“Because you can’t be his new wife?” Hannah asked, sounding confused.
Oy. The pregnancy must have affected her usually savvy judgment.
“Obviously not,” Rebecca huffed. “I could never be what he needs, no matter what he says.”
But instead of sympathetic nods, both women merely cocked their heads.
“What does he say?” Isabelle asked.
Rebecca ground her teeth at the memory. “He claims that instead of returning to hobnobbing and leading, he would be satisfied merely tending to his children’s education and supporting my practice, of all things, but we all know he’d be unhappy within a month or two.”
There was another silence.
“Interesting,” Hannah mused. “Just like Sol was unsatisfiedmarrying me instead of becoming a named partner in Lira & Berab Sureties.”
“That was different, and you know it,” Rebecca protested. “Sol lost an opportunity, not something to which he was already entitled.”
“Entitled, eh?” Hannah raised both brows. “I didn’t know you’d changed your opinion on Sephardi royal birthright.”
“I haven’t,” Rebecca corrected. “I’ve just explained how each man would see it. That’s all.”
“Clearly,” Hannah said, her tone sardonic. “Don’t you agree?” she asked, turning to Isabelle.
“Yes, you most certainly explained… something,” Isabelle said after a beat, then paused again. “I suppose the life he described was one you both already lived in a way, these past few weeks.”
“Yes,” Rebecca said. “But we always knew it was temporary. That it would come to an end. It’s very different when it’s expected to last forever.”
“True,” Hannah returned. “I presume you explained that to him?”
“Naturally.” Rebecca scoffed. “But he told me he knew his own mind. That he was old enough to know what the forever he wanted looked like, even if it was nothing like the life he’d led and enjoyed. That he ‘transformed,’ or some such nonsense.” She shook her head. He definitely hadn’t been thinking clearly. “But he’s wrong. Or confused. I’m plain and I’m cold and I’m off-putting, with no ability to bend or yield. I will not and cannot change. Cannot ‘transform.’ ”
There was a moment of silence.
“I’m confused.” It was Hannah who spoke the words. “Are you saying you behaved differently when you were at his home than you usually do?”
Rebecca paused, turning the question over in her head. “With the exception of the liaison, not particularly.”
“And he wants to marry you?” the other woman pressed. “Without asking you to change who you are and what you do?”
Which was… true, though not the issue. Rebecca chewed her lip, searching for a way to explain, to make them understand so they would let her be.
“Neither of you are seeing matters clearly,” she told them. “He’ll have to give up too much. He doesn’t realize it, but people will talk and not kindly, and it shall hurt him and his children.”
“Have you discussed this with him as well?” Isabelle asked.
“Yes,” Rebecca said, irritation creeping into her voice. “Lot of good that did either of us. He insisted that it didn’t matter, that ‘we’ were worth it.” She sniffled a little before shaking her head. “The idea that I would be someone worth changing one’s life over—” She swallowed. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over now. We don’t need to discuss it. I’m tired of discussing it. Let’s discuss how you enjoyed guests or how your stomach is faring,” she tried, searching for engagement upon any topic but the one in front them. This was not who she was, not her role. She didn’t need—
“Do you think I’m delusional, Rebecca?” It was Isabelle who asked the question, her voice suddenly sharp and once again oddly reminiscent of her grandmother’s. The old woman could just retire now.
“Pardon?” she asked, turning to her friend. She loved her, but she really could not take much more pretenses and kindness.
“I’m extraordinary, and thus, I wouldn’t waste my time with anyone who wasn’t extraordinary as well,” Isabelle declared.
“No, you imprinted on me because I minded you as an infant,” Rebecca corrected. “I adore you, but I recognize that you don’t always see me clearly because of our long relationship and our differences in statuses and—”
Isabelle set down her teacup. “You don’t truly think such a thingmatters to me, do you?” she asked slowly, unmistakable hurt in her dark eyes.
“No, I—” Rebecca paused, searching for the right words. “It doesn’t matter whether it does or not. It exists. The rest of the world sees it. And speaks of it.” Quite a bit.
