Page 21 of Analysing Her Assets

“I did,” Sarita said, “but she is too conflicted.”

“She’s too delicate,” Paulina said harshly.

“Well, she did her part. She got him to attend Friday dinner,” Sarita said in defense of her daughter.

“True, true, good work. Very good work.” Paulina sounded as if she was congratulating the employee of the month.

Gideon escorted his grandmothers, one leaning on him from each side, to the back entrance of their Shikun Tzameret townhouse. Barak and Ra’am barked around them, all but climbing the trio in their haste to reach him. He crouched to pat the dogs, delaying meeting his father.

“Naomi, darling, don’t you dare! Show me where it says to heat the veal schnitzel in the microwave.” His father’s bass voice carried, answered by his mother’s gurgling laugh. He entered the kitchen, and Shemesh, his puppy, greeted him from his playpen. He scratched his ears and wished he could take him and go home. Now.

“Paulina, Sarita, hello. Gideon.”

Yehoshua kissed his mother, whom he called by her name because growing up she’d forbidden him to call her anything else. He kissed his mother-in-law’s cheek. He had almost reached out to hug Gideon, but stopped awkwardly. They met each other’s eyes for the first time in a year and a half. The light brown hair Gideon had inherited was now shot with a lot more gray, and there were more wrinkles around his vivid brown eyes. New worry lines had appeared around his mouth. His father had aged.

“Gideon, I’m so, so glad you are here!” His mother hugged him fiercely, beaming up at him. “Come help me serve the soup. I ordered your favorite dinner tonight, veal schnitzel and mashed potatoes.”

They ate in the small dining room around the mahogany table that could fit eight. Gideon removed the flower arrangement that adorned the snow-white map and placed it in his mother’s office. His father had regularly filled the house with bouquets on Fridays because Naomi loved fresh flowers.

His mother was a connoisseur, and she had the means to shop for the best. A chef had come and prepared everything in advance for tonight. Gideon helped serve the delicious broccoli and whipped Stilton soup.

“Too rich, too rich,” Savta Paulina muttered, clicking the silver spoon against the heirloom German porcelain, which his mother took out for Shabbat dinners.

“Oh, Yehoshua, I meant to tell you.” Naomi was smiling brightly at her husband. Gideon had always found his mother beautiful, but as an adult man, he could appreciate how other men regarded her. She was a head turner, with jet black hair, cut in a neat bob that framed a heart-shaped face with cornflower blue eyes, which he didn’t inherit. “Gideon is leading in that competition they have going on in his place. You know, the analysis thing.”

His father, despite taking his company public, had always maintained that the capital markets were Luftgesheft, ‘airy business’. Real men worked in real places producing real products.

“That’s great, son!” Yehoshua cried. Gideon stared at his father, realized his jaw was slack, and closed his mouth.

“It’s great!” his father repeated. “I’m proud of you. You excel at your chosen job. Good for you! Is there a bonus or a promotion for the guy who wins?”

“Yes, a bonus, a large one. But it wasn’t a guy, it was a girl, a woman, Tamar, who won it last year,” Gideon answered. He’d managed not to think of Tamar for a while. He smiled, recalling her surprise when he’d jogged by her place this morning and took Giddy from her.

“A woman, huh?” said Paulina. “Good for her.”

“Gideon likes her,” Naomi said under her breath to Savta Sarita, and Aunt Mira, and they all smiled at him. He kept his face blank. Luckily, his father had been away, bringing water. Now he walked around the table, filling glasses with graceful ease. Yehoshua Berdichevsky had reserves of effortless charm.

“I’m up for chief analyst,” Gideon announced. Everyone clapped, except Savta Paulina.

“Well done, son! Pretty soon you’ll be running the place, huh?” His father laid it on thick. Yet, there was a warm contentment, a place that was filled, that he didn’t even know he missed. His dad was proud of him.

“He doesn’t belong there. His place is in Berdiplast!” said Paulina, wiping away everyone’s smiles.

“Ugh, Paulina, when will you learn to shut up?” asked Savta Sarita.

“Gideon knows what he’s doing,” said Aunt Mira loyally.

Gideon pushed his chair back and stood. He was tired of Paulina’s constant nagging, the old guilt she managed to awaken. He’d believed he was past it.

“No Gideon, it’s the first time we’ve all been together in ages. Please don’t go!” His mother stood so abruptly, her chair cluttered to the floor. She looked pleadingly at her husband.

“I’m not having this discussion again,” Gideon said. His father was quiet, staring at his half-eaten schnitzel. The dutiful son, who had been hiding two grandchildren from Savta Paulina.

Naomi took a deep breath.

“I’m thinking of writing erotica!” she announced, her defiant gaze encompassing the small gathering. Savta Sarita had her hand over her mouth. His aunt gasped and then giggled. His father raised his eyes.

“What do you think?” she asked her husband with concern. “I’ll use a pen name. It won’t embarrass you.”

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