passing marked the end of an era nevertheless. Sarah shivered, wondering if this could be an omen of bigger losses to come.
Chapter 10
“S O I SAID TO the judge, ‘Your honor, what’s to object? The defendant knows he’s committing perjury, your honor knows it, learned counsel for the defense knows it, the jury knows it. Why should I verdreh my kop objecting? Let him talk and lose his own case for me.’ ” Uncle Jake reminded Sarah a lot of her own beloved Uncle Jem, except that his figure was trimmer, his accent different, and his anecdotes funnier. She was having a marvelous time. Her offering of fresh greens had made a big hit since the Rivkins had no space or inclination for a vegetable garden. Miriam had forthwith tossed up a tremendous salad, every leaf of which had got eaten along with a good many other things. Sarah felt as if she’d swallowed a sofa pillow. No matter, she’d work it off tomorrow doing some of the work that hadn’t got done today.
Mike had excused himself and gone off to Boston while they were dawdling over fruit and tea, but it wasn’t until he arrived home again that anybody realized how long they’d sat. Sarah pulled herself together and stood up.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been enjoying myself so much I had no idea how late it is. Max, do let’s leave so these poor people can go to bed. I’m sure Ira has to be at work early tomorrow.”
“Darn right he does.” Ira got up, too. He was a good-looking man with a ready smile and a small spare tire around his waist, which was appropriate to his profession and a natural consequence of Miriam’s superb cooking. He’d been talking in an easy, well-informed way about antique cars, the government’s Mideast policy—not that he really believed it had one—and a surprising range of other topics.
Miriam was as well-up on them all as he, and not always in agreement with her husband’s views. She looked a lot like Max and must be quite stunning when she was dressed up. Tonight she had on a simple denim skirt and a pullover she’d finished knitting for Mike just as he’d outgrown it and wasn’t about to let go to waste.
No Kelling would have faulted that sort of logic. Sarah felt quite at home with the Rivkins, and far better entertained than she would have been with many of her own clan.
“Enjoy yourself?” Max asked when they’d at last got themselves out to his car and headed back to the other end of town.
“Tremendously. I do like them all so much. They seem to like each other, too. Don’t they ever fight?”
“Wait till you meet my mother. If you’re tired, you could put your head on my shoulder,” he added helpfully.
Sarah thought that was a splendid idea, even though it induced Max to put his arm around her and she knew people weren’t supposed to drive one-handed. Somehow that didn’t bother her as much as it should have. She was in a mood of dreamy contentment, until they topped the drive to find the house ablaze with lights and two cars parked out in front.
“My God, what now?”
Sarah scrambled out of the low seat and ran into the house. Max at her heels telling her in frantic tones to keep calm. They were met by Aunt Appie in a dreadful state.
“Oh, Sarah, thank heaven you’re back! We were beside ourselves.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“You never showed up at the club!”
“Aunt Appie, you don’t mean to tell me you’ve worked yourself into a tizzy on my account? I never go to the club, if I can help it. I’m not even a member. You ought to know that.”
“But Fren Larrington distinctly told me he’d invited you as his guest.”
“Fren barged in here this morning, ordered me to get there under my own steam, then left without giving me a chance to tell him I had no transportation and didn’t want to go anyway because I had better things to do. Maybe you call that an invitation. I don’t.”
“Sarah dear, Fren took it for granted—”
“What right has Fren Larrington to take me for
Chapter 10
“S O I SAID TO the judge, ‘Your honor, what’s to object? The defendant knows he’s committing perjury, your honor knows it, learned counsel for the defense knows it, the jury knows it. Why should I verdreh my kop objecting? Let him talk and lose his own case for me.’ ” Uncle Jake reminded Sarah a lot of her own beloved Uncle Jem, except that his figure was trimmer, his accent different, and his anecdotes funnier. She was having a marvelous time. Her offering of fresh greens had made a big hit since the Rivkins had no space or inclination for a vegetable garden. Miriam had forthwith tossed up a tremendous salad, every leaf of which had got eaten along with a good many other things. Sarah felt as if she’d swallowed a sofa pillow. No matter, she’d work it off tomorrow doing some of the work that hadn’t got done today.
Mike had excused himself and gone off to Boston while they were dawdling over fruit and tea, but it wasn’t until he arrived home again that anybody realized how long they’d sat. Sarah pulled herself together and stood up.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been enjoying myself so much I had no idea how late it is. Max, do let’s leave so these poor people can go to bed. I’m sure Ira has to be at work early tomorrow.”
“Darn right he does.” Ira got up, too. He was a good-looking man with a ready smile and a small spare tire around his waist, which was appropriate to his profession and a natural consequence of Miriam’s superb cooking. He’d been talking in an easy, well-informed way about antique cars, the government’s Mideast policy—not that he really believed it had one—and a surprising range of other topics.
Miriam was as well-up on them all as he, and not always in agreement with her husband’s views. She looked a lot like Max and must be quite stunning when she was dressed up. Tonight she had on a simple denim skirt and a pullover she’d finished knitting for Mike just as he’d outgrown it and wasn’t about to let go to waste.
No Kelling would have faulted that sort of logic. Sarah felt quite at home with the Rivkins, and far better entertained than she would have been with many of her own clan.
“Enjoy yourself?” Max asked when they’d at last got themselves out to his car and headed back to the other end of town.
“Tremendously. I do like them all so much. They seem to like each other, too. Don’t they ever fight?”
“Wait till you meet my mother. If you’re tired, you could put your head on my shoulder,” he added helpfully.
Sarah thought that was a splendid idea, even though it induced Max to put his arm around her and she knew people weren’t supposed to drive one-handed. Somehow that didn’t bother her as much as it should have. She was in a mood of dreamy contentment, until they topped the drive to find the house ablaze with lights and two cars parked out in front.
“My God, what now?”
Sarah scrambled out of the low seat and ran into the house. Max at her heels telling her in frantic tones to keep calm. They were met by Aunt Appie in a dreadful state.
“Oh, Sarah, thank heaven you’re back! We were beside ourselves.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“You never showed up at the club!”
“Aunt Appie, you don’t mean to tell me you’ve worked yourself into a tizzy on my account? I never go to the club, if I can help it. I’m not even a member. You ought to know that.”
“But Fren Larrington distinctly told me he’d invited you as his guest.”
“Fren barged in here this morning, ordered me to get there under my own steam, then left without giving me a chance to tell him I had no transportation and didn’t want to go anyway because I had better things to do. Maybe you call that an invitation. I don’t.”
“Sarah dear, Fren took it for granted—”
“What right has Fren Larrington to take me for
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