Murder At The Mikvah (13 page)

Lauren sighed, remembering the drama of that twenty-four hour period vividly. “Maybe another time,” she said, despite the look of anticipation on Howard’s face. She craned her neck toward the Orenstein kids. “Some content may not be suitable for young children.”

Howard smiled. “Okay, so I’ll have to hear the details another time, but at least tell me this: Do you have any regrets about leaving?”

The table suddenly went quiet, as if on cue. Feeling the pressure of so many attentive listeners, Lauren took a moment to collect her thoughts. She heard the voice of her father and his harsh words:
It's not like you'll ever have a man to support you…

For sure her parents had regrets about her leaving her job. But did she? Lauren sat up and spoke calmly. “I knew I wanted to do something else with my life, but I was afraid for so long… Afraid of change, I suppose.” She shrugged. This was the part she had to tiptoe over; the affair at work was not something she was particularly proud of. “Then one day I just did it. I guess it was the right time… though, I have to admit, there were a few sleepless nights after that.” She hesitated, then looked up and smiled at Yehuda. “But, I'm happy to report that I did finally stop second guessing myself thanks to that exercise we did last week in class.” Howard and Jonathon nodded knowingly.

“What is this exercise you do?” Sonia whispered from across the table looking directly at Lauren. Besides a bit of hush-toned conversing with Hannah, these were the only words she had spoken out loud during the entire meal.

“Yehuda had us write own obituary,” Lauren said, speaking directly to Sonia. “It sounded morbid to me at first, but it made me really think: What would I want it to say? When I'm gone, what do I want to be remembered for? What will my legacy be?”

Sonia’s face dropped. Lauren’s words were having some kind of effect on her, though not necessarily a good one.

“We all want meaning in our lives—not regrets,” Lauren added.

 Seventeen

“Um, my friend’s sitting there,” a blond, bug-eyed woman told Lauren. The woman grabbed the chair and pulled it closer. Then she plopped her bag on it, marking her territory like a dog.

Lauren sighed. Like Sonia, she must have had too much to drink at the Orenstein's home last month. Why else would she have promised to attend one of Hannah's daytime classes at The Jewish Learning Center? Especially today. She should have known things would not go well
today
. First Rosie had gotten into some curling ribbon and thrown up on the carpet, then her car wouldn’t start—
again
—and she ended up taking the train and getting stuck sitting next to a man who smelled like he had slept in a dumpster. Lauren was further dismayed to walk into the center and find no sign of Janine, who was always around during Yehuda’s evening classes.

“Sorry,” Lauren said, backing away. She quickly found another seat around the giant square that had been formed from four long tables, and watched as the bug woman warmly greeted her friend minutes later
. So much for Loving Thy Neighbor
Lauren thought dryly. She picked a couple of cookies from a plate that happened to be within arms reach, watching intently as more and more women, ranging in age from twenty-five to forty came in and took their seats. They were an attractive group—
well maintained
, Lauren would call it—physically fit with long manicured nails, perfectly waxed eyebrows and bouncy highlighted hair. Some wore workout spandex; others waltzed in wearing tailored slacks and fitted blouses. They all had the same self-assuredness she lacked, and not just because of the jeans and sweatshirt she had chosen to wear today. The bug-eyed woman stood up to get a cup of coffee. She wore low cut designer jeans with an oversized buckled belt, probably intended to draw attention to a pilates-toned midriff. Funny, surrounded by this group, Lauren couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t belong. In a way, it felt like high school all over.

Ten minutes passed and still, Hannah had not yet arrived. But the women didn’t seem to mind. Around the table, they chatted away like they were at a cocktail party; several animated conversations taking place all at once. Lauren overheard pieces of them—about clothing, jewelry, diets, vacation plans, restaurants, finding a good nanny or housekeeper or personal trainer. She glanced around expectantly, wondering if Hannah was
ever
going to show up, and met the gaze of the bug woman's friend, a tall brunette, freshly pedicured with leather flip-flops on her feet. The woman returned Lauren's smile by giving her a once over and abruptly turning her head and whispering something to her friend who glanced Lauren's way and nodded. Lauren swallowed and tugged on her braids. Max always liked her in braids—said she looked cute—but here, with these women, she felt like an idiot.
Nice group
she thought, and considered getting up and leaving. If only she could walk out without drawing attention to herself! But she had promised Hannah she would come to a class, she reminded herself, and took a deep breath. She reached for her purse and rummaged through it, looking for her palm pilot. Until Hannah arrived, she decided, she would use the time to update her electronic calendar, deleting the tasks that had been scheduled in her former life as a fully employed woman. Weekly breakfast meetings with Chip—
delete.
Monthly print media forecast session—
delete.
Three day convention in Aspen? Damn… she had forgotten about that one! Oh well—
delete.

