The Matchmaker's Gift(64)

“I understand,” Sara said. “But I would not have sought you out without good cause. I make love matches, Beryl. I swear. And I came to tell you that I have found your bashert.”

Beryl threw her head back and laughed until the tears poured down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes with her apron. “But how could you know who my soulmate is?”

“I can’t explain it,” Sara admitted. “But I’ve been doing this since I was ten years old, and I haven’t been wrong yet. I see what I see. I know what I know. Please, all I ask is that you give me a chance. If you don’t like the man, you’ll tell me so. What could be the harm in that?”

Beryl bit down on her lower lip, considering the strange proposal. “You say you’ve already found him then?”

“I have. Though your match is not without complications.”

“What do you mean, complications? Is he married? Divorced? Is he an old man?”

“No, no, nothing like that at all. He’s young and handsome. He’s never been married. His family has a successful business.”

“Well, what is it then? What’s the problem? Why do you speak to me in riddles?”

“Because the man is Morty Finkel, from the store across the street.”

This time, Beryl did not laugh. Her lips curled into an angry frown. When she spoke again, her voice was low, as if she did not want to be overheard. “What kind of trick is this?” she whispered. “Who have you spoken with? What do you know?” She reached across the counter and grabbed Sara’s wrist. “Tell me now, or you’ll regret it.”

With great effort, Sara yanked her hand away. “I did not mean to upset you,” she said. “I’m only telling you the truth.”

“But how, how? I’ve told no one. Not even Morty himself.”

Sara felt a buzzing of joy in her chest. “So, you already feel it? You already know?” It was her turn to admire Beryl now.

“Of course I do. But how do you know?”

Sara tried to explain herself then, to tell Beryl a bit of what she had seen. “The feelings come to me unannounced. I can’t predict them. I can’t control it.”

Beryl’s eyes were full of sympathy. “It is for you as it was for me. I can’t control my emotions either. If I could, I wouldn’t fall in love with a man I could never hope to marry.”

“Why would you say such a thing?”

“You said it yourself—there are complications. Our families are practically at war. The Finkels have hated us from the very first day we opened this shop. My mother wanted a store closer to the Bowery, so as to avoid a rivalry. But none of the other landlords would rent to her. This was the only place she could find.”

Sara nodded. “I understand.”

“And it isn’t only that the Finkels hate us. My parents have no fondness for their family either.”

This time it was Sara who reached for Beryl’s hand. “If you will trust me, I promise you, I will bring about the match.”

Beryl looked down at Sara’s bare fingers. “I don’t understand. You’re not even married. If you’re so gifted at finding love for other people, why have you found no one for yourself?”

Sara shrugged. “Some of the best shoemakers go barefoot, they say. Now then, will you trust me, Beryl? Will you allow me to do this for you?”

Beryl’s green eyes filled with tears. “Please,” she said. “Do whatever you can.”



* * *



Beryl and Morty were married four months later. By the end of the year, if she included the knish makers, Sara had made a total of five successful matches. One by one, the stack of bills on her mother’s nightstand disappeared.

At first, the shadchanim were confused. They were not prepared for Sara’s boldness, so when she began making matches in the open, they did not know how to respond. They began by increasing their intimidation tactics—sending more men to follow her, spreading false rumors, and stealing her signs from the local shop windows. But as her reputation grew and flourished, the group of old men became increasingly desperate.

Sara knew it was only a matter of time before they tried something more daring. She was not at all surprised when she received a summons to appear before the beis din—the rabbinical court.

Rabbi Sheinkopf had already given her the news of what the shadchanim had planned. The beis din was not a centralized court. There was no formal courthouse, and no jury to convene. All that was required was to bring together a panel of three rabbis to hear the case. Rabbi Sheinkopf would be one, but the other two were men Sara did not know. As a woman appearing all alone, Sara would be at a disadvantage. Had her father or her brother Joe been alive, they would have accompanied her to the hearing as her advocate. Aaron offered, but Sara knew that he was too passive of a man to be effective.

Before the beis din was scheduled, Sara made up her mind to seek professional help. The Educational Alliance was a settlement house that served the whole of the Lower East Side. In addition to classes, a children’s theater, and an art school, the Alliance also offered legal assistance. When one of Aaron’s friends had a problem with his employer, an attorney from the Alliance’s Legal Aid Bureau helped to collect the salary he was owed. “You should go see them,” her brother-in-law suggested. “The lawyers there are very smart. The beis din isn’t a typical court, but even so, it couldn’t hurt.”