Fuck.He was skilled with names. Mostly.
Roger nodded in the affirmative. “Yes. Leone Teres. That’s who I’m marrying.” Hopefully.
“Isn’t she Tamar’s age?” Sol asked.
Roger winced. Not the reaction he’d hoped for. Besides, that couldn’t be correct, could it? Sol’s sister-in-law was one and twenty, and thus, if his niece Sofia was two and twenty, andLeonewas a year younger or so—blast.
“Whether or not that’s true, it’s immaterial,” he declared. “Leone’s father has assured me she’s mature beyond her years.” More or less. He grimaced, recalling David’s comment. “Besides, she’s quite well-suited for this household and the position.”
Now it was Sol’s turn to blink. “You’re serious.”
“Very,” Roger said. “She’s perfect. The alliance between our family will thwart any threat to my standing, as well as secure the position of the next generation. Better, she’s exactly the sort of person a Berab should marry.”
His friend stared at him for a long moment, then rose, and before Roger could object, bent down and grabbed him in a fierce embrace. “Mazel tov,” the man said, his voice a touch thick. “May you be granted many years of happiness.”
“Thank you,” Roger said, choking a touch as the overenthusiastic man’s elbow was digging into his neck. “I’ll be a lot happier once she agrees—we must meet first. I need to breathe in order to live long enough to make the meeting, however.”
“That would be preferrable,” Sol said, releasing him and retaking his seat. “I shall be pleased to attend your wedding. I’m invited, am I not?”
“You are, and it’s expected to occur just before Purim,” Roger affirmed.
“That’s soon,” Sol remarked.
“I know. It’s early this year. But I don’t want to wait until Lag BaOmer. We won’t announce until after Miss Adler returns home, so there’s no… confusion,” he explained to his friend’s odd expression. “However, those details are unimportant and not what you came to discuss.”
“Right,” his friend said, clearing his throat. “I haven’t seen you for over a week.” He made a face, which could be best described as a pout.
Roger rolled his eyes, sighing. “My agreement with Teres required me to decline all social invitations until the betrothal is formalized,” he admitted to his friend.
Sol gave a low whistle. “You must really want this marriage,” he teased. “I don’t see you bowing to someone like him.”
“He’s a Commission member and a community elder,” Roger told him, though his lip twitched.
“Who you find less qualified than yourself,” Sol reminded him, not inaccurately.
“Touché,” Roger admitted.
Sol’s smile widened into a grin. “Though, I’d remind you that our king would lick the boots of the American president before the ton would extend to me the invitations you receive,” his friend joked, settling back in his chair. “I’d hoped to perhaps see you at minyan,” Sol nagged. “Your children did not mind it.”
At that Roger raised a brow.
“Much,” his friend conceded. “Perhaps with you, there’d be no exploded houses.”
Roger felt an odd twinge of guilt. While he’d attended daily prayers as a boy—a gift, his father had once explained, as their ancestors had been denied the ability to gather and properly adhere to the commandment lest they be killed—over the years, given his social calendar and demands, he’d attended less frequently.
No, not daily, but on holidays and Saturday mornings. Well, most Saturday mornings.
“I’ll consider it,” Roger told his now-far-too-excited friend, but raising a finger. “Though I’ve been quite busy making sure Miss Adler is tended to and that her home is properly rebuilt, tasks that require quite a lot of attention and care.”
“That’s excellent,” Sol said. “Isabelle and my wife have been concerned about Miss Adler and shall be quite pleased that you’re prioritizing her needs.”
Both Isabelle andHannah? That was difficult to picture. Not that the man’s wife wasn’t perfectly lovely—oh, why was he lying in his own head? The man’s wife was a not-so-former criminal who was not known for her prettier feelings. And she was not a person who truly seemed to have friends. Family whom she’d kill for, yes, and associates who were expendable, certainly, but something as frivolous as “friends,” certainly not.
A bit like him, though with less flair. And he’d not kill, merely neutralize socially. Additionally, he had Sol, so unlike her, he was capable of making friends. He was just selective.
Very selective.
Besides, despite the woman’s defects, his friend believed himself madly in love, enough to give up a great deal of future earnings, and thus he understood to be careful when speaking of the same.
