Page 60 of The Dreidl Disaster

“Leah.” He paused again, looking at her with the expression of someone who is convinced they may have either made the wrong choice or asked someone the wrong question. “I know it’s a common name…but…”

“It’s fine,” Liv said. “She’s my cousin.”

“Oh good.” Isaac shook his head. “Sometimes I can be counted upon to say the worst things and because it took you so long to reply, I thought I did this time, but I’m glad to know I didn’t. Anyway, have you met her boyfriend?”

Again, she nodded. “Samuel is lovely,” she said.

And then a lightning bolt went off in her head.

Her husband’s part of the Brooklyn art crew that includes a sofer…

“Tell him I said hello,” Isaac continued, oblivious of the web of connection coming to life in her head, even more so than it had before.

“I will,” she said. “Next time I see him.”

“Good.”

And as Isaac headed off, she found herself alone, with a drink and a snack, knowing that this was definitely a wonderful evening.

All thanks to Artur.

Who was…somewhere.

And Liv needed to find him.

*

“She’s looking antsy.”Abe, of course. “Looking like she’s having fun, but a bit antsy.”

Artur nodded. “Yeah. I just…”

“Let me get this straight,” Abe said shaking his head. “You heard the advice I gave you before this started, and then decided to ignore it completely? Is that the gist of it?”

The advice he gave before…

Right. The advice Abe had given him before he’d headed out with Leo on parking duty. In front of the smoker, in front of the side dishes.

“You’re going to be tempted to leave her to her own devices,” Abe said. “So she can give in to her own impulses about networking and what she thinks she’s here for.”

“And that’s not a good idea?”

Abe shook his head. “You’ve invited her here. Yes. Let her network and meet people, but don’t leave her alone completely. That’s not what this is for.”

“So what is it for?”

The expression on Abe’s face would have, in childhood when both of them were much smaller, heralded some kind of shaking, some moment where Abe grabbed his shoulders and shook, as if the motion would somehow get the brain to where Abe thought it should be.

But now, only the expression remained, a phantom limb of childhood experiences and learned conversations.

And moments where lessons were expected.

“You don’t know?” Abe asked, incredulity lacing his words like caramel on ice cream. “You need to go check on her. You need to find her.”

She was doing business, finding her feet. If he stopped her too early, he’d lose her. “But…”

“No buts. She’s not drowning,” Abe said. “But she’s not relaxed either. She seems like she’s looking for something, and I’ll bet it’s not a thing she’s looking for but ayou.”

“She’s not ready… I…”

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