The Matchmaker's Gift(73)
“There was never a contract,” Ida confirmed. “My father considered Sara a close family friend. He never referred to her as a matchmaker. It wasn’t until long after I was married that I ever knew of her chosen profession.”
“But she introduced you to your husband, yes?”
“She did,” Ida said. “Outside the synagogue on Yom Kippur. In truth, my father never got over the fact that my husband and I met that day. He could not see how anyone could fall in love on a day of fasting and repentance.”
“And yet, your father covered the Glikmans’ debts for many years?”
Ida nodded. “He did, but you must understand: my father loved Sara as if she were his own family. She gave him the gift of his daughter’s happiness. Whatever money he donated on behalf of the Glikman family, he gave out of love, not business obligation.”
“That money could have gone to one of us!” the Lewis Street shadchan shouted.
Ida’s eyes blazed with fury. “Never!” she said. “After what happened with my first fiancé, my father was disgusted with all of you! Besides, after I ended my first engagement, none of you introduced me to anyone suitable.”
“They considered me unworthy of their attention as well.” It was Miss Perelman now who stood to speak. It had been half a dozen years since Sara had last seen her favorite teacher, but it was as if she had not aged a day. Her eyes were as bright and as thoughtful as they had been in the classroom. “I am Sophie Potashman, formerly Perelman. Until a few days ago, I had no idea that Sara played any part in bringing about my marriage.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Rabbi Kaufman said, sneering.
“Believe what you like, but it is true. At twenty-seven, I was considered too old to marry. The men in this room declared me unlovable. One day, Sara encouraged me to visit the grocer on Grand Street for strawberries. She was adamant that I go. At the time, I did not think much of it, but she had already met my husband, Sam. I don’t know how, but Sara knew what would happen when Sam and I met.”
“And she never contacted you later for payment?”
“Never,” Miss Perelman insisted.
“She asked for nothing from my family either.” It was Miryam now who had decided to speak.
“And yet, we just heard that your father gave Mr. Glikman a gold bracelet.”
“I did not learn about that until recently,” Miryam said. “I suspect it was my mother who insisted upon it. She is very superstitious, and she would have wanted to ensure that the marriage was a happy one by offering something to the family.”
“Still,” Rabbi Kaufman continued. “Mr. Glikman lied about this gift, and Sara Glikman lied as well.”
“The matter of the bracelet is unfortunate,” Rabbi Sheinkopf admitted, “but perhaps—”
“I will resolve it!” Hindel called out, stepping up to the table where the three judges sat. She slowly pulled a small felt bag from the pocket of her coat and placed it on the table. “My family is prepared to return the bracelet in order to set the matter right.”
The shadchanim fidgeted in their seats and craned their necks to see what Sara’s sister had brought. Slowly, she slipped the bracelet from its pouch and held it up for the room to see. “Our mother hid this years ago, but in her quest to keep it safe, she forgot where she put it. Luckily, she recovered it this morning.”
Sara’s lips curved into a smile. So that was what her mother had been searching for.
Rabbi Pearl held his hands up for silence and paused for a few moments to think. Eventually, he cleared his throat. “Thank you, ladies, for your testimony. Rabbi Sheinkopf, Rabbi Kaufman, forgive me if I am wrong, but I believe the only question left to discuss is the question of Miss Glikman’s marital status.”
Sara tried to maintain her composure, but inside, she burned with indignation. “With all due respect,” she said, “I believe it is wrong to impose marriage as a condition of this vocation. Furthermore, I do not believe that it is a requirement under our law.” She pointed to the shadchanim. “Many of the men in this room are widowers. They are unmarried, and yet, they still work.”
“That,” Rabbi Kaufman scoffed, “is an entirely different matter.”
“I do not believe it is,” said Sara. “In any event, I do not intend to marry.”
Rabbi Pearl’s face went white with surprise. “Why do you say this?” he demanded. “Why have you come to such a decision?”
“The decision is … an unfortunate consequence of my particular matchmaking method.” Sara searched for the right words to explain. “When the inspiration to make a match strikes me, it often comes without any warning. Sometimes I am moved to match strangers, but often I am struck to make a match for someone I already know. What would happen if my inspiration comes for the man I intend to marry? What if I find his true soulmate only after he and I are wed? How can I marry knowing that such heartache may be waiting in both our futures?”
“You are certain of matches for other people, but you cannot be certain for yourself?” The sneer on Rabbi Kaufman’s lips took over his entire face.
Beryl wrapped a protective arm around Sara. “Some of the best shoemakers go barefoot,” she said. “So, I don’t see why a matchmaker must be married.”