him at all.
Afterall, it sounded like he didn’t want to know. And if Will loved her as she was now, why did it matter who she was then anyway?
“Judging by the look on your face, you also saw Taylor Swift’s new haircut.
” Riley’s voice brought her back from her thoughts.
They were standing in the doorway of her apartment, holding two grocery bags that appeared to be filled with a variety of liquor.
“We need to enact martial law until it’s fixed. ”
She smiled, in spite of herself. “I missed it!”
“It’s absolutely tragic. All her people should be fired. All of them,” they said, stepping towards her. “But if it’s not a Swiftie problem, what else could constitute a look like that? Is it a boy problem?”
When she didn’t answer right away, Riley gasped. “What did he do? Things were going so well!”
“They’re going well!” she assured him. They were.
This small problem, her problem, wasn’t something they—and by extension, Abby, because it would inevitably get back to her—needed to worry about.
She decided to tell the truth. Kind of. “He … doesn’t like Real Housewives.
He said it’s women manufacturing drama.”
Riley’s gasp increased in sound and duration. “Blasphemy!” they said, emphasizing each syllable. “I knew he couldn’t be as perfect as he seemed, but who could have guessed it would be this.”
“I know,” she said, content that her semi-truth had done the trick. “I hope you’ll be able to forgive him.” She took the bags from Riley and set them down next to her cabinet turned makeshift bar.
They gave a dramatic sniffle and then placed a hand over their heart.
“I’ll never look at him the same, but I suppose I can move past it.
” Riley lowered their hand and looked at her, a solemn expression settling across their face.
“You know, I've always thought that reality TV is a mirror to our own lives.
We may not be throwing drinks at each other—well, Abby is apparently—but in our own way, we all have our own drama, don't we? Hopefully, Will knows that.”
Naomi glanced up at Riley, curious if there was anything more behind that. Could they have picked up on what was really going on?
“Look who I found!”
She glanced up to see Abby walking in, followed by Will pulling a rollaboard suitcase behind him.
Will nodded. “It’s true, she did. I didn’t recognize her without her big hat.
” He looked at Abby, a smirk pulling the corner of his lip.
Naomi had given him permission to tease her friends about their date crashing, but she hadn’t expected him to start the moment he arrived.
Her face must have registered her nonplussed expression because he quickly added, “Too soon?”
“Never,” Riley said. “Good-natured ribs are our social currency.”
Abby let out a hearty laugh. “They’re right.”
“Now that we’re all on the same page about that, can I make some comments about your shirt?
” Riley said, dubiously eyeing Will’s Rosh Hashanah-themed shirt that said Shofar So Good above a drawing of a shofar, a curved ram’s horn traditionally blown during the Jewish High Holidays, that he’d snagged at Target on the way over.
Will laughed. “You sound like Fre—” He stopped so fast, it almost sounded like he was choking. He swallowed and then turned to Naomi, lifting up his suitcase. “Where would you like me to leave this?”
“Hello, my darlings!” a melodic voice called out.
Everyone turned. “My lord, there’s a little nip in the air tonight!
” Becca appeared, breathlessly, tugging off her coat and revealing a sleeveless, black and red corset dress.
Flinging her coat on top of the coffee table, she glanced behind her and waved as if inviting someone to come in. Which was exactly what she was doing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Abby said under her breath as a statuesque man came into view. He pulled off his woolen cap and dark luminous hair fell across his shoulders.
Naomi had done her best to prepare Will for life with her friends, but she had thought there would be more of an easing-in process.
“Who did you bring to our party?” Abby asked.
“And what are you wearing?” Naomi added.
Becca dropped her arms at her side. “Well, Shana Tova to you, too.” She rested a hand on her hip and adopted an air of annoyance.
When no one responded, she gave a slight huff and continued, “This is the latest from Paris, and this is Marius. We met at the gym. He was my yoga instructor—I know what you’re going to say: Becca, that’s so cliché. ”
“Actually, that’s not at all what I was going to say,” Abby muttered.
Will stepped into view and greeted Becca’s guest.
“I’m Will,” he said with an outstretched hand.
Marius shook his hand but did not respond.
“He’s taken a vow of silence, dear,” Becca said out. Looking back at her sister, she explained. “It’s part of his spiritual quest. Isn’t it great? Don’t look so glum, Abby. I really think you’ll like him. You know, once he’s talking again. And in the meantime, enjoy the view.”
Riley raised their hand. “I know I will.”
“I need a drink,” Abby said.
“That reminds me! Marius!” Becca spun around and scampered back to Marius, slipping her hand through his defined arm. “Did we leave the wine in the car? Let’s get it.”
Marius nodded and, placing his hand on the small of her back, he led her out of the apartment.
As the door shut, Abby exhaled noisily. “He can drink and sleep with a married woman, but he can’t talk.”
Riley smoothed their sideburns with their fingers and considered her question. “Who are we to judge what the spirits require?”
“I think the spirits are requiring all of us to get back to work,” Naomi said.
The next few hours flew by as they hurried to finish preparations. As the sunlight faded, friends began to trickle in and soon her apartment was humming with happy conversation that was sure to draw a complaint from Mrs. Pachenkis before the night was over. Everything was going perfectly.
“This is a disaster!”
Naomi was in the kitchen loading more cookies onto a platter when she heard Riley shout from her living room. Moments later, Abby walked into the kitchen.
“Do we have any ice left?” Abby asked, walking to the refrigerator and opening the freezer.
“If there’s nothing in there, then we’re out,” Naomi said. “Is that the disaster?”
Abby shuffled things around in her freezer. “Riley has some pomegranate cocktail they wanted to unveil, but it seems it’s ‘meaningless’ without ice.” She closed the freezer. “I guess I’m walking to the store to get more ice lest we are forced to consume meaningless drinks.”
Naomi smiled and started down the hall, holding the platter of cookies on her shoulder, hearkening back to her days as a server.
“Naomi—” Riley was at her side.
“Abby is getting ice right now,” she assured them, setting the dish on one of the folding tables.
“Oh, thank god. I cannot serve the Chosen People room temperature vodka and Prosecco in one drink. You all have suffered enough.”
“That’s very,” she put a cookie in her mouth to muffle her sarcasm, “considerate of you, Riley.”
Her back pocket buzzed. She pulled out her phone, and immediately her mouth went dry.
UNKNOWN
It could have been a wrong number; it could have been spam. But she knew. It was him. The honey-laden cookie in her mouth suddenly tasted like broken glass, and she forced herself to swallow the shards.
Clutching her phone in her hand, she made her way to her room and closed the door.
She didn’t want to look but she knew she had to.
She wouldn’t be able to mingle with her friends and pretend like she wasn’t wondering what the text message said the whole time.
After all, there was still a chance it was only spam.
It was better to bite the bullet and find out.
She sat down on her bed.
UNKNOWN: Happy Nosh Hashanah Kiwi
A tight exhale squeezed out of her throat. Simon had been there for the start of Nosh Hashanah. He knew exactly what she would be doing at this moment because for many years, he was doing it with her.
Three dots appeared, and then another message rolled onto the screen.
UNKNOWN: I need to talk to you. Only a second, I promise.
Talk? He wanted to talk right now? Her stomach churned. Another buzz.
UNKNOWN: I’m downstairs. I’ll wait.
The blood froze in her veins.
Downstairs.