To Lauren's relief, Hannah came flying in minutes later, handbag swinging and blurting her sincere apologies. Her prenatal checkup had gone on longer than expected, she told them, placing her hand over her pregnancy bulge. According to the doctor, this baby was much more active than the others had been. Nothing to worry about though, everything was fine. After polite acknowledgments, the room quieted and Hannah took her position at the head of the table. The topic for the day?
Tzniut.
Modesty in action and appearance. Humility in our dealings with others. Lauren nearly choked on her cookie.

An hour later, the women collected their designer handbags, and filtered out the door. Hannah gathered up her notes and to Lauren's astonishment, headed straight toward Bug Eyes.

“How did the surgery go?” she heard Hannah ask.

“Fine, fine. He'll be home tonight,” Bug Eyes replied so sweetly it made Lauren want to puke.

“Baruch Hashem,” Hannah said, giving her a squeeze of the hand and smiling warmly into her eyes.

Totally
clueless
, Lauren couldn’t help but think. Hannah might be knowledgeable as far as religion went, but she obviously couldn’t see through people at all. After a minute, Bug Eyes left with her friend, and Hannah headed toward Lauren, but was intercepted by a tall woman who must have come in late and taken a seat in the back. The woman had an odd gait, walking with her shoulders hunched like she was either in pain or wanted to make herself smaller. Lauren studied the woman's face carefully—she looked so familiar—and was shocked when she suddenly realized who it was.
Sonia Lyman.
Sonia wore a shiny tracksuit and had tucked her long hair into a black baseball cap. Her face was free of makeup and her eyes looked puffy, like she had been crying for hours. Lauren swore she saw Sonia flinch when Hannah knowingly placed a gentle hand on her back and led her to a private office.

Lauren plopped down in her chair, completely shocked by Sonia's transformation. Last month at the Orenstein's home she had been beautifully dressed and confident. Confident in
appearance,
anyway. Lauren recalled how quiet Sonia had been during the meal. The only time she spoke up was when the discussion turned philosophical.
We all want meaning in our lives, not regrets.
Did Sonia need vocational guidance? Did she miss her family? Her country?
Lauren sighed. That was probably it. She understood too well how it felt to be uprooted. It wasn’t easy to start fresh. But Sonia had done it by choice. She had
willingly
married an American; certainly she had to understand that doing so would mean leaving her family behind. Lauren recalled the way Sonia spoke on the phone to her husband—apologizing for some mistake she had apparently made—she sounded so afraid. A bad marriage would explain Sonia's homesickness, and it didn’t take a genius to see that the honeymoon, if there had ever been one, was long over.

Lauren folded her arms, disgusted as she glanced around the table. Most of the women had left their mess for someone else to clean up. What was that all about? They couldn’t spare a minute to throw away their paper cups? Bug Eyes even left used tissues behind! Spoiled, that's what they were! These women were used to living perfect lives and getting waited on hand and foot.

“Hey there! How was class?” Janine Miller hustled in, weighted down by a brown grocery bag. She flew past Lauren toward a small kitchenette in the back, returning seconds later with a spray bottle and a roll of paper towels. “Did Hannah leave? She usually hangs out for a while after her class.”

Lauren was still annoyed, thinking about the women from class. She lifted her chin, gesturing toward the closed office door. “She’s in there with Sonia Lyman.”

“Oh… Okay,” Janine said, studying Lauren. “Uh, everything all right?”

“Peachy.”

Janine grimaced. “Was class
that
bad?”

Lauren couldn’t help but laugh at Janine's exaggerated expression. “Class was fine. It's a few of the
students
I wasn’t so thrilled with.”

Janine nodded knowingly. “Let me guess, was it Cynthia?”

Lauren shrugged. “I don't know her name.”

“Did she have eyes that kind of stuck out from her face?”

