Page 58 of Analysing Her Assets

“I... it wasn’t me who read them. I asked a female colleague from work to read it.”

“Tamar?” his mother guessed shrewdly.

“She owed me a favor. I’m not sure she’ll agree to read more.”

Nonetheless, he took the bag from his mother. Tamar might agree, she seemed to like it.

“I’m dying to meet her. You know, I never liked you with Dorit. She was, I don’t know, so predictable.”

Funny how he had always imagined he would end up with someone like Dorit. She was from his own milieu, the daughter of a prominent accountant who did Berdiplast’s external reviews. He’d liked her but never truly cared for her, never told her he loved her. Because he didn’t. But she seemed to be the safe choice, the one to make. She was part of a future he’d thought he wanted. Gideon shuddered. He was at least grateful to his father for that—for the total shake-up.

He had been dating Dorit for a year when he found out about the Beer Sheva family and had his meltdown. He hadn’t told her why he made all these life changing choices, and she didn’t insist, showing very little curiosity. Once he’d bought his open-ended ticket, they’d decided to take a break. He kept faith, but only a couple of weeks into his travels, Dorit sent him a text, telling him she started seeing someone else and to make their break-up a formality. Gideon had been upset for exactly half a day, and then he was relieved, and later that very same day, happy about it.

“There’s nothing between us,” he told his sly mother, whose blue eyes creased in disbelief. “In less than a month they announce the new chief analyst, and then she will be my boss, or I’ll be hers.”

“Great idea!” his mother said. “Thank you!”

“What?”

“For a romantic conflict. For my books.” Naomi smirked.

The brioche was served. It was airy and crispy and when Gideon took a bite, his mouth was teased with sourness and spiciness in just the right amounts. He wiped his plate clean of the tasty sauce. His mother hardly ate her portion. She poured more wine, and Gideon looked on disapprovingly as she drank.

“When you stare at me like that, you look just like Paulina.”

“Okay, Imma, what’s going on? You never drink like that.”

“Listen, Abba and I are having a big celebration for our fortieth wedding anniversary."

“Yes. In two weeks, right? You told me you took an event planner.”

“I did. She asked for materials for the presentation, you know, pictures, old family movies. I need your help. Your father is overseas this weekend, away... Come and help me. I hate sleeping alone in that big house even with the dogs... Please...”

His mother voice trailed.

Gideon’s plans for a night or two over the weekend with Tamar just flew out the window. Shit. He handled Tamar badly yesterday. He should have told her he was meeting his mother for dinner tonight and arranged to meet her afterwards.

“Sure. You have me for the weekend. I promise.”

Now that he gave his mother her wish, his evening might be over soon. He whipped out his phone, debating what to message Tamar. They had never texted each other before. Sending her an “Awake?” text might seem crass. His fingers hovered over his phone.

“I’m worried about your father.” His mother’s voice cut in on his text-forming hesitations. “He wears himself thin. He spends too much time on the Southern plant in Sderot.”

Sderot was a short drive from Beer Sheva. Gideon scrutinized his mother’s face, his heart beating way too fast. But there was no accusation or question. It was just a general statement.

“Okay. Sounds normal,” he said with caution, his father’s secret heavy on his conscience.

Naomi’s beautiful face was clouded with concern.

“Something is troubling him and I’m not sure what it is. It has to do with Berdiplast. You know we never talk business.”

“Will you order mains?” the waiter asked.

“No,” Gideon answered just as his mother said ‘yes’.

“Stop checking your phone, Tamar isn’t going to call.”

Gideon gave up. He silenced his phone and put it face down on the table. His mother nodded approval.

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