“Whoa, hey, I uhm… have you been out here long?” I asked with my front door still open behind me. Dad’s voice about heating the outside echoed in my head, so I hurried to close it.
“Two minutes fourteen seconds.” He held up his arm to show me a sharp wristwatch with a stalled timer showing. “I was going to wait for another minute forty-six seconds before knocking. Being on time is crucial for establishing good relations with new friends.”
“True.” God, this guy did it for me. He was so earnest. “But this is my house. Eli lives next door.”
Chip glanced at the bright white door with the narrow brass mezuzah affixed to the post. The shiny tube held a small prayer, which fulfills a commandment to write God’s words on doorposts. A declaration of faith as well as a reminder to love and serve God. A man learned a lot living next to a rabbi.
“Oh. Well, then we should move tothatstoop before we’re late. Statistically, people attending small dinner parties are prone to being at least twenty-nine minutes late, while larger groups of twenty-five or more see attendees show up seventy minutes late. Ideally, showing up on time is polite. But five to ten minutes after the stated arrival time is acceptable as being fashionably late. We’re now,” he glanced at his watch, “two minutes late. So, it will make us fashionable.”
“You’re pretty amazing,” I said, which earned me a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Right where a soft kiss could be pressed.
Or not. Not. So not. This was just friendship in the making. No kissing. Friends do not kiss. Firefighters who save victims donotkiss the person they recently saved. Handshakes, yes. Kissing, no. Handholding was probably a dark gray space Sully would overlook as a display of comfort. Yes. That was it. I’d been… oh, fuck it. This was a ticking time bomb, and I hadzerotraining in explosive ordnance disposal. Things were going to go BOOM if I didn’t get my head clear and my dick under control. Ishould stop this now. I should kiss him. Christ. What the hell did I want here?!
He seemed flustered. Sable whined softly. I shook off the lust and the light snow from my head and waved at Eli’s door just as my mother pulled up in her bright red Equinox.
“There’s my mom,” I said, easing around Chip and his dog, inhaling the scent of his body wash as I brushed his shoulder. He smelled of pine wood. Very crisp. Very appealing.
Very off limits.
Coward that I am, I jogged down the few steps to greet my mother exiting her car. We hugged briefly.
“You look good. The shirt fits well.” She patted my shoulders. “Do you not own a coat?”
“Mom, I was walking ten feet. I don’t think hypothermia will set in from my door to Eli’s.” She smiled up at me then glanced around me. I turned to face Chip, still on my stoop. “This is Chip Cornish. A new friend. And his dog, Sable.”
“Nice to meet you, Chip, and Sable as well. Can you get the crockpot of macaroni and cheese out of the back seat?”
“Sure. Chip, come on down. We’ll be going to Eli’s now,” I called and watched as my mother—possessing maternal drives akin to a mother bear—smiled widely and waved Chip to her side to lead him to Eli’s front step. Not that he needed her help even with a crutch, but she was always a little overprotective. I was toting a milk crate with a hot crockpot wrapped in a beach towel up the short walk when the white door opened wide.
“Baruch haba! Welcome! Come in, come in out of the cold. You bring blessing to my humble home,” Eli announced with joy. Sable’s tail started wagging as her master studied the host intently for a moment, then, slowly, ever so slowly, gifted the rabbi a wide smile. I nearly fell up the steps upon seeing a brilliant flash of white teeth.
Thankfully, only Eli noticed.
We entered his home, a warm, slim two-story exactly like mine, but everything was in reverse. A cramped foyer held a coat closet, a tray for wet shoes, and an umbrella stand shaped like a big white duck.
“So nice to see you again, Danielle. You look chipper as always,” Eli said as he took our coats to hang them in the closet while we toed off our snowy shoes. “I have the kippah basket if you gents would like one?” He turned to face us with a wicker basket piled full of yarmulkes. “You don’t have to wear one just because I have one on, so don’t feel pressured. I just like to offer them to my guests.”
“I’ll take the rainbow one,” Chip piped up, eagerly placing the small cap on his dark, curly hair. “Thank you, Rabbi.”
“You’re welcome. Dane, here, let me take that so you can dig out the Yankees kippah. I gave them all a nice wash the other day, so they might be a little wrinkled.”
Eli took the crockpot in a crate from my hands. I dug around, found the white and blue head cap, and with a nod flashed a grin at Chip.
“This smells amazing, Danielle!" Eli said with a warm smile, leaning in to enjoy the aroma from the crockpot, which had shifted slightly during the handoff.
“It sounded like a good side dish,” Mom replied as we made our way to his kitchen, a warm, if slightly outdated, room that showed signs of love and use in every corner. “Your brisket smells so good! What did you rub it with this time?”
Chip stalled at the kitchen doorway. I looked back at him. “Something wrong?” I asked and got a short shake of his head. His emerald eyes were taking in the kitchen as if plotting it out on a mental grid.
“I’m not sure what the rules are for Sable,” he announced as his attention settled on an old clock on the wall, a funny googly-eyed black Kit-Cat with a tail that moved in tandem with the eyes.
“Oh, she is more than welcome in any room,” Eli hurried to say as he placed the crate on a well-used counter. “We always had dogs, smaller ones, usually little terriers, who liked to nip at the mailman on occasion. When my wife died, I found it hard to bring another dog into the house because they were her babies. God never blessed us with children, so we doted on the dogs.”
“Thank you. She’s very well-behaved. She’ll stay with me.” Chip pulled out a chair at the round table neatly set for four. Once he was seated, Sable lay down on his feet.
“Such a good girl,” Mom said as I lifted the crockpot out of the crate, unwrapped it, and set it back on the counter beside a knife block. “The boys always had lizards and fish for pets growing up. Oh, and Devon once had a snake. My mother refused to visit with a snake in the house.”
“Dad always joked he was going to open a serpentarium to keep Granny Pauline from coming over all the time.” I helped Eli tote a tray of cheese, meats, olives, and pickles to the table while he gave the brisket one final basting and turned off the stove to let it sit for an hour or so.