Lauren laughed again. “That's the one.”

“Cynthia Bergerman… yeah, she can be tough… but you shouldn't let her get to you,” Janine said, waving her hand.

“Easier said than done,” Lauren muttered. “What's her deal, anyway?”

“You mean why is she such a
witch
?” Janine asked, making a funny face.

Lauren nodded, covering her mouth to stifle what felt like an explosive laugh.

“Well first of all, she married money,” Janine said, no longer joking. “Cynthia's father-in-law owns the Bergerman Bagel Company. Hubby works in the business, though he had a brief falling out with his dad a year or so ago…”

“How do you know all this?” Lauren asked.

Janine smiled coyly. “I have the scoop on everyone who comes through those doors. I suppose it’s a benefit of my natural attention to detail. I don't miss
anything
.”

“Well, I've known a lot of wealthy people,” Lauren said, shaking her head in disgust, “and they're not all like that.”

“I know,” Janine said. “I guess it has to do with upbringing.”

“In other words, her parents probably spoiled her,” Lauren said.

Janine shrugged. “Maybe… Hey, want to hear something funny?”

Lauren lifted her eyebrows and leaned in. “Sure.”

“Cynthia makes her housekeeper wear an actual
maid's
uniform.”

Lauren scrunched her forehead doubtfully. “Come on…
really
?” she asked skeptically.

“I swear!” Janine insisted. “One time I had to drop something off at her house… or should I say
mansion
… and I saw it firsthand.”

Lauren laughed. “Let me guess… was it a
French
maid costume? Her husband must love that.”

“Not quite. Cynthia's the jealous type. She doesn’t hire anyone unless they're at least thirty pounds overweight. The maid I saw was even heavier.”

“You're kidding. Cynthia's really
that
insecure?”

“Uh huh.”

For a split second Lauren felt a pang of sympathy for Cynthia; after all, she knew firsthand what it felt like to be unsure in love. But one look at the pile of snotty tissues and she snapped right out of it.

“Does she live around here?” What Lauren really wanted to know was
will I be bumping into her often?

“Cynthia? Are you kidding? No way!” Janine could tell from Lauren’s expression that she had no idea what she was talking about, so she elaborated. “Most of Hannah's students live further out in the
wealthier
areas. Cynthia lives in Wynnford.”

Lauren had heard of it. “Pretty swanky.”

Janine nodded. “You can't find a house for under a million, two out there.”

Lauren gestured toward the table. “Let me give you a hand with this.”

“Great,” Janine said, tossing her the roll of towels. “I’ll clear, you wipe.”

Lauren picked up a tray of cake and sighed. “I don’t know why you even bother putting this stuff out! Not one of those women ate more than a bite.”

“Well, they’re excused for being on perpetual diets,” Janine said, “since they
are
paying my salary.”

It took Lauren a minute to realize what Janine was saying. The Jewish Learning Center relied on contributions. These women—or their husbands—apparently gave
big
.

Just then, the office phone rang and Janine jogged off toward the front desk to answer it. Two minutes later she returned, her cheeks flushed.

“What is it?” Lauren asked. “What just happened? You're practically glowing.”

“Remember Howard from the Orenstein's Shabbat dinner?”

“Of course.”

“He wants to get together for coffee.”

“Oh…Well, he seems like a nice enough guy,” Lauren said without looking up. She was busy brushing some crumbs into her hand.

“Oh my gosh,” Janine said, “You were talking to him too… I hope you weren’t…”

“I wasn’t
wha
t?” Lauren asked as Janine bit her lip nervously. Suddenly Lauren understood. She held up both hands in protest. “Oh, no! Not at all. Trust me Janine, Howard’s all yours.”

Janine exhaled.

“So you agreed to meet him for coffee?” Lauren asked, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

“Yep. Tomorrow.” Janine laughed. “Wait until I tell Hannah that her strategy worked!”

Lauren tilted her head. “
Strategy
?”

Janine nodded. “Hannah seated me next to Howard at dinner to try and—you know—fix us up.” She wagged her finger playfully. “Be forewarned Lauren; Hannah's into matchmaking—big time!” Janine carefully covered a plate of bobka with plastic wrap, but not before popping a small piece in her mouth. “I don't know what her secret is, but I have to admit, she has quite a knack for it.”