“He didn’t tell me.”
“Well, my understanding is that the two of you aren’t close.”
He scoffed. “That’s the understatement of the year.”
We stood there looking at one another.
“You’re wasting your time with him,” he told me. “You could do better.”
It took everything in me not to yell. “You don’t know him,” I replied icily.
He scoffed and walked by me.
“And that’s too bad,” I began, turning around to watch him head toward the bathroom, “you’re missing out on a great friend.”
He didn’t answer, just walked on, so I let it go.
After five more courses and then dessert, I was still hungry, and all I wanted was a veggie burger, but I was polite and civil. I laughed at jokes, wasn’t withdrawn or quiet enough for anyone to notice, and whenever Cel asked me a question, I answered.
At the end of the night, waiting for the valet to bring my silver Lexus RX, Cel took hold of my arm. “What happened? You weren’t yourself.”
“I like going out with our friends, but I don’t love mandatory social interactions because of the job. Being on all day and night is not my idea of fun.”
Cel chuckled. “You’d make a terrible dancer. We have to be kind and gracious at all times. The public never stops being fans, and people are ready to tear you down if you misstep.”
I whimpered.
“Would you like your burger now?”
I nodded.
“Why don’t we call your mother and ask if she’s hungry or up for a visit.”
My face scrunched up.
Cel gasped. “Eli Kohn, you missed synagogue last week and brunch. You need to call your mother. Not to mention, we should see her before she’s off on her cruise. I think she leaves tomorrow.”
And he was right, but all I really wanted was to be with him.
6
CELSO
Eli’s mother lived in the Gold Coast, on North State Parkway, in what she called her cabana. In no way was it a cabana. Built in 1900, it was a fantastic example of Chicago’s Beaux Arts architecture. There were five bedrooms—because she always had company—three full bathrooms, and two partials. Overall, she had nearly nine thousand square feet split into three levels. Not a single set of stairs went straight up; instead, the steps leading from one level to the next were in different places on each floor.
Within the house was a library, a spacious office, half of which was what you would expect—desk computer, office supplies—and the other side filled with crafting materials and yarn. So much yarn. There was an enormous but somehow cozy family room, a sitting room, a formal dining room, a home theater, a sunroom, a gym, and a two-car heated garage because no one wanted to have cold seats in the winter. I couldn’t very well argue. What I liked best were the three private outdoor areas: a lavishly decorated rooftop deck where she did a lot of entertaining; a terrace off the kitchen that opened to her greenhouse where her amaryllis, orchids, anthuriums, hibiscus, and African violets lived; and the third, a space above the garage which was reserved for communing with the birds. There were all manner of birdhouses and birdbaths, different parts for the crows and ravens, a high perch for the owl, and lots of binoculars for anyone who wanted to spend time outside. The landscaping was gorgeous, especially if you loved lilac and hydrangeas and wisteria, which I did. She often walked her three dogs to the lake and back, which was farther than Eli liked her to go alone, but even though one of her dogs was a Chihuahua, the other two were Dobermans. We knew that Doc and Marty were harmless, but anyone who saw them did not. They were big, muscular dogs who could most often be found at home lying on their backs on the couches in the living room. The one most people were afraid of was the Chihuahua, aptly named Grendel. As far as I could tell, he liked three people on the planet, one of which was me. I was happy to have made the cut.
When we reached the house, Eli used his fob for the garage door—the one on the right was for him—to pull in and park. We went from there to the mudroom, the laundry room, and finally popped out into the cavernous kitchen with marble countertops, gold-inlay art-deco cabinetry, and appliances that any professional chef would be pleased with. Barbara Kohn was of course cooking, because Eli had called and asked if she wanted a burger since we were stopping to get some for us.
No, she didn’t want a burger; she was cooking dinner for her guests already since she was leaving on her cruise the following day and wouldn’t be around for the next couple of weeks. She told us that we should just pop over.
“I don’t want to stay long,” Eli whispered. “I love her, but I just want to sit on my couch and watch TV with you.”
I had to wonder if he ever heard himself when he spoke.
“There’s my boys,” she announced loudly, and I could smell her world-famous brisket that I’d never tried but everyone always raved over. “Cel, honey, I made a veggie kugel for you. I used the non-egg, egg noodles you love, and I packed it with mushrooms and kale and zucchini.”
“That sounds amazing,” I gushed.