The Two-Family House(14)

Gino cleared his throat and adjusted his bow tie. “Of course not! A big family is a blessing! Welcome, all of you!” He took the ma?tre d’ aside, whispered in his ear and practically pushed him through the double glass doors into the dining room.

“My friends, the waiters are setting up a special table for you. The best table in the house!” He led them to a long table set up at the very center of the dining room. The eyes of all the other diners were on them as they crossed the floor. Helen felt like a celebrity. Only Sol can do this, she thought. He just waltzes in and takes over.

When Helen and Sol were young, their grandmother used to come over every Friday after school to watch them. It was the day their mother got her hair done and ran her errands. In the summer when they had no school, their grandmother came on Friday mornings, right after breakfast. On her way, she stopped at Gus’s Deli to pick up bologna, water rolls and a small chocolate cake. Helen hated bologna, and every Friday she hid as many slices as she could in her napkin.

When the lunch plates were cleared, Helen’s grandmother would bring out the miniature cake box from Gus’s. Every Friday she would put the box on the table in front of Sol. Every Friday she would say, “I got this cake especially for you, darling.” And every Friday she’d say to Helen, “Of course, it’s for you too.”

The cake was small, more like an oversized cupcake, perfect for two children to share. Thick chocolate icing held it together, and chocolate sprinkles were scattered on the top. An unnaturally red and shiny candied cherry topped it off.

Every Friday, Sol would call dibs on the cherry, and every Friday, Helen would protest. Every Friday, Helen’s grandmother would feign surprise, and every Friday, she’d say the same thing: “Helen, just give it to your brother. It’s only a cherry. You can have it next week.” After years of Fridays, Helen learned the lesson.

Their table at the restaurant was set with a heavy white linen cloth, flawlessly pressed. Red roses, open to bursting, were in the center. Sol took the spot at the head, with Arlene on his right and Helen on his left. Mort sat next to Arlene, followed by Rose. “Wait,” said Helen, remembering her earlier promise. “I’ll move down one. Judith, sweetheart, sit here between me and Sol.”

Rose was irritated. “Judith should sit here, next to me.”

Judith, caught in the middle, stood perfectly still. “Aunt Helen said I could sit next to her tonight,” she said.

“Well, Aunt Helen doesn’t decide where you sit,” Rose snapped.

Helen tried to explain. “I told her on our walk today that we could sit together tonight.”

Mort spoke up: “I don’t want my daughter sitting next to some—”

“Mort!” Rose interrupted before he could say more. “Judith, come sit here. Now.”

“Sit next to your mother, sweetheart,” Helen whispered, as she moved over and ushered Abe to take the chair on her left. Judith took her place next to Rose, directly across from Harry, who immediately passed her the breadbasket. “The rolls are really good,” he said. He was trying to be kind, but Judith was too embarrassed to reply.

Sol was busy lighting a cigarette for Arlene. He was so attentive to his wife that he barely noticed the spat over Judith’s seat. When the waiter arrived, Sol ordered scotches for himself, Abe and Mort, and a bottle of champagne for the ladies.

“I don’t drink scotch,” Mort said, but Sol hadn’t heard. He was too busy making sure Arlene could reach the butter for her roll.

“Who do you like in the Dodgers-Phillies game tomorrow?” asked Abe cheerfully.

Sol took a sip of the scotch that had just arrived. “Don Newcombe is one of the best pitchers in the league. Hank Bowery doesn’t stand a chance against him. The Dodgers will take them tomorrow for sure.”

“I don’t think so,” piped up Joe from the far end of the table.

“Oh yeah? You don’t like the Dodgers?” Sol’s interest was piqued.

“They’re my favorite team! But I heard Newcombe’s got a bum arm. That’s why he only pitched one inning in Thursday’s game.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d you hear that?”

Joe shrugged, “I’ve got my sources,” he said.

Sol laughed. “Did you hear this one?” he said to Arlene. She nodded and sipped her glass of champagne. “He’s got sources.”

“He’s adorable,” Arlene told Helen.

“Joe knows a lot about baseball, Uncle Sol,” said Sam solemnly.

“Yeah, plus he’s got the best baseball card collection in our whole grade,” affirmed George.

“Well, Joe,” said Sol, “if you’re so sure about the game, how ’bout you and I make a little wager?”

“Sol!” warned Helen. “Don’t.”

Sol held up his hands. “Calm down, calm down, I was only kidding.”

“See?” Mort said to Rose, loud enough for Helen to hear. “Do you see what kind of a person he is?”

Abe jumped in: “No one’s making any bets. But if I were you, Sol, I wouldn’t bet against Joe when it comes to baseball.”

Sol smiled. “You wouldn’t, huh? Well, Joe, maybe you’ll come work for your uncle Sol one day.”

“God forbid!” said Mort